InsaneJournal

Because holidays and fireworks scaring me out of my chair are inspiring.
A lit match in the hands of the Captain was a well known one way ticket to disaster. It followed, then, that when Jonathan Crane discovered this fact, he made certain that the woman wasn't allowed near any devices that could conceivably result in a fire. Lighters, matches and dry sticks--if found in her posession--were immediately confiscated just in case. Aside from his own experiences with the mistress of flamey death, both Techie and Al had many a tale to tell about her innate ability to start and sustain fires with as much skill as a gourmet chef had with a spatula.

And let's not revisit the time she tried to create something en flambe.

That was the one time that the Captain declared, should she ever want to try that again, her full permission was given to her comrades to tie her up to keep her from the attempt.

Techie heartily agreed and had the rope on standby.

Crane could hardly blame her...after all, it had taken her eyebrows close to a month to grow back in after the flaming baked Alaska debacle.

The same way that the Captain wasn't allowed near anything flammable, Al wasn't allowed in the kitchen. Many a microwave had exploded under her expert attentions and several blenders, toasters and millianeous other household items had met their doom at her hands. The Captain may have had an innate ability, but Al had a God given gift for making things--kitchen related things--explode.

Techie on the other hand, didn't seem to have any peculiar 'gifts' that could lead to disaster...

No, she was a thinker. She fired off random thoughts at random intervals whenever they struck her.

Oridinarily, this would make her a babbling idiot--an annoyance, but nothing of any consequence; but the fact of the matter is, if you put a babbling, thinking idiot in the same room with two doing idiots, the results were nothing short of spectacular.

Techie was the master planner, the others were the ones who latched onto an idea and made it happen.

He should have known better than to let the Captain and Al stay in the room when Techie suddenly stopped chewing her salami, pastrami and corned beef sandwich at the table to stare off into space. Her brows creased and her eyebrows made a valiant struggle to meet in the middle of her forehead, eyes narrowing and lips turning downwards ever so slightly.

This was the 'idea' face. This was the face that launched a thousand take-over-the-world-with-the-combined-power-of-squirrel-minions plans (that one had almost worked, too).

Techie swallowed her bite of sandwich loudly. "What day is it?"

The other two glanced at each other and Crane felt the cloud of impending doom come to rest over his head. He knew what day it was--had seen on the calendar that morning--but he'd taken no more notice of it than usual. So long as there wasn't any trace of red marker on the day in question, he didn't pay it any heed. It was the same as any other day, in his opinion...

But they would care what day it was...oh yes, they would care.

What day was it?

The fourth.

Of July.

Oh God, how did he let this sneak up on him?