Title: The Great Easter Candy Caper

Author: Jungle Kitty

Contact: kittyjungle@earthlink.net

Series: pre-TOS (Star Trek: The Original Series)

Part: 1/1

Codes: Kirk, Mitchell, Brandt, humor

Rating: PG

Feedback: Yes, please.

Archive: It's already there.

Summary: A practical joke at Starfleet Academy backfires. Written in response to a challenge for stories with an Easter theme.

The Star Trek characters and universe are the property of Paramount and Viacom. This not-for-profit piece of fan fiction is not intended to infringe upon that. The copyright applies only to the author's original characters and creative content.



THE GREAT EASTER CANDY CAPER
(c) 1998 Jungle Kitty


"I could write a sonnet about your Easter bonnet--"

Cadet Gary Mitchell stepped out of the shower, singing happily. If the glorious spring that had finally arrived wasn't reason enough for singing, a date with Liz Vozza certainly was. Drying himself vigorously, he finished in a loud, enthusiastic voice, "--and of the girl I'm taking to the Easter Parade!"

As he wrapped the towel around his waist, he heard a loud groan from the other side of the door. He pressed the control, the door slid open, and he saw his roommate curled up in bed, clutching his stomach.

"Jim? Are you hurt?"

"No, just sick. Upset stomach."

"Can I get you some bicarb?"

"Already tried that. Just leave me alone."

"What did you eat?"

Cadet Kirk responded with a drawn-out moan.

"Maybe you should go to the infirmary--"

There was a loud, sharp rap on the door.

"Just a minute!" Mitchell yelled, reaching for his pants.

His instruction was ignored and the door whooshed open. Storming past the naked man hopping into his trousers, Cadet Brandt confronted the sufferer on the bed.

"I hope you're happy!" she snapped.

"What?"

"You just can't stand to see me enjoy myself, can you?" She sat down hard on the bed.

"Uhf! Don't bounce! I'll throw up."

"Leave him alone, Brat," Mitchell scolded, zipping his fly. "Can't you see he's sick?"

"Good! I'm glad." She pointed an accusing finger at Kirk. "You deserve to be sick. And if you weren't sick, I'd beat the crap out of you, you-- you--juvenile delinquent."

"What did he do?" Mitchell asked, pulling his shirt off the back of a chair.

"Yeah, what'd I do?"

"I just broke up with Finnegan and it's all your fault," Brandt spat the allegation.

Despite the churning in his gut, Kirk smiled. "Is there a down side to this?"

"I'll show you the down side." Brandt raised the back of her hand to him but before she could complete the motion, Mitchell pulled her off the bed and dragged her to the other side of the room.

"Calm down and tell me what happened," he said firmly.

She fumed for a few seconds.

"I took Captain deMarc's dog to the park and on the way back, I ran into Finnegan. He said he had some Easter candy for me in his room--"

Kirk snorted. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to accept candy from *strange* men?"

"Shut up, you. Well, you know what a sweet tooth he has. I figured I stood to score a chocolate bunny and at least a couple dozen of those little chocolate eggs--"

"You were going to put out for little chocolate eggs?" asked Kirk, enjoying himself despite his nausea.

"I wasn't going--I'm not talking to you." She turned back to Mitchell, who was now fully clothed. "So he took me to his room and--"

"Stop right there," Kirk called out piteously. "If you say another word, I *will* throw up."

"He took me to his room but when we got there, someone had snuck in, broken into his candy stash and vandalized it!"

"Vandalized how?" Mitchell asked.

"Someone--who's going to be doing push-ups from now until graduation if Finnegan ever twigs to who did it--*someone* bit the head off each and every one of the peeps!"

Mitchell burst out laughing and Kirk turned to the wall to conceal a sly smirk.

"Headless p-p-peeps?" Mitchell sputtered.

"Yes," Brandt said tersely and bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling.

Concealing his satisfaction, Kirk turned to his companions and said, "What makes you think I did it? There are least ten other people on campus who have it in for him."

"Oh, come on!" Brandt jeered. "That has James T. Kirk written all over it. You grew up on a farm. You've probably done hundreds of appalling things to animals. Decapitating seventy-two marshmallow chicks would be nothing--"

"Seventy-two?" Mitchell repeated, wide-eyed.

"Yes," Brandt said sadly. "Finnegan is a secret peeps freak."

"Disgusting." Kirk shook his head.

"Really," Mitchell agreed. "I'm surprised they let someone like that into the Academy."

"Well, he's furious," Brandt warned. "He swore he'll find out who did it."

"How?" Mitchell responded derisively. "Have everyone on campus bite off a peep-head so he can compare teethmarks?"

"He actually thought of that but I pointed out how 'Captain Queeg' it sounded."

"So you broke up with him for being a peeps freak," Mitchell concluded.

"No. When I saw all those headless peeps...I laughed. And we had a big fight and now it's over."

"Brat." Mitchell put a consoling arm around her shoulder. "You're not really upset about breaking up with Finnegan, are you?"

"Well... no. But I *did* want those little chocolate eggs."

"I'll buy you a whole bag tomorrow." He smiled sweetly. "And Jim will buy you two."

"I will not!" Kirk protested. "That would be an admission of guilt!"

"Lying in bed with a stomach ache is an admission of guilt!" Mitchell pointed out archly.

"Well, you try eating seventy-two peep-heads in less than three minutes and see how you feel!" Kirk retorted.

"Ah-ha!" Brandt crowed as Mitchell guffawed. "I knew it!"

"Why the hell did you eat them?" Mitchell merrily continued his interrogation. "Why didn't you just bite off the heads and spit them out?"

Kirk chewed his lip uncomfortably. "I liked them."

"Oh my God. I'm rooming with a peeps freak."

"Oh, Gary." Brandt took his hand and squeezed it sympathetically. "Maybe they'll let you switch next semester."

Seized by a sudden cramp, Kirk clutched his abdomen and moaned pitiably.

"O-o-o-h. Brat, do me a favor."

"Why should I do you a favor?"

"*Please*. Go to Finnegan's room and make up with him--just for a few minutes--and check the expiration date on that candy."

"Absolutely not. This is poetic justice, isn't it, Gary?"

"Clearest case I've ever seen," Mitchell replied. Then, grinning wickedly, he continued, "But it might be interesting to find out exactly what peeps are made of. I mean, how could they come up with something that nasty but still edible?"

"I don't know," Brandt played along, frowning in puzzlement. "I think the main ingredients are nuclear waste and proto-matter."

"Don't forget extract of old gym socks," Mitchell added.

Kirk groaned even louder.

"Oh, all right, you big baby." Brandt rolled her eyes in disgust.

"You'll find out if they were bad?"

"No, but I'll take you to the infirmary. Get up." She pulled him to his feet.

"I don't need to--" Kirk protested weakly as Mitchell helped him into his jacket.

"JT," Brandt admonished him. "You're going to the infirmary. You'll feel better, and Gary and I could use a good laugh."

Catching Mitchell's quizzical expression, she continued, "Well, don't you want to see the look on the doctor's face when they pump his stomach and seventy-two peep-heads come up?"

"Nooooo!" Kirk howled as his two friends led him out the door.



[The End]