One day Mrs. Jones went to have a talk with the minister at the

local church. "Reverend," she said, "I have a problem, my

husband keeps falling asleep during your sermons. It's very

embarrassing. What should I do?"

"I have an idea," said the minister. "Take this hatpin with you.

I will be able to tell when Mr. Jones is sleeping, and I will

motion to you at specific times. When I motion, you give him a

good poke in the leg."

In church the following Sunday, Mr. Jones dozed off. Noticing

this, the preacher put his plan to work. "And who made the

ultimate sacrifice for you?" he said, nodding to Mrs. Jones.

"Jesus!", Jones cried as his wife jabbed him the leg with the

hatpin.

"Yes, you are right, Mr. Jones," said the minister. Soon, Mr.

Jones nodded off again. Again, the minister noticed. "Who is

your redeemer?" he asked the congregation, motioning towards

Mrs. Jones.

"God!" Mr. Jones cried out as he was stuck again with the hatpin.

"Right again," said the minister, smiling. Before long, Mr.

Jones again winked off. However, this time the minister did not

notice. As he picked up the tempo of his sermon, he made a few

motions that Mrs. Jones mistook as signals to bayonet her

husband with the hatpin again.

The minister asked, "And what did Eve say to Adam after she bore

him his 99th son?"

Mrs. Jones poked her husband, who yelled, "You stick that

goddamned thing in me one more time and I'll break it in half

and shove it up your ass!"

"Amen," replied the congregation.

Chapter 19

Derek was able to run ahead of Kyle enough to see a conveniently open window on the first floor of an apartment building and be terrified enough to jump through it and land in a convenient out-of-sight-spot-in-the-corner-of-the-room-where-the-couch-was-too-round-to-be-up-against-the-wall in an apartment conveniently inhabited by a very old man that had even more conveniently dozed off in front of his TV that was playing the news in a different language.

Russian, maybe.

And Derek was still terrified enough to just hunker down listening to strange sounding words and the raspy breathing of the old man.

Until, inconveniently, the raspy breathing stopped.

And Derek spent the rest of the night banging his head against the wall.

The next day, he bet with himself that the man was still alive and it was only some fluke that Derek didn't hear him breathing anymore.

He lost the bet.

His punishment: to go back to the twins' home.

He really was an idiot.

Walking into the twins' home was breathtaking when he realized the only other person there was Mark.

Derek glared at Mark.

Derek didn't really like Mark.

Even though technically Mark helped Derek realize that his psycho-pseudo girlfriend was in love with him.

Mark still wasn't anywhere near the middle of the list of people that Derek even moderately liked.

Not that Derek really had a list.

Just an expression.

Really.

Mark grinned at Derek.

Mark clearly had no self-preserving instincts.

"Hello," Derek said stiffly.

Mark's grin widened. "Heya," he said in a very odd voice, kind of like a whisper, that oddly made Derek think of the spaces between the twigs of a tree.

Or a bush.

Just . . . space.

How odd.

"What are you doing here?" Derek asked.

"Nowhere else to go, really. Gonna stay here for a couple of weeks, see if I can help the twins out with some of their latest escapades, not to mention the gun-toting maniacs."

"So it's just a couple of weeks?"

Mark winked. "Unless I can find a job, or a sugar daddy. Either will suffice."

"I'm sure."

"Ooh, you do have a stick stuck up your arse, don't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Out of the risk of using a very old and dried-up joke, you're excused. I really must be getting ready."

"For what?"

"To seduce Blue."

Derek's mind blanked.

He stared.

For a while.

Not long.

In his opinion.

Maybe not in Mark's opinion either.

Since he seemed to be enjoying it.

The bastard.

"You want to what Blue?" Derek asked finally.

Not finally.

Nor eventually.

After a few minutes.

Really.

He hoped.

"Thought that would get to you. Blue's a bit cute, don't you think? Lonesome creature, isn't he?" Mark asked, smirking.

"Blue's not . . . gay," Derek provided after some more not long staring.

"Oh? He isn't? Ooh. More fun."

And with that, Mark breezed past Derek.

Derek wanted alcohol.

A/N Not sure what I'm doing here. I wonder if anybody is even still monitoring my account. I might continue. But I'm also really out of touch with this story. Don't know if I'll even be able to get back into my characters. Don't know if anybody wants me to continue it at this point anyway.

Since it's been so long.