Alienus

Repairs are Hazardous

Before I started working on the flight systems, I had to remove the screws that secured the metal plating under the tablet. Once that was finished, I needed to remove the plating itself. The main problem was getting the sheet off while I stayed in one piece (the edges were razor sharp and I really wanted to avoid cutting myself). Thankfully, I managed that. I nearly was able to carry the sheeting over to the wall without worrying about blood, but then Jon decided to 'help' me.

He took the back two edges (I was dragging the metal while carefully holding onto the front). I kept on pulling, unaware of my 'assistant' behind me. I heard 'ouch' and *crap* said repeatedly, and a few other creative words that I hadn't heard since high school. I knew that more often than not, blood follows an 'ouch', but I couldn't resist the temptation to look.

Jon hastily shoved his hand behind his back, "Keep going, I'll take care of the cut." I took the advice and continued pulling the metal off the side of the panel. Once finished, I went over to check on Jon. A Band-Aid had been applied, which was good.

"That didn't feel too pleasant," Jon elbowed me lightly.

"I didn't do it on purpose; I am but a peaceful blood-ophobe," I said only half-jokingly. Jon was about to respond, but then I heard the bedroom door open.

The expression of panic on Jon's face mirrored mine. "Emiley," we said in unison.

"Jinx, you owe me another soda," Jon said, in an attempt to lighten things. It didn't work

"And she's out the door," I just watched as Emiley flew out the door. My frosty look not freezing her, Emiley skipped up to Jon and took off his Band-Aid. I didn't have enough time to close my eyes willingly, so my reaction did it for me.

This time I was a unicorn, kind of. Instead of a spirally horn, I had a single antler protruding from the middle of my forehead. 'I'm a *freakin* unimoose!' I thought. On the same agenda as most of my blackouts, I had to be rainbow colored and sparkly, with bright green hooves, and a neon pink mane and tail.

I slowly opened my eyes and nearly blacked out again. Emiley was fighting with Jon for possession of the Band-Aid box. I saw the hand again. Black spots clouded my vision, my stomach twisted.

"Whoa," I muttered, grabbing the wall to stabilize myself. Jon took the box and stuck a shiny strip on his hand. He looked over and saw me in my half-conscious state. Jon grabbed my shoulders and led me over to the wraparound bench by the table. "Thanks," I said, dazed. In a minute or two, I regained full consciousness.

Emiley was stretching out Jon's old bandage (the bloody side facing her) and then-after tying it in a knot-she threw it away.

"That is nasty," Jon said, closing his eyes, "You. Wash. Your. Hands. Now." Emiley washed them, but only after wiping them on Jon. A involuntary shudder ran throughout his body. I couldn't blame him, even if it was his own blood.

For dinner we got our very own rationed lasagna. No cookie dough, but to celebrate contact with Mission Control, we each got a chocolate chip ice cream bar. Afterwards we brushed our teeth, combed our hair, flossed, and took a shower.

A great thing, showers. After staining my once purple suit gray with streaks of grease, and fiddling around with electricity so much that my fingertips still tingled, a shower was like a preview to heaven.

Since he's so nice, Jon ran into the showerhouse yelling, "I call dibs on the shower!" I heard water running before I could protest. With my stupid broken leg in its chunk of plastic I was rather incapable of catching up.

I would bet fifty dollars Jon took forever on purpose, just to taunt me. I seriously needed him to hurry up. My blonde hair was streaked with gray and oil, the originally lavender suit was a matching color, and there was so much grease on my hands, it looked like I had dipped the tips of my fingers in liquid pencil lead. I didn't exactly smell like sunshine and roses after working with grease and pulling on heavy things, so the shower would also help me rid myself of my stink. To stay occupied, I grabbed a towel, a wash cloth, and a trash bag to wrap my cast in (the 'cast' isn't waterproof). After what seemed like forever, Jon came out using his towel as a toga.