"You try that old line on me all the time, and I keep telling you you can't get sick through anything short of face-melting radiation or whatever the Amoeba Boys were spreading a few years ago. And this face isn't melting. If you stay home today, you'll have to sit out any emergencies for a week. That means no fighting of any kind. Is it worth going back to sleep to miss out on all the villains who might attack the city in a whole week? Think about sleeping. Now think about pounding Fuzzy Lumpkins in the chops. Which will it be?" It was almost a rhetorical question. Buttercup would never pass up so much violence just to sleep in. He was almost cocky as he asked it, completely confident in his prediction of the outcome. The Professor took a sip from his coffee mug as Buttercup asked Blossom her question. He chuckled as Schmarfield reminded him of how much he hated Thursdays.<br/><br/>Across town, a cell phone rang in a very messy bedroom. The owner's arm reached for it in what he thought was still darkness, though he'd only neglected to open his eyes. He finally made contact with the thing playing a beepy version of a generic metal riff and his consciousness returned to him just before throwing it out a window.<br/><br/>"Whayawan'?"<br/><br/>"I need you and your brothers for a job...son."