I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW! I promised to post this YESTERDAY! I planned to devote a WHOLE HOUR to writing this chapter. And stupid Daylight Savings Time totally ate up that hour...~curses DST under her breath~

So...I made this chappie EXTRA LONG to make up for it! YAY! ~smiles happily, jumps up and down, slips on the carpet because she's wearing her lucky socks, and injures her...sitting muscles~

I promised extra fluffiness...and here it is! The Marshmallow King has emerged, and with evil plans to destroy the world!~taps the table in a drumroll, accidentally hits the stapler, and holds her fingers in pain~

OK, enough of my rambling. Read your heart out!

The Marshmallow King leaned back into his chair, leaned a little too hard, and fell over with a strangled, "Greetings, Enchilada Emperor."

Fluffiness ran over to help the King up, and bowed to the Emperor.

"How are you today, King Marshmallow?" the Emperor lit a candy cane cigar with one hand, missing his target with the lighter and setting his robes on fire.

"Forget the formalities, Enchilada," the King scoffed. "Fluffiness and I have matters of much importance to discuss."

Fluffiness cleared his throat at that, seeing the Emperor stop trying to put out the flames creeping up his sleeve and stare at the King, shell-shocked. "Perhaps he could assist in your master plan, sir."

Mollified for a moment, the Emperor took his glass of lemonade and dumped it over his head while waiting for the King to reply.

The King appeared thoughtful for a few minutes, and then agreed with his advisor. "Yes, it would be a great help."

The Emperor leaned forward in his chair so his face was enlarged on the screen through which the King and Fluffiness were looking at. "Let's hear this master plan then."

I flopped down on the bed, exhausted. It had been a long three days.

On the day of the car ride, Connor was positive his bladder would have exploded if he had to wait another hour to get to the nearest restroom, so Dad pulled over and Connor watered the plants along the highway.

With my I-pod still broken, I was forced to listen to the "old geezer" music Mom and Dad liked or Kerrie's screeching, ear-destroying imitation of Katy Perry's "ET". Luckily, Mom, having given birth to the three of us and knowing our shouting matches, had packed earplugs and handed over a set to me.

With about half an hour to the hotel, we got a flat tire from a glass beer bottle on the road. It took Dad an hour to unload ALL of Connor's clothes, and another hour to RELOAD everything and trying to make it fit, and only 10 minutes to replace the tire. By the time Dad had finished putting everything away and had eased himself onto the smelly cushion to start driving again, our stomachs were growling like bears. But we couldn't hear it over the thunderstorm that was happening.

After dinner, somehow Mom, Dad, Kerrie, and I managed to drag all of our, but mainly Connor's, luggage up 4 flights of stairs, with the elevator broken and Mr. I-need-my-whole-closet-in-order-to-survive-on-this-4-day-trip run off ahead because he had hair issues to deal with.

Yes, Connor had hair issues. He thought it was so bad, he shaved his head BALD!

When the bathroom door finally opened after what seemed like forever, Connor came out with his head as bare as a basketball.

After 15 minutes of non-stop laughing, silence, giggling, pouting in Connor's case, then all-out laughing again, no one thought we could laugh anymore. Until Kerrie went into shower.

She slipped on a bar of soap in the bathtub and as she fell, grabbed the emergency cord that was hanging on the side. In a matter of seconds, hotel staff came pounding on our door, yelling to see if Kerrie was all right and if she needed immediate medical assistance. Kerrie stomped out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, yanked the door to our room open, and fixed the guy standing in front of her with a murderous glare, slapped him in the face with her palm, slammed the door closed on his pink cheek, walked back into the bathroom, and then went back to singing, "Breakaway" by Kelly Clarkson. Mom had to get some ice to put on her stomach because it hurt so much from laughing.

Connor accidentally put one of Mom's laxatives into Dad's water glass he was going to drink with his vitamins. Let's just say that the ammo from lunch had still not worn off. The lax, plus Taco Bell's new burrito with extra beans, caused a stench that wafted from the bathroom into the room where we were sleeping that was enough to wipe out all of New York City for a whole month. Forget about atomic bombs and terrorism – here comes my dad, Robert the Farter!

The next day, Dad was still dealing with his problems. When we were getting ready for the wedding, the bathroom was available for only 10 minutes at a time, because, as Dad said, "When Mother Nature calls, you gotta answer."

So we arrived at the church, Connor wearing another hat to cover his bald head, and sitting in the pews nearest to the bathroom with Dad sitting on the outside, greeted my cousin and cousin to-be, Sofiya and Donovan. Dad's sister, my aunt Alina, was already rubbing her teary face in her handkerchief and smearing her make-up. Donovan's mom, Adeline, was crying also, but probably because Donovan was finally moving out. Sofiya's and Donovan's dads were sitting together in the corner, talking about the latest NBA basketball game. No problem with the in-laws then.

Sofiya and Uncle Dylan went to the back of the church, with the procession beginning in a few moments. We sat back and listened as the priest began.

20 minutes later, I realized I had been leaning on Dad's shoulder, and he was shaking me awake so he could go to the bathroom, even though the vows were starting.

"Do you, Sofiya Levine, take Donovan Andrews, as your lawfully wedded husband?" the priest looked up from his book to Sofiya.

Sofiya smiled, loving every second of this perfect, magical moment. "I do."

Then it all went downhill from there.

"Do you-hic-, Donovan-hic-Andrews, take So-hic-fiya Levine, as-hic-your law-hic-fully wed-hic-ded wife?" the priest covered his mouth with his hand, but the hiccups still continued.

Donovan answered with a loud sneeze, followed by a coughing fit, accompanied by the priest's hiccups, which lasted for over 3 minutes. Once his lungs started functioning again, he let out a wheezy, "I do."

"Then I pro-hic- nounce you man -hic- and wife. -hic - You may-hic- kiss the-hic-bride," said the priest, looking everywhere but the audience, especially Donovan's and Sofiya's parents.

The wedding reception at the restaurant didn't turn out any better either. Dad stopped the picture we were taking with Donovan and Sofiya twice to go to the bathroom. Connor was "showing off his moves" (YOU CAN'T SHOW OFF WHATCHA DON'T HAVE. But he ignored me when I screamed that line to him.) on the dance floor when an old lady, I think Donovan's grandmother, who was apparently deaf, told him his fly was open. He slipped on the floor in surprise, knocking over the wedding cake Aunt Alina had so carefully made. Kerrie tripped while she was talking to Sofiya, falling on top of her and staining her dress with apple juice. A waiter accidentally dumped a bowl of hot soup on Mom's lap, and she had to wear her jacket in the stuffy room the whole night to cover where the spill was.

I'd like to say I did fared better, but then that'd be lying. After Aunt Alina had gone out and bought a new cake, I helped her get it on the table, but I tripped over a piece of chicken. Chicken! And I grabbed the tablecloth while I was falling, knocking 3 bottles of champagne to the ground, yet still leaving the cake intact. Not such a big deal, right? Except…the person who Donovan and Sofiya had hired to film the reception caught the whole thing on camera. All I can say is: whoops.

We stayed at my cousins Kevin and Alex's house that night. Uncle Colt and Aunt Gabi had been in New York the first night, so we stayed in the hotel. It was crazy. Kerrie and I came out of the room we were sharing to find Connor, Kevin, and Alex playing Dance Dance Revolution to a song from Hannah Montana at 6 AM in the morning. And apparently, they hadn't gone to bed yet. Mom and Aunt Gabi didn't let them sleep. Instead, 3 lucky guys got to go scrub the toilets. Without breakfast. Kerrie and I stuck out our tongues and went to play Modern Warfare 2.

The day after, all of us well-rested, we went to Yellowstone. That was nothing short of a disaster.

Aunt Gabi stuck her camera out of her car to take a picture of a grizzly bear, dropped it, and a bison came over, picked it up, and ate it.

Uncle Colt lost his expensive, designer sunglasses. Twice. Because he left them on his head.

Connor got stung by 4 mosquitoes in 6 different places: his face, his arms, his stomach, his leg, and a big one on his left butt cheek when he sat down on a port-a-potty without looking to see what was underneath.

Dad STILL hadn't resolved his "issues" yet, so he was even MORE in touch with Mother Nature that day.(A/N That line came from my uncle. Let's just say he's dealt with these "issues" before...)

Mom barfed at the smell of Mammoth Hot Springs. (A/N I really recomment bringing something good-smelling if you plan to visit Mammoth Hot Springs. It smells BAD!)

Kevin and Alex got in trouble with the park rangers for passing the CAUTION line and trying to "get up close and personal" with Old Faithful, with 2 minutes left before the planned eruption of the geyser.

Kerrie and I almost fell backwards into a river when we leaned back to rest after a long walk.

Let's just say I was grateful when the car was headed back to Aunt Gabi and Uncle Colt's house.

I rolled over in my bed, recapping the visit to Wyoming. I smacked myself on the forehead. Tomorrow we'd be going home! And I still hadn't started my travel journal! Climbing out of the warm mattress, I crept over to the desk, turned on the light low so Kerrie could sleep, and started writing.

Fluffiness struggled to keep his eyes open as the Marshmallow King and the Enchilada Emperor discussed how their 2 armies would merge at certain points to launch the attack on the Brussels Sprouts Kingdom.

They were on the verge of getting to funding when the screen that showed the Emperor's face suddenly went on the fritz. Seconds later, it came back on.

"What happened?" the King had taken the time to shove French fries into his mouth when he thought the meeting was over.

The Emperor frowned. "It wasn't my side of the line. Check around you."

The King and Fluffiness inspected everywhere behind the screen. They were about to sit down again when a dark figure clad in black and mask jumped down from the ceiling in front of them.

The three of them froze, not knowing what to do, when the figure spoke.

"I am the Cavity Crown. Your plan has now become mine."

SO...The drama begins. Who is this guy, the Cavity Crown? Can we trust the Enchilada Emperor? Is Fluffiness acting weirdly?

Why does Kaylee have a travel journal? Does Robert the Farter ever resolve his "issues?"

Can the vet get over the smell of Mammoth Hot Springs? Do Kerrie's slaps hurt?

Is Connor's hair EVER going to grow back?

WELL...just wait and see...NEXT SUNDAY FOR SURE!

Hey...wait a second...I just noticed...Brussels Sprouts' initials are BS! XD

Lol, that's ironic. No offense, but I think Brussels sprouts taste like bitter, chewy crap. ugh...~shudders~

Anyways, see ya next week!

Until then!

~ZeeZee