~a sillyfic by Mel and Christy~



"Will you look at this crap?" Duo hunched over the keyboard, scowling at his laptop's screen and hitting keys with unnecessary force as he scrolled through various messages. "'Lowlife terrorist scum', my ass!"

"It's not just your ass they think is scum, Duo," Trowa said dryly, leaning over the back of Duo's chair and reading over his shoulder. "It's all of you. All of us, actually."

"I may be a street rat, but I'm not lowlife scum," Duo snorted, "and one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter. So nyah!" He stuck his tongue out at the screen.

"That's such a reasoned, rational response, Duo," Quatre sighed, looking up from his book. "What are you reading?"

"The 'Gundam Menace' bulletin board."

"...In that case, my compliments on being so restrained. Why are you torturing yourself by reading that ranting idiocy?" Quatre asked, genuinely puzzled. "Nobody posts there unless they truly loathe us. It's not like you might be wondering what you'll find!"

"Occasionally somebody posts a half-sensible idea, and if they aren't shouted down immediately, I can sometimes encourage them to think about it with a subtle post or two. Alternatively, I can shoot down some of the more moronic exercises in circular logic." Duo pointed a finger like a gun and mimed shooting at the screen. "I can blow that one full of holes, that's for sure."

Heero and Wufei came to peer at the screen, and Duo obligingly scrolled through some of the more annoying messages for them. They weren't impressed. "Let me help you answer that one," Heero muttered, directing a death-glare at the laptop. "The wings are not an expression of my repressed feelings of sexual inadequacy and need to make myself seem 'above everyone'!"

"Not a problem," the braided pilot grinned, starting to shut his laptop down. "Come join me after dinner, for some cathartic moron-bashing."

"You're not going to answer them now?"

"Nah. I'll sit on it for a while and cool down first. If I answer now, I might end up sending something I'll regret... and if I wait, I have plenty of time to formulate a really scathing rebuttal."

"'In the midst of great joy, do not promise anyone anything'," Wufei muttered, sounding like he was quoting something. "'Likewise, in the midst of great anger, do not answer anyone's letter'."

"That's quite profound, Wufei," Quatre said admiringly. "Did you come up with that one yourself?"

Wufei stayed perfectly expressionless, but his next words came out in a startling, high-pitched, badly accented voice. "Ah, so. Ancient Chinese proverb, very meaningful. Learn from its wisdom, grasshopper."

Duo's laptop slid off his knees and thudded on the carpet as the other four pilots stared at Wufei, flabbergasted. Slowly, he raised one eyebrow and quirked his mouth into a smile, turning to walk away. "Take no wooden nickels," he continued in the same voice. "Wax on, wax off. Confucious say money talks, but mine only ever say 'goodbye'..." The door closed behind him, cutting off the string of kung-fu platitudes.

Back in the lounge room, Heero and Trowa looked accusingly at Duo. "You've been showing him old movies again, haven't you?" Trowa said sternly.

"No! No way, not me!" Duo protested, shaking his head. "All right, the Monty Python episode was my fault, I admit it, but the cheesy martial arts movies all belong to Quatre!"

"Is that true, Winner?" Heero said ominously.



The End.

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