Coming Together

“Wait.” House says. “What are you doing?”

Damon continues erasing. “No change House. Change house. Move door.”

“So.”

“No move door. Moving door closes bridge. Moving door is bad.” Damon says as he finishes cleaning off the white board.

“This is eloquent?” House asks looking at Mural Man. “No one can stop me from changing my appearance when I want to.”

“Duuude...what Damon is trying to say is that if you change yourself, you'll have to close the bridge during construction. We don't know when anyone is coming back. We need to wait and keep things open man.” Ray says.

“First of all.” House says. “I'm not a man. I'm me. I'm the house. If I don't do this now I'll never get a makeover. Do you have any idea how full this place is getting? I feel bloated. All the time. I need to update my looks regularly. I'm independent. When you're independent and a big deal you have to keep upgrading. I need this makeover. Little Miss Priss is too inflexible to agree to my changes. I'll never get anything if I have to wait for her.” A high pitched cry resonates through the bonus room.

The room grows silent.

“Was that a whine?” Mural Man asks.

“No...” House says. “...maybe.”

Mural Man says, “I love you. I see how important this is to you so how about no makeover for now? You can plan all that you want," Mural Man says, looking at Damon then returning his gaze to House, "but don't do anything. I think that Ray, TP, and Damon will agree with me when I say that we will do everything that we can to help you get an expansion after everyone returns from Faerie safely.”

House looks around the room. Everyone nods their agreement. 

 House nods.  

“We need to find out who is hunting me.” Monitor Man says.

The bubbles gain altitude, turning and speeding back the way that they came. They circle around a bubble just as it is lifting off of the ground. It continues rising then stops. All three bubbles hover together. Monitor Man looks at the faces of his pursuers. He finds himself face to face with Smudge Mal and Spots Wash. Both kittens are completely decked out in hunting gear. Monitor Man studies the two kittens.

“Hey. Are you two trying to kill me?”

There is no answer.  Spots Wash shifts a little hiding his super soaker water gun.

“Hey!” Monitor Man's yells can be heard through both bubble's perimeters. He sees Writer Lady's bubble floating on the far side of the kittens. “They're trying to kill me. Your kittens are trying to kill me!” His voice rings through the interior of her bubble as he looks at Writer Lady.

“Spots! Smudge!” Writer Lady says, scolding her two young charges. The kittens look at each other. Their eyes grow wide. Spots swallows and lowers his head as both face Food Provider a.k.a. Writer Lady a.k.a. Mom.

Smudge Mal looks at Writer Lady and holds her stare.

“What do you two have to say for yourselves?” She asks, looking from a stricken Spots Wash to an undaunted Smudge Mal. “Well?”

“Smudge Mal. Browncoat. Secret Service Agent Class 1.”

“And?”

“I am a Browncoat on a mission. I do not have to explain myself.” Smudge Mal responds.

“What mission?”

“Smudge Mal. Browncoat. Secret Service Agent Class 1.” He repeats.

Writer Lady looks at Monitor Man who is standing with his arms crossed in front of him looking at her expectantly. She looks at the kittens. “If you two don't tell me what's going on...there will be repercussions.”

“Repercussions?” Spots Wash whispers. He looks at his older brother. “Did you hear that? Repercussions. That means bad things. I don't like bad things.”

“We are Browncoats. We have grit. Browncoats aren't scared of bad things.” Smudge Mal says.

“What if she doesn't love us any more?”

“Look at the way she's looking at you.” Smudge Mal whispers. “The disappointed eyes, the sad expression. Not possible.”

“What if she takes our food away?” Spots Wash asks.

“Once again look at her face. Not possible.”

“What if she takes away our toys?”

“We have to be tough about this.” Smudge Mal says. “If we tell her what's going on now then she'll have us spilling our guts all the time.”

“What if she takes away our toy mice?” Spots Wash asks. “What if you have to spend your days without Mousy?”

Smudge Mal looks at the scenery between his combat boots, the lush meadow clearly visible through the bubble's protective layer. “It's a hard thing. Sometimes tough guys have to do hard things.”

“You love Mousy. You take him everywhere...to bed, to the water bowl, to the litter box. You bite us if we try to take him from you.”

“I love Mousy. I love the mission more. A Browncoat does not relent.” Smudge Mal says, tightening his jaw and quickly looking away.

“That's your final word?” Writer Lady asks.

“That's my final word.” Smudge Mal answers, looking at Writer Lady.

“Very well.” She says. “When we get home...”

Smudge Mal's eyes begin to tear.

“Wait...” Spots Wash says. “...don't take Mousy away. Smudge Mal isn't trying to be bad. Food Provider, we came to Faerie to prove ourselves. We are on this mission to prove ourselves worthy of protecting our future President---Tinkletoes.”

A strange noise grows louder. All beings kitten and human alike watch as a large object races towards them braking moments before impact. The bubble arrives stopping suddenly and thrusting its only passenger against its inner wall. The person's face temporarily rearranged into something alien.

“What the...?” Tinkletoes asks.