Lasagna Land (A Newsboys [Puns-Intended {Cheesy}] Fanfic)

Epilogue

10 years later...

"Anything good in the ol' fridge, Pete?"

Paul, beckoning Craig and, more importantly, the camera, to follow him, slipped into the deserted kitchen of The Cottage. Since Peter had transformed his guesthouse into a recording studio, the kitchen got little use, and Paul was determined to document some moldy leftovers from the Love Liberty Disco days in his podcast.

Paul crouched down so he was beside the refrigerator and placed his hand on the handle. He looked into the camera and raised a brow, "Let's see what the fuel of a master songwriter is, oi?"

He dramatically opened the door to reveal a paltry three bottles of water and a Powerade. Nothing interesting at all. Paul gave the camera a disdainful glare and turned to shut the fridge, and it was then that the outdated Tupperware container in the back corner caught his eye.

With a revived sparkle in his eyes, Paul pulled out the container and opened the lid to the disgusting, yet vengefully pleasing odor of moldy, cold meatball. Oddly enough, there was no pasta, no sauce, not even another meatball. The poor thing had sat alone for only God knows how long growing mold and slowly rotting in the back corner of the fridge. Now this... This was something he could make a podcast out of.

"How long's this meatball been in here, mate?" Paul lifted the offending leftover toward Peter, who was watching from behind Craig and the camera.

"I... er, it's a bit of a story..."

Paul set the container on the counter, then reached forward and pulled Pete into the camera frame by his shirtsleeve. "This should make a good podcast," he stage-whispered in aside, then turned to the camera. "Here you have it, the story of Pete's old moldy Cottage fridge meatball, a newsboys podcast exclusive interview!"

"I'm not talking about this on camera, Paulipops." Peter reached for the Tupperware, but Paul shot out an arm to stop him.

"I will eat this meatball if you don't tell the story." Paul said with bravado, secretly hoping Pete would call his bluff so he wouldn't have to risk his health.

"No!" Peter lunged forward, this time snatching the container before Paul could stop him. "We promised Boris we'd keep him safe until we could get him home again!"

Paul quickly looked into the camera, raising a brow slightly, before asking Peter why in the world he had named a meatball, let alone made promises to it.

"I didn't name him, that's how he introduced himself. We met him back in '96 after the set of Down Under The Big Top turned into an Italian lady's pantry..." Hugging the Tupperware to his chest, Peter turned to look at Craig. "Turn that thing off, will ya?"

Craig mimicked turning off the camera, leaving it rolling without Pete knowing, because this would be one heck of an entertaining thing to watch over and over again, even if it didn't make the podcast.

"Okay, so remember when you said about why don't we make a movie like Big Top again and we all freaked out?"

Paul nodded, remembering the podcast flop that was DUTBT 2. He'd come into the studio in full-on clown gear and was greeted with terrified screams. Admittedly, he had done it with no warning and his clown makeup, done by his young daughters, was much more terrifying than a professional job would have been, but still, Craig was right behind him with the camera, and everyone knew that Craig only followed Paul with the dreaded filming device.

"Here's the long and short of it. The place turned to lasagna, a Fox kidnapped Phil and Kevin, Boris helped us find them, Helmut made a guitar out of pasta, Squiz tamed a snake, Oinch and Squiz met their wives and I think Jody met his girlfriend, Cap'n Crunch is a terrible sailor, I learned how to be a leader in adverse circumstances... I don't really remember what Johnny did... then we all jumped in a volcano that was actually a black hole and came back here but Boris wasn't alive because food isn't alive in this dimension so I put him in that container until a passage to Lasagna Land reopened and it hasn't happened yet which is odd considering Breeon and Jeni might have come from there and—"

Pete stopped to catch his breath. Paul reopened the fridge and pulled out a water bottle, twisting the cap off before handing it to his dehydrated mate. As Peter took a swig of the hydrogen dioxide, Paul looked over to the camera, which, to his joy, was still rolling, according to the small red light on top. This would be a good podcast indeed. Even if it did leave him wondering what kind of crazy people he'd decided to live the next few years of his life with.