Someone mentioned lobsters in chat one day, and this is what came out of it. Thanks to all who helped put this together.
RATING: Ehh, I'd give it a "G".
DISCLAIMER: They're mine! All mine! Columbia can't have them anymore, so there! What?? What do you mean I can't say that -- oh poo.
SUMMARY: Fun with lobsters.

One quiet day at the firehouse, two of the Ghostbusters were in the kitchen, in the process of making lunch. Egon was in the middle of cutting lettuce for a salad, while Winston was whipping up a batch of his famous firehouse chili; complete with cornbread on the side.

After a quick taste, Winston added more chopped chiles to the pot, and glanced disdainfully over at Egon. "You realize you're not supposed to use a knife on the lettuce, right? What would your mother think?"

"Since my mother is not here, I believe that what she would think is irrelevant at the moment," Egon sniffed haughtily, "and, since we are eating as soon as Peter returns from the store, the lettuce will not have ample time to discolor."

At Winston's arched eyebrow, Egon sighed resignedly, put the knife down, and tore one lettuce leaf in half with his bare hands. "Happy now?" he asked, picking up the knife again.

"Ever so much, thank you," Winston retorted, turning back to his chili.

With a grunt and a groan, Peter entered the kitchen, carrying a large, styrofoam ice chest. The cooler was making a sloshing sound as Peter strained to hoist it up, prompting Winston to rush over and lend a helping hand. "Here, let me help you with that, Pete, it looks a little heavy."

Letting Winston take one end of the cooler, they both hauled it up onto the counter by the sink. "Whew, thanks, buddy," Peter said, making a great show of wiping his brow, "I thought I was gonna have a hernia lugging it up the stairs."

"Whatcha got in it? Ice cold beers?"

Venkman afforded Winston a sly wink. "Better than that, my comrade-in-arms, much, much better."

Curious, Winston lifted the lid to take a peek inside. "Boy, I'll say," he agreed heartily.

At Egon's questioning look, Peter decided to drop the other shoe. "Lobsters."

Egon raised an eyebrow, doubting his ears. "Fresh lobster tails?"

Venkman's grin was irrepressible. "Live lobsters, Big Guy."

Both blond eyebrows nearly disappeared into Egon's hairline. "You have got to be kidding, Peter," he said, rushing over to take a look for himself. Raising the styrofoam lid, Egon saw four large lobsters huddled in the bottom of the cooler, barely covered by water. "These must have cost a mint! Where did you get them, Peter?"

"You won't believe it, guys! They didn't cost me one red cent!"

The physicist hastily replaced the lid as if all of Pandora's monsters were going to escape. "Better throw them into the dumpster, Winston," he said with a grimace of distaste, "I don't think we need to be in the hospital with a severe case of food poisoning."

Nodding, Winston reached for the cooler. "And, while we're getting our stomachs pumped, the cops will show up to arrest us for grand theft seafood!"

"Waitaminute, guys!" Peter interrupted, throwing himself across the ice chest to prevent Winston from moving it, "Hear me out first, okay? It really is legit."

Folding his arms, Egon threw the psychologist a disbelieving look. "Pardon the pun, but if the story sounds fishy in any way, we pitch the lobsters out and deny everything."

"Deal," Peter agreed. Straightening up, he brushed styrofoam lint from his clothes. "Do you remember the bust we did just this past weekend? The one where a woman was being annoyed by a lesser demon?"

"The demon who became enamored with his so-called, 'victim'?" asked Egon.

Winston laughed. "The poor, lovestruck thing kept following her around like a lost puppy; a big, ugly puppy, but those sad eyes really got to me." After depositing a warm pan of cornbread on the stovetop, he searched the knife drawer. "It was really cute when it got down on one knee and proposed, wasn't it?"

"A virtual Kodak moment, yes," Egon agreed.

"Anyway," Peter continued, "it seems her Pop owns the meat market where she works, and he was so grateful that we saved his daughter, he gave me these as a reward," he indicated the ice chest with a flourish.

"Peter, you know we don't take gratuities anymore," Egon admonished gently, "not since those disastrous instances with the geranium and that magic lamp Janine was given. Why didn't you refuse them?"

The psychologist shrugged his shoulders. "I tried, but he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer," Peter insisted. "So I figured, 'What the heck?'; let the man clear his conscience by erasing a debt, and we get fed at the same time. Just this once?" he pleaded, trying his best to imitate Ray's puppy dog look.

"Very well," Egon relented, rolling his eyes and going back to his salad, "as long as you don't make a habit of it, Peter."

"We'll sure be eating like kings tonight," Winston commented, "but if you want me to cook them, I get dibs on the big one."

"Winston!" cried Peter, "that one was mine...I had to lug them up the stairs, after all!"

The muscular Ghostbuster simply tossed Venkman his 'tough toenails' look, and Peter groaned, relenting. No big deal, second biggest was still okay...

Egon put on a thoughtful look. "Hmm, it's been quite a long time since I'd last dined on lobster. Let's see...," he paused, thinking, "yes, I believe it was the celebratory dinner my parents gave me on my being accepted into MIT. They were a bit skimpy on the butter sauce, though." He afforded his brown-haired friend a Cheshire grin. "The one with the large claws is mine."

"Egon!" Peter grabbed at the ice chest, as if to protect it from marauding physicists. "Don't be greedy!" Maybe the third largest? Ray wouldn't mind...

"What about you, Zedd?" he asked, once he was sure Egon was once again immersed in salad preparation, "Ever had lobster before?"

"Just once," Winston answered, pausing while cutting the cornbread into sections, "It was just after I got back from 'Nam. Mama was so happy to see me home, she pulled out all the stops for a big, fancy meal at the swankiest restaurant in town. I didn't have the heart to tell her that all I wanted was a taste of her home cookin' again."

A faint chuckle shook his broad shoulders. "She made up for it at Sunday dinner, though; best damn meal I ever had in my life." He stared at the phone wistfully. "I wonder if she's gonna cook this Sunday?"

"If she is, I'm coming too," Peter asserted, sneaking a sidelong glance at Egon. "Sorry, Big Guy, you'll have to stay behind, after you cleaned out her cookie jar the last time you were there."

"And still had room for dinner, which amazed me to no end," Winston added.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Egon replied, indignantly, "you make it seem as if I'm some type of cookie fiend, or something."

With a knowing glance at Winston, Peter strode up to the physicist, unzipped the left breast pocket of Spengler's jumpsuit, and pulled out a slightly crumbled oatmeal raisin cookie; holding it up for Egon's scrutiny.

"That proves nothing," the blond growled, snatching the cookie back and returning it to his pocket, "besides, Winston's mother gave me permission to have some, since they were freshly baked."

Peter rolled his eyes. "Egon, with a doctorate of Physics under your belt, I would think that you would know the difference between 'some' and 'all,' wouldn't you think so, Winston?"

"Oh, indubitably," Zeddemore agreed.

Before Egon could voice another protest, the jarring sound of the alarm bell rung through the firehouse. The three men rushed for the firepole, with Winston pausing only long enough to turn off the stove first.

Janine was holding up the work order as they approached her desk. "Sounds like a fairly easy one, guys," she announced, handing the slip of paper to Egon for his perusal. "From the description, it sounds like a Class Five is pigging out at the food storage warehouse by the docks."

"Hmm, quite possibly another nether entity," Egon pondered aloud, handing the work order to Winston before patting down his pockets in search of a PKE meter. "I doubt you'd need my help in capturing it, but I would like to go along and take some readings. A comparison of different Class Fives might help with future busts of this nature." Finding nothing in his pockets but a cookie, Egon strode to his locker to continue his search there.

"Great, and I'll bet this one's gonna want to slime me, too," Peter grumbled, loading proton packs in the back of Ecto while Winston warmed the engine of the old car. "And before you even say anything, Spengler, we're not keeping Slimer's kissing cousin for study, understand? One chowhound around here is enough!"

"Hey, I don't eat that much!" Ray protested as he pelted up the basement stairs. "Besides, didn't I tell you it was a tapeworm?"

The others grinned as he skidded to a stop in front of his locker and yanked it open. "What do we have?" he asked, pulling out his Ecto-scopes and a spare PKE meter, "Class Six? Class Nine? A demigod? Gee, I hope it doesn't go on a rampage and tear up the city; we always get blamed for it..."

"Whoa, slow down, Tex," Peter interrupted, closing with Ray, "this is an easy one; just a lousy Class Five having a buffet at a warehouse. Winston and I can handle it, and Egon wants to go along to take a bunch of readings just so he has an excuse to stay up late tonight in the lab."

"Speaking of staying up late," Winston said, leaning out the driver's side window, "how's your project coming along? Is it gonna be ready in time for your seminar demonstration? You've been working on it for two days straight already."

Ray shrugged his shoulders. "Looks like I'm going to be pulling an all-nighter again," he answered. "Some of wiring connections are delicate and tricky; it sure doesn't help when they seem to make circuitboards smaller every year. Darn miniaturization, I'm going to have to have hands like Janine's if I want to finish this." He wiggled his thick fingers for emphasis.

Plucking the Ecto-scopes away from Ray, Peter replaced them up on the locker shelf. "If it makes you feel any better, Egon can help you solder the connections as soon as we get back and eat, right, Egon?"

"Most assuredly." Long fingers plucked the PKE meter out of Ray's hand. "I would be more than willing to forgo entering any new data on nether entities until we finish your project, Ray."

"There, you see? Now be good, and I'll bring you back some souvenir slime," Peter patted the round cheeks, "I'll probably be covered in it anyway." Ray put on a halfhearted grin. "Atta boy," Peter said, rushing for the shotgun position before Egon could claim it. "Oh, could you do me a favor, and take care of the ice chest on the kitchen counter for me? Thanks, buddy, I owe you one."

"Sure, Peter," Ray agreed, as Ecto backed out of the firehouse into the street. Ray sighed. Could he help it if he loved his work? Was it his fault that Ghostbusting came as naturally to him as breathing? He felt like a thoroughbred still stuck at the gate as the others raced away down the track. "Darn, old project," he grumbled softly to himself.

As he turned towards the stairs, Janine caught his eye and smiled sympathetically. "Next time, Ace," she assured him with a wink before returning to her backlogged paperwork.

Trudging up the stairs, the smell of Winston's chili invaded his senses. The aroma brought a genuine smile to his face, and Ray wasted no time heading to the kitchen for a taste. The salad makings were already chopped, so he scraped them into a bowl, and returned it to the refrigerator so it wouldn't wilt. Shrugging, he decided to set the table so they could all eat when the guys got back; he hoped it wouldn't be too long.

It was then that Ray noticed the styrofoam cooler sitting next to the sink. *Oh, yeah...Peter asked me to take care of this,* he remembered. As he hefted the container to put it into the refrigerator, he heard a sloshing sound. *What on earth?* he wondered, setting the ice chest on the floor to take a peek inside. "Wow!" he gasped out loud, "Oh, wow..."

Janine paused from her typing to look up as Ecto-1 pulled into the garage. She immediately searched the interior for any lack of occupants, as she always did when they returned from a bust. It was a habit she ingrained upon herself early on due to the fact that busting was dangerous; even so-called, 'simple' busts could go wrong, and all too often they wound up in the emergency room for some injury or another. She went down her mental checklist: three Ghostbusters left, and three Ghostbusters returned; priority one, check.

Janine watched them get out of the car, scrutinizing them intently for signs of collapse or unsteadiness. They seemed to be mobile on their own and steady on their feet, no obvious broken bones, strained muscles, or head trauma; priority two, check.

Peter was covered in a gooey, sloppy mess and scowling in distaste, while Egon and Winston seemed untouched and barely hiding their amusement; the bust went well; priority three, check and double check.

"So, how'd it go?" she asked, nonchalantly.

Peter paused while slogging his way to the stairs to throw her an annoyed look. "Egon got his readings, Winston got the gooper, and I am never playing bait again!" he proclaimed, all the while dripping slime and food remnants all over the garage floor. "Now, if you don't mind, Ms Melnitz, I'm going upstairs to get clean; unless you'd like to do the honors?" he leered, waggling his eyebrows.

She matched his evil smile. "Gladly...Winston, go hook up the fire hose for me, willya?"

Venkman hissed, making the sign of the cross at her with two fingers, and rushed up the stairs for the safety of the shower. Janine smirked, turning to Egon. "So what happened this time? He's messier than usual."

Spengler could barely stifle a grin. "Peter decided to lure the nether entity out into the open by insulting it. Unfortunately, the being decided that food can also be used as a projectile weapon, and it had a vast arsenal to choose from. I had a passing flashback to my college years, and the food fights Peter's fraternity brothers liked to stage in the cafeteria."

"Coulda been worse," Winston shrugged, "the food could've been canned."

"That would have been one for the headlines," Janine giggled, "'Ghostbuster hospitalized by Jolly Green Giant!' Dr. V would never live it down."

Egon handed her the check, and a copy of the invoice. "I doubt he would ever want to eat canned vegetables again." He hefted the full trap. "I'll put the ghost in the containment unit, and join you both upstairs for lunch."

As Spengler moved towards the basement stairs, Janine pulled a small sign out of a drawer and set it up on her desk. The small sign had originally read: 'Ring Bell For Service,' but the words, 'Ring Bell' had been crossed out and replaced with, 'Yell.'

Janine had bought the sign in case she was away from the desk when a customer came in. Accompanying the sign was a little bell, the kind you would normally see on a hotel front desk. Unfortunately, Slimer had thought that ringing the bell every time Janine left was great fun, much to Janine's disgust. But when Slimer had taken to ringing it constantly in the middle of the night, Peter had taken his thrower and neutronized it, threatening to do the same to the little green ghost if he made the least little peep the rest of the night.

Janine and Winston, chatting amiably together as they headed for the staircase, stopped when they heard a yell from upstairs: Peter.

They rushed up the steps as fast as they could, followed closely by Egon, trap still in hand. As they reached the landing which opened up into the dining room, they nearly collided with Peter, who was standing stock still, and gaping into the rec room.

"What's wrong, Pete?" Winston, the first up the stairs, noticed the look on the psychologist's face as one of both surprise and horror. He could not seem to speak, only able to point into the other room. Winston and the others followed Venkman's extended arm, striving to see what was causing Peter's distress.

"Didja see a rat, Dr. V?" Janine shuddered at the thought.

"Was it a paranormal entity?" ventured Egon.

"Slimer eat all our lunch again?" this from Winston.

Peter found his voice, and pointed again, slinging a small trail of ectoplasm and mashed fruit in front of him. "No, by the window...look!"

Four sets of eyes settled on the newly erected aquarium on the other side of the couch, while four more sets of eyes within the tank stared outward.

"Oh my," was all Egon could say at the moment.

Winston let out the breath he had been holding with a 'whoosh,' then started chuckling. "That's our Ray," he chortled, shaking his head.

Peter's face had now contorted into shock and righteous indignation. He flung out his other arm to join the first, as if imploring them to look again at the sight he beheld. "But, that's our dinner!" he indicated the four crustaceans placidly scouring the gravel in the bottom of the tank for food.

Janine brushed past the guys, careful to avoid touching the slimy, gooey Venkman. She strode over to the tank, bending to peer inside. "I bet Ray didn't realize you brought them home to eat, Dr. V, and dragged the old aquarium out of storage for the new pets." She tapped on the glass, prompting one of the lobsters to approach in search of food. "Can I have the one with the uneven antennas? He looks yummy."

"Janine!" Peter wailed.

Egon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Knowing Ray, he knew very well that the lobsters were to be eaten, he's just too softhearted to want us to go through with it."

"Well, I don't care!" Peter's indignation was bubbling over, "I'm not missing out on the best dinner of the year just because Ray wants to play mother hen to a bunch of underwater bugs! And that lobster is mine, Janine!" he growled at her.

"Grouch," she snorted.

"What's all the yelling about?" Ray had appeared at the top of the stairway, drawn up by all the noise.

Peter descended upon Ray like a starving hawk on a rabbit, leaving a gooshy trail in his wake. "Ray, I don't care what you do, but I want those lobsters out of that tank by the time I finish my shower, get me?!" He turned to stomp his way up the spiral staircase, leaving sticky splatters everywhere. If he didn't look at Ray's face, he wouldn't see the hurt look there, and feel the urge to cave in from those puppy eyes...

"Can I keep one of them, at least? Please?" Aw damn, hearing the plaintive voice was bad enough...

Peter stopped, halfway up the stairs. "Okay, but just one." He thought a moment, "You can keep the one with the uneven antennas, he's the smallest."

"Thanks, Peter," Ray said, but it was lost as Peter hurried up the stairs before he could change his mind and let him keep all four of them.

Egon broke the reigning silence with, "I'll take the Five down to the basement, and put him in containment." He hefted the trap and started down the stairs towards the basement.

Janine cast a glare in Venkman's direction as she, also, descended the stairs for her desk.

Winston clapped a hand on Ray's shoulder. "Tough break, Ray, but you gave it a good go." He gestured towards the aquarium. "Need any help with them?"

Ray shook his head. "No, I'll handle it. Could you do me a favor, and ask Egon to look over my project to see if there's an easier way to wire the connections? I'll reheat the chili when I'm done."

Winston knew that pleading look only too well. "Yeah, I'll stall Egon while you make your getaway." He jerked a thumb towards the upstairs bathroom, where they could hear the shower running. "You know Pete's gonna give you grief when he finds out, right?"

"The famous wrath of Venkman." He nodded his head. "Yeah, I know, but I'll make sure you guys aren't caught in the fallout." He jerked his own thumb downstairs. "Go help Egon, okay? I'll take it from here."

Winston squeezed his shoulder before heading down the stairs. After Winston left, Ray retrieved the styrofoam ice chest from the kitchen, filling it with some leftover RealOcean water from the pet store. He placed the partially full cooler in front of the aquarium, rolled up his sleeves, and began to fish gingerly for the lobsters, which no longer had their claws restricted with rubber bands. "Sorry, guys," he told the large-clawed one as he pulled it from the tank, "I wish I could save all of you, but it looks like one of you will be left behind." Beady eyes stared up at him. "Gosh, don't look at me like that, you know the saying: 'The good of the many, etc.?' I'll be lucky if Peter is speaking to me by tomorrow as it is."

Placing the lobster into the cooler, he fished for the other two, getting a pinch for his trouble. "Just goes to show you," he said, dropping them into the ice chest with their companion, "try to help you out, and all I get is grief. Well, I forgive you, and you'll be happier soon, anyway."

Placing the lid on the chest, he sloshed his way downstairs to Ecto, placing the cooler on the garage floor as he fished for his keys in his pocket. After he had loaded the lobsters into the front seat, he looked up to see Janine gazing fondly at him.

He used the same pleading look that he used on Winston, and Janine snorted. "What, am I gonna go up there and interrupt his shower? Geddouttahere, Ray." She dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

Ray grinned in spite of himself. If anyone could handle Peter, it was Janine; she didn't take any guff from him, or anybody. Sliding into the front seat, he cranked up the old, reliable car. With a last wave to Janine, he backed out of the garage. "Come on guys," he told the ice chest, "let's get you home."

In the basement, Egon and Winston were looking over the tangled mess of wires and circuit boards that constituted Ray's seminar project. The physicist had been poking into the innards of the device while Winston had been merely tidying up a bit, rolling up bits of unused wire and putting strewn-about tools into their proper places.

"So," Winston started, "you have any idea just what this thing is supposed to do?"

Egon glanced at the schematic once more before returning his attention to the circuit boards. "It appears to be a device that measures the viscosity of ectoplasm."

"You mean, like motor oil?" Winston handed Egon the soldering iron so the blond could complete the circuit that Ray had been working on, his long fingers easily reaching into the mass of wires and circuitry surrounding his hands. "Why would Ray need to measure that? All he has to do is ask Pete; if anyone could tell the difference, he can."

Egon grinned at that. "True, but I think Ray needs a more reliable gauge then just, 'Nasty, Messy, and Harder Than Hell To Shampoo Out.'" He contemplated the device for a moment. "Perhaps Ray is interested in marketing ectoplasm for use in automobiles. An efficient substitute for motor oil, perhaps, and is not pollutive to the environment, besides."

"That's our Ray," Winston chuckled, "only he could think of 30wt slime that is biodegradable." He frowned slightly. "He'd better not try it out on Ecto, if he knows what's good for him."

"More than likely, he will coerce Janine into the use of her car, as hers is more easily fixable than Ecto..." He broke off at the sound of the latter car starting up in the garage. Egon spared Winston a small look of hurt betrayal. "He didn't..."

Winston spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "I know nothing; I was only sent down to help you out."

Egon shook his head. "Then I, like you, will feign ignorance. I only hope that Peter is not too harsh with him, when he finds out."

Peter Venkman, in much happier spirits now that he was finally clean, whistled to himself as he carefully stepped down the spiral stairs, on the way to the kitchen. He knew he had to clean up the slimy mess that he left behind on the way up, but he wanted to eat first. Funny how being plastered with food can make one hungry.

He passed through the rec room, sparing a glance at the aquarium by the window. The beady black eyes of just one lobster stared at him, and Peter nodded in satisfaction.

In the kitchen, Peter snatched a piece of cornbread from the pan, wolfing it down dry. If Winston complained about starting early, tough; he deserved a treat for playing bait while being pelted by fresh fruit and vegetables. He opened the refrigerator for the milk to wash down his treat, and froze.

No styrofoam ice chest with lobsters inside occupied the bottom of the fridge.

He slammed the refrigerator door, and searched the kitchen. No sign of the cooler anywhere. A sudden realization came to Peter, one that made his throat close around the crumbs still sticking there, causing him to cough involuntarily.

"He didn't!" Peter croaked, heading for the firepole in order to bypass the slippery stairs. As he slid to a stop at the bottom, his worst thoughts were confirmed: Ecto-1 was gone. "He did," he groaned.

"Did what?" Janine asked innocently from her desk.

Affecting his most 'I'm the boss and what you are about to say next may affect your paycheck' smuggest grin, Peter advanced upon their secretary. "Janine," his voice dripped honey, "where did Ray say he was going?"

Janine decided the game was worth playing. "He didn't say, Dr. V, but he was singing, "Born Free," as he left."

She grinned to herself as Venkman's wail of, "NOOOOOOOooooooo..." wafted back to her from outside as Peter ran off down the street.

Ray sat on the edge of the dock, staring out over the water. It seemed like a stupid choice to make, in retrospect, but stupid or not, it was the choice Ray had made, for better or for worse. By now, the lobsters would have had time to reach the open ocean, and freedom to continue their lives.

Booted feet resounded on the wooden planks of the dock, coming to a stop right next to him. "You know, you didn't do those lobsters any favors by throwing them into that water, it's filthy!"

Ray looked up to see Peter leaning on the wooden railing, staring out over the water, also. The psychologist frowned as he lowered himself to sit next to Ray. "They'll probably get caught again, and end up in somebody else's soup pot, instead of mine."

"Perhaps," Ray agreed, "but they'll have a chance, at least." He didn't want to argue with Peter, but at least his friend was speaking to him, which was more than he hoped for at the moment. "Are you mad, Peter? I know the lobsters cost a lot of money, but--"

"Mad? Nah," Peter interrupted his friend, "those lobsters didn't cost me a cent. It was more the idea of losing out on a great meal, than the value of it." He looked at Ray, concerned. "So, what's the story, Tex? You were a Boy Scout once; they teach you survival tactics like killing your own food and stuff, this should be no different. If you were any more softer-hearted than you already are, you'd be a vegetarian, and yelling at us for wearing leather on our feet." He playfully kicked at one of Stantz's dangling boots with his own, prompting Ray to grin at him.

"You're right, Peter, it's just that I had a bad experience with a lobster as a kid, and it stuck with me after all this time, that's all." He sat silent for a moment, but knowing Peter would pry the story from him sooner or later, he continued, "My Dad brought home this lobster once, a real big sucker, too. At least, I thought so at the time. Dad proudly proclaimed that he was gonna cook it for dinner, and got out the big pot to boil it with. Only, our stove didn't work so well, and the water must not have gotten hot enough, because when he put the lobster in the pot, it banged around for the longest time..."

He sighed, and Peter put an arm around his shoulder. "Must have scared you half to death," Venkman sympathized, squeezing the shoulder lightly.

"Not really scared, more like..." Ray groped for words, "...I felt sorry for the poor thing. No animal should suffer like that just so I could eat, and I never could eat a lobster after that, no matter how hard I tried." He nudged Peter's knee with his own. "I left one in the tank, you can eat it if it makes you feel any better."

Peter sighed wistfully. "No, I gave that one to you, and I'm a man of my word; he's your pet, Ray. Maybe after he dies of old age, I'll make gumbo out of him, but not a moment before." He snorted with amusement, "Only you would have a lobster as a pet, I swear. So, whatcha gonna name the critter?"

"That's easy. Steven. Uneven Steven, because his antennas are uneven, remember?" he wiggled his fingers at his temples in a lopsided fashion, making Peter laugh.

"Come on, Tex, Winston's chili is probably stone cold by now, and I'm starving." Peter rose and helped Ray to his feet. As they both walked towards Ecto, he asked, "There aren't...any other animals I should know about before I bring one home to eat, is there?"

Ray grinned even wider. "No, Peter, in fact, rabbit stew tastes pretty good, from what I remember."

"Hmm, I wonder if Winston's Mom knows how to make it..." Peter's eyes became distant, "...she could make it for Sunday dinner, too."

Ray rubbed his stomach in anticipation. "That sounds great, as long as we warn Mrs. Zeddemore to hide the cookie jar beforehand."

They slid into the old car, and drove back to the firehouse; the both of them extolling the virtues of Mrs. Zeddemore's home cooking; something they both agreed on.

THE END

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