2012 is indeed the end of the world? Moving right along...
Fuickleberry Saves the World: The First Adventure
The Dramatic and Badass Rescue of Mike Chang and Matt Rutherford
"Attention please! ATTENTION!"
Puck, Finn and Quinn turned towards the front door with nearly identical looks of perplexion on their faces. Rachel stood in front of the door, dressed and equipped as if she were about to go on a camping trip. Quinn actually smacked her forehead as she noticed the pink fanny pack around the girl's waist. Puck smiled at denim short overalls and was glad he had though of putting a pair in the cart at Wal-mart when they had gone shopping. They made him think of going to that pick your own strawberries place with his sister and just how kissable her lips had been after eating far more straight off the plant than they had put in the basket.
"Stop looking at me that way, Noah," Rachel warned. "We have quite a lot of pre-planning to do and very little time to do it. This isn't the time for inappropriate shenanigans."
"Objection," Puck shook his head. "Shenanigans are for all the time."
"I would hate to agree with Rachel, but she's right," Quinn shook her head. "This summer has been literally insane. Maybe if we let Little Miss Type A make a plan or two and ACTUALLY follow it, we could find Mike and Matt and GO HOME."
"I miss home. And my mom's breakfast," Finn sighed.
"She pours out your fruity pebbles every morning, dipshit," Puck rolled his eyes.
"NOAH! Rule 1, no more picking at each other!" Rachel ordered, holding up a pink binder and pointing to a list of rules with undeniable authority. "We should focus our amazing energies and wits solely on our objective of rescuing our friends. Not tearing each other down. No more mean names. No more rudeness. No more..."
"We get it, lets move on," Quinn sighed. She pursed her lips in an obnoxious half-smile, half-sneer, hoping that Rachel noticed she didn't use an insulting modifier.
"Rule two: no deviating from the plan," Rachel insisted. "No more spur of the moment ideas unless they are properly drawn up in the accepted format with at least two back-ups and an easy out clause. We will then vote in order to approve any plans and move forward once a majority is attained."
"I'm so confused. Are we going to get breakfast? Or do I have to fill out paperwork?" Finn wondered.
"You will eat when I am satisfied that you understand we are not to be sidetracked by ridiculous adventures any longer," Rachel said seriously.
"We're going to starve," Puck mumbled, his eyes wide with horror. "I'm not trying to tear him down, but the Finnster isn't going to get this without at least three or four thousand calories in his gas tank."
"It's true," Finn nodded.
Rachel rolled her eyes and counted to ten, hoping to whatever higher power that would listen that she could hold her tongue just this once and not rip in to Finn with razor-barbed insults and criticism. She managed to control herself just barely, and took a deep breath before announcing,
"We may go and find sustenance now, and while we are eating, we are going over the plan of action and memorizing or route on the five different maps I've procured," Rachel insisted firmly.
"Thank you!" Finn grinned, rushing from the room. He hopped past Rachel and pushed at the door and furrowed his brow as he jiggled the handle. He turned slowly back and sent a confused look to his friends. "Doors are usually easy to open, right? I'm not having a low sugar blood moment where I forget easy stuff, right?"
"What in the hell?" Puck furrowed his brow, sidestepping Rachel and pushing Finn away from the door. He found no success and looked back at Rachel, "When did you get back?"
"I returned from my planning supply run about three hours ago," Rachel answered.
"You've been up since 4 am? Are you even human?" Quinn wondered.
"No insults," Rachel hissed at her.
"We're locked in," Puck shook his head in frustration as he shoved his shoulder at the door with all of his strength. It didn't budge and he began pounding on it. "HEY! Let us out!"
"Well boy, no can do. See you owe me an awful lot of money, seeing as you trashed my bar last night," a disembodied voice announced from the other side of the door. "And I'm getting paid back right now by a friend of yours that wants to keep you here for now. So you just sit tight and shut up."
"Oh my god," Rachel gasped. She looked between Puck and Quinn, terror growing in her eyes. "What if its Brandy Walton?"
"Oh hell no, I'm not going back to Jesus Camp," Puck grumbled. He gestured to Rachel's binder and demanded, "What've you got in there for escaping?"
"Let me look, just a moment," Rachel began paging through the serious novel length planning book.
"It couldn't be that crazy trucker, she doesn't know where we are...and she doesn't have the money to be paying for the serious wreckage we made at the bar last night," Quinn disputed, although there was the slight note of doubt in her voice.
"It could be the same guys who took Chang and Rutherford," Puck threw out. "I mean, they have to realize that we're on their tail..."
"Guys, I think you're missing a very important point here," Finn said quietly, his seriousness and gravity of tone making even Rachel look up from her contingency plans. He gave them a pitiable look and whispered, "I'm seriously starving."
"You ask her."
"No. YOU ask."
"I don't wanna have my balls kicked in, bro. You're all zen and shiny-haired. Fool her with your Asian trickery and get shit done for once."
"You're so racist!"
"Black people can't be racist."
Matt and Mike turned around in the pool to see Santana slowly pushing up her sunglasses as she lounged on a chair poolside. She took a bored breath before saying, "One of you grow a pair and ask me what you want to ask. I promise, I won't kill you until you've both served your purpose."
"Our purpose involves being sperm donors one the girls turn 35, right?" Matt murmured to Mike.
"Very true, but I'm sure we could be replaced," Mike nodded.
"SPILL IT," Santana ordered.
"Okay, so you and Brittany won like, eight thousand dollars last night, right?" Matt asked.
"Eight-thousand-five-hundred and sixty-two dollars," Brittany put in, laying out on her stomach on the pool chair next to Santana. "I won the last 15 dollars on the slot machine that had had the glittery kitties on it. It made me think that I could definitely figure out a system with the rest of the machines so that we would always win."
"That's what we'll do tonight, baby," Santana promised sweetly. She turned a harsh glare the boy's way and said in a tone completely opposite of that which she had just used on Brittany, "if you numbskulls even try to think about asking me what I did with the money Britt made me off the money I gave her, I swear to fuck all, you will drown and I will let someone much smarter and less asinine father me and Brit's racially ambiguous babies someday."
"We'll be good," Mike promised solemnly. He turned and dove into the pool, going straight to the bottom and punching Matt as hard as he could in the calf.
Matt screeched in pain before hobbling off in pursuit of his attacker. The lingered at other side of the pool, hopefully out of Santan's crazy vampire bat hearing range. Mike shook his head and whispered,
"This has something to do with Puck and Rachel."
"No shit, Chinese Sherlock," Matt rolled his eyes. "But what is she doing to them that could take all of that money?"
"I don't want to know," Mike shook his head. "This sounds like the pansy's way out of it, but for now, let's pray that they don't wind up dead."
"That is the pansy's way out," Matt accused.
"Well for now, that's what we have. Later tonight, you distract Santana by setting her into a bone-crushing fury and I'll corner Britts and see what I can get out of her about Satan's plan," Mike offered.
"That sounds good," Matt nodded. "Wait-bone-crushing fury? GET BACK HERE!"
"I'm going to die. And when I do, I want you to make sure that my mom knows that I love her. And make sure Artie takes care of my baseball card collection. Because he'll actually cherish it. Puck would just sell it and use the money to buy something nice for Rachel. And I don't want that. Not anymore."
Quinn rolled her eyes as Finn languished on the bed, looking slightly tired and a lot cranky. Certainly not dying. But none of them could convince him otherwise. Hours had passed with them stuck in that damned hotel room and Rachel had yet to find an out, and Puck had yet to start contributing. Something about respecting Rachel and her ideas. Quinn thought he was being a giant wimp when it came to Rachel because he wanted to desperately get into her pants. She heard Finn's stomach let out a whining growl and let out a deep exhale. Something needed to be done.
"Man-hands, drop the crazy a couple of notches and let Puck try to figure a way out," Quinn ordered.
"Excuse me? You just broke rule number one," Rachel reminded her sharply, turning a well practiced glare Quinn's way. "If you're not going to go along with my plans, I'm not going to listen to your input."
"That's fine with me, because your plans SUCK. You can't even figure out how to get us out of here," Quinn huffed. "As a matter of fact, if you hadn't taken hours color coding everything, you could have, oh I don't know, woken us up and we would have been out of here by now!"
"Girls," Puck said softly.
"Don't GIRLS them, Quinn is right!" Finn accused.
"Shut it Manboobzilla!" Puck growled, his own hunger and crankiness at being cooped up in the hotel room seriously getting to him.
"You shut it Peckasaurus!" Finn shot back.
"Keep your mammaries about you!" Puck yelled.
"BOOB FACE!" Finn yelled.
"TIT MONGER!" Puck shouted.
"BOOBIES BOOBIES BOOBIES!"
"OH MY GOD SHUUUUUUUUUT UUUUUUUUPPPPPPPP!"
"What in the hell was that?" Quinn demanded, looking to the opposite side of the room where glass could be heard tinkling and smashing to the ground. "Rachel, you just broke glass with the sound of your voice, you...impressive freak-azoid."
"Can it, Fabray," Puck ordered as he walked to the other side of the room and saw that Rachel's righteous screaming had indeed shattered the glass on the hideously tacky mirror above the small table/desk in the room. Seriously, if Kurt had been along for the ride, the mirror would have been shattered from dislike five minutes after arriving. No wonder the damn thing shattered though, it was hollow behind it, a man made cubby hole in the wall. He reached in and pulled out with wide eyes a shiny, silver revolver.
"He's going to kill me," Finn whispered to Quinn.
"Paper in here too," Puck furrowed his brow. He studied them intensely for a few moments before looking up and wondering, "Why do you think someone would let a gun and the blue prints to the Bellagio Casino in here?"
"Put. It. BACK," Rachel ordered. "Noah, I'm not playing. This isn't a part of the plan."
"Berry-pants, chillax," Puck murmured, studying the gun carefully, carefully taking the bullets out of the chamber. "It can't hurt the plan to have a little back up. UNLOADED back up. I'm not shooting anyone."
"Yet," Quinn quipped.
The doorknob rattled and a small commotion was heard outside as the four teenagers all simultaneously leapt towards the middle of the room, standing shoulder to shoulder. Puck put the unloaded gun in the waistband at his jeans and Rachel fussed with his t-shirt so that it wasn't noticeable. The noise of their hotel room door being unpadlocked and de-chained rattled around the room as the quartet took deep, even breaths. Slowly and without realizing it, Rachel and Quinn clutched their hands together and reached for each boy at their side.
"We're going to get out of this, guys. No matter what's on the other side," Puck whispered. He gave Rachel a smile and squeezed her hand. "I promise."
Is Mike going to get Matt killed? Or at the very least de-balled? Who is on the other side of the door? Is it a Pizza delivery for Finn's low blood sugar? How did Brittany win so much money? How often do you think she can do it before they get kicked out of the casino for card counting? Will this story end ever? Probably not.
Love and Glee and Cookies and then more love people. Thanks for reading!