InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ One Summer ❯ Plans, Pudding, and Pointless Alliteration ( Chapter 13 )

A/N: Meh. This one's shorter than I'd hoped it be, but I have a good feeling about the next chapter. This story just keeps going, doesn't it? Like the Energizer bunny. Whatever happened to him? Someone should file a missing bunny report. Clearly something is amiss.

 

Chapter Thirteen: Plans, Pudding and Pointless Alliteration

 

Kagura's plan was simple. All the best plans are. She knew because it said so in her new book: Pun Moo's Fart of War. Despite its decidedly lewd title, (really, fart jokes? So fourteenth century) it had some decent advice. Like putting fire-ants in your enemy's underwear. Or, putting fire ants into your enemy's breakfast cereal. Or, putting fire ants in your enemy's favorite fuzzy slippers, with the little pink baboons on the front. (That one was oddly specific.)

 

Of course, it also gave some really poor advice, like disposing of unwanted fire-ants in your enemy's shampoo. The extra-silky, vitamin-rich concoction only served to enrage them. Kagura still had marks.

 

But that was okay; by now, Kagura had moved past those dark times. She learned how to weed out the good advice from the bad. For example:

 

Pun Moo says: In order to defeat your enemy, you must know your enemy.

 

Good advice.

 

I mean really, know your enemy.

 

Still okay.

 

Like, get into your enemy's head. Then, on a Tuesday afternoon, break into his house after he leaves, and wear the `special' outfits he keeps in his sock drawer…

 

See, now we're veering off course.

 

And prance around singing “I'm a little teapot”, like you're a little girly-teapot man, who like, I dunno, enjoys being around teapots and having tea parties with his little sister's dollies that my mommy wouldn't let me play with `cause she said it was weird and wearing cute paper doilies on his head like he's some kind of girly-teapot tea-cozy making, sweater knitting, weasel tapping, pink pony loving man. Some girly, teapot pinky little sweet fluffy love, badger licking, dolly loving man who likes wearing his enemy's clothes. Yeah. Yeah! And then, like, when you enemy comes home, you gotta, like, hit him with a kitchen utensil and shove a spoon up your nose and be all “Who's the big man now? Huh? HUH? I don't wanna be a fry cook, Daddy! Why wouldn't you let me be a contortionist or a circus midget or a chocolate crawler like I'd always dreamed? WHY CAN'T YOU ACCEPT ME?”

 

Bad advice.

 

“Spank me for my wrongdoings!”

 

Really bad advice.

 

It was easy, once you got the knack of it.

 

And Kagura had not only gotten the knack, she'd hogtied it, stashed it in the basement and repeatedly slapped it around, all the while asking who its daddy was. (A man named Johann Smith, apparently. He was a half-German locksmith who was more at home picking his nose than picking locks, but that's beside the point.)

 

After poor Knack Smith was reduced to a gibbering pile of lug-nuts and discarded treasures from the depths of Johann's nostrils, Kagura was ready to put her plan into action.

 

She covered the hole where the tainted pudding had fallen with moss. She hadn't been able to find fresh moss, so it was browning slightly at the edges. Also, the hole resided in a grassy, clover-filled area, not a patch of moss in sight, so the moss was more than a little out of place.

 

Still, Kagura had a good feeling about this. Whistling, she attached string to a small bowl of pudding on a floating lily, grabbed the other end and hid behind the bushes to wait. The pudding bobbed in the water enticingly.

 

It wouldn't be long now.

 

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The Boulderlets were forming a plan. Naturally, it was a poorly formulated, grammar-intolerant plan, but it was a plan nonetheless.

 

They would destroy this `Naraku', at all costs. Even if they had to rip apart both his shoes.

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“Is that really—“ Kagome stuck her finger in it. “Ooh! It is!”

 

“Kagome,” said Sango, looking at her as though she'd lost her mind, ”are you sure that it's wise to be eating it?”

 

“It's perfectly safe,” said the old man.

 

Miroku remembered the stairs and how they'd been `perfectly safe' as well.

 

“Kagome,” he said, “I really think you shouldn't eat it.”

 

“Well, I do like chocolate better, but pudding's pudding.”

 

“What's a `pudding'?” said Inu-Yasha, examining some odd bottles in the corner of the room.

 

“It's a dessert. This tastes like the instant pudding, though. Definitely not from this era.” Kagome was one of those people who could tell. “How could there be a huge vat of pudding here?” Alright, there had to be some connection to the strange influx of anachronisms.

 

The old man shrugged. “It came with the place.”

 

“Why have you been bottling it?”

 

“There's this guy that I sell it to, really creepy. I mean, who wears a baboon suit? Said his name was … uh Naruto, or Nariku or...”

 

“Naraku?” They said, simultaneously.

 

“Yeah! That's the name! Completely off his nut, but he loves his pudding, I can tell you that.”

 

Kagome was deeply disturbed by the mental image this information produced. Great, now every time she thought about vanilla pudding, she'd also have to think of Naraku. Eating pudding. Naraku, the man who had managed to give creepy a new name (he called it `Fujibadawa', in case anyone was wondering) eating pudding. Likely, getting pudding all over his face and baboon costume. (What was up with that anyway?) Perhaps, a small rivulet of pudding running down his chin…

 

Ew. Kagome's insides revolted, heaving against the oppressive skin regime that had worked so hard to keep them in their place. She stared at the pudding on her finger. Yep. All she could think of was Naraku dribbling pudding. Discreetly wiping it off on the side of the vat, Kagome came to a decision: She was officially off pudding for a while.

 

“Are you alright Kagome?” asked Sango. “I knew you shouldn't have eaten that pudding.”

 

“No, I'm fine. Just …thinking.” She felt a tad ill.

 

“Why would Naraku want pudding?” Miroku rubbed his chin.

 

“Perhaps he's developed a taste for it?” said Agnes.

 

Kagome moaned, clutching her stomach.

 

“No, no,” said the old man, “I'll bet he uses it as a zombie repellant! You know, rubbing it all over his body, gently, but oh so thoroughly…”

 

“Oh!” groaned Kagome. Okay, she had to get her mind off of this. If you don't want your bathtub to be filled with crud…

 

“Massaging it into his skin, kneading in small counterclockwise circles down his—“

 

“OH!” Even the hated jingle couldn't drown him out!

 

“Isn't that what you do with it?” sniffed Agnes.

 

Kagome went green. No more pudding. Ever.

 

“Kagome, what's wrong?” asked Inu-Yasha. “Kagome?”