Excerpt: Nothing In Particular (or Just For Lulz)

Suddenly, however, a man jumped towards them.

“Good day! I am Tom Flancypants! I have the fanciest pants in the land! None has pants more fancy than me!” he posed dramatically and smiled broadly at them. Thistle glanced at his pants. They were, in fact, rather fancy. They were purple with golden embroidery on them, they had five pockets on each leg, and various fancy bells and whistles on them. Those pants, Thistle thought wisely, could only be described as very fancy.

“Tom! What are you doing? We're going to be late!” Another young man pushed out of the crowd and glared at Tom Flancypants, who looked around guiltily.

“Sorry, sorry! I'm--” he stopped and stared at Vincent. “THOSE PANTS.” Vincent looked at him.

“What.”

“THEY'RE.. THEY ARE TOO FANCY!” Mr. Flancypants posed dramatically again. Vincent glowered at him. Thistle looked at his pants, which were, in fact, also fancy pants. They were black, with rather a lot of zippered pockets all over them with red highlights and twirly red designs curling up the right leg.

“Those are pretty fancy pants, Vin. I think you out-fancied him!” Lemon popped into the conversation. Tom Flancypants looked despairingly at his friend, who rolled his eyes.

“Tom, we're really going to be late. Stop being such a... pants geek and come on,” the friend gestured irritatedly at a building in the distance. “Or I'll leave without you.”

“YOUR PANTS HAVE LEFT ME IN DESPAIR!” Tom flailed about wildly. Vincent glared at him, visibly unimpressed.

“Right, then, come on, Tom.” Tom's friend grabbed him and dragged him off back into the crowd, still yelling 'DESPAAAAIR'.

“That was.. odd,” Lime shook his head and sighed. “Some people.”

Thistle glanced at Vincent. He was still frowning, and looked vaguely bemused. Lemon patted him on the head.

“You made a man fall into a vortex of despair by out-fancying his pants! That's quite an achievement, Vin! I've never done that before.” Vincent shrugged and yawned.

“Whatever. And don't call me Vin,” he muttered crossly. “It's annoying.”

“What was that? You really shouldn't mutter, Vin, it makes it hard for people to hear you!”

“Hrnng.”

Lime sighed and looked around. “All right, guys, we'll split up and look for--”

“CLUES!” Lemon interrupted him, waving his arms in the air. “Shaggy, you go with Scooby, I'll take Daphne and Velma!”

Lime glared at him. “No. Well, yes. But no. Lemon, you go with Vincent, I'll go with Thistle, and Name-- Where's Name?” He looked around, and sure enough, Name had disappeared again. “Right. Wait, Lemon, are you saying you're Fred? You're totally Scooby.” Lemon stuck out his tongue.

“Fred's got blond hair, and so do I! And Fred's better! I don't wanna be Scooby!”

“Actually, you're more like that annoying puppy, Scrappy or whatever his name is,” Lime smirked at him and stalked off. “Come on, Thistle.”

“I am not the annoying puppy!” Lemon made a face and skipped off, dragging Vincent (who'd fallen asleep again) with him.