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Description
Lady sat at her desk, trying to concentrate on her work. It wasn't easy being a plot god, and she was hoping for as few distractions as possible to finalize her plans. The crunching sounds that assailed her ears though weren't making her focus any better. She glanced over at the grey shaggy form laying nearby on a rug. Lizard had just returned from a hunt, and he was now happily chewing on the metal bumper from a bus. Lady growled.
"Can you try to be a bit quieter?" she asked the pet werewolf.
Lizard looked up.
"Sorry, Lady," he said.
Once more he chomped on the bumper, attempting to be quite, but his efforts only made the tortured metal squeal louder. Lizard winced, looking sheepishly at Lady. Lady shook her head and rolled her eyes. Glancing back at her work, she continued setting out her plans. Suddenly an itch started at the back of her neck. She squirmed, ignoring it, but slowly the itch grew more intense. Lady scratched the spot, feeling instant relief until her fingers touched a lump. The plot god frowned. She plucked at the lump, and it came away from her neck. She looked at it. Between her fingers sat a big red flea. Lady looked back over to the werewolf on the rug.
"LIZARD!"
Lizard jumped, dropping his bumper.
"I'm being quiet," he complained.
Lady held up the flea.
"What do you call this?" she asked, standing up.
Lizard cowered, his eyes going wide as he recognized what she showed him, and what it meant.
"How many times have you been warned about bringing werefleas into the house?" Lady growled.
The plot god reached into her special pocket dimension, pulling out her trusty 'Toilet Brush Of Doom'. It burst into flames, and she advanced on Lizard who panicked, slipping on the rug in his attempt to escape.
"Now, Lizard," Lady said, a sinister grin tugging at her lips. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. It's your choice."

Web looked up from reading his newspaper as the tortured howls and smell of burning fur reached him.
"Lady's mauling Lizard again," he said calmly.
Opposite him at the table, Uncanny sipped her Dr Pepper.
"Sounds like he has fleas," she replied, recognizing the tone of the howls.
"Maybe we should buy him a flea collar for his birthday," Web said, turning his attention back to his paper.
The Uncanny One shrugged.
"Perhaps," she said. "But then, where would the fun be in that?"

Lady stood over the quivering form of Lizard. His fur had been thoroughly scrubbed and burnt off, and he whimpered slightly from the treatment. Lady smiled.
"There, isn't that much better?" she asked.
Lady crouched down, patting Lizard's head briefly before standing up again. He really was a loyal friend and pet, but there were times he needed to be punished for his own good. A soft growl echoed about and Lady looked at her stomach, chuckling. She twirled her toilet brush around her finger and slipped it away before heading into the kitchen to get something to eat. A good mauling always did build up a healthy appetite...

Lady is

Uncanny is

Web is

Lizard is me.

Description
Lady sat at her desk, trying to concentrate on her work. It wasn't easy being a plot god, and she was hoping for as few distractions as possible to finalize her plans. The crunching sounds that assailed her ears though weren't making her focus any better. She glanced over at the grey shaggy form laying nearby on a rug. Lizard had just returned from a hunt, and he was now happily chewing on the metal bumper from a bus. Lady growled.
"Can you try to be a bit quieter?" she asked the pet werewolf.
Lizard looked up.
"Sorry, Lady," he said.
Once more he chomped on the bumper, attempting to be quite, but his efforts only made the tortured metal squeal louder. Lizard winced, looking sheepishly at Lady. Lady shook her head and rolled her eyes. Glancing back at her work, she continued setting out her plans. Suddenly an itch started at the back of her neck. She squirmed, ignoring it, but slowly the itch grew more intense. Lady scratched the spot, feeling instant relief until her fingers touched a lump. The plot god frowned. She plucked at the lump, and it came away from her neck. She looked at it. Between her fingers sat a big red flea. Lady looked back over to the werewolf on the rug.
"LIZARD!"
Lizard jumped, dropping his bumper.
"I'm being quiet," he complained.
Lady held up the flea.
"What do you call this?" she asked, standing up.
Lizard cowered, his eyes going wide as he recognized what she showed him, and what it meant.
"How many times have you been warned about bringing werefleas into the house?" Lady growled.
The plot god reached into her special pocket dimension, pulling out her trusty 'Toilet Brush Of Doom'. It burst into flames, and she advanced on Lizard who panicked, slipping on the rug in his attempt to escape.
"Now, Lizard," Lady said, a sinister grin tugging at her lips. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. It's your choice."

Web looked up from reading his newspaper as the tortured howls and smell of burning fur reached him.
"Lady's mauling Lizard again," he said calmly.
Opposite him at the table, Uncanny sipped her Dr Pepper.
"Sounds like he has fleas," she replied, recognizing the tone of the howls.
"Maybe we should buy him a flea collar for his birthday," Web said, turning his attention back to his paper.
The Uncanny One shrugged.
"Perhaps," she said. "But then, where would the fun be in that?"

Lady stood over the quivering form of Lizard. His fur had been thoroughly scrubbed and burnt off, and he whimpered slightly from the treatment. Lady smiled.
"There, isn't that much better?" she asked.
Lady crouched down, patting Lizard's head briefly before standing up again. He really was a loyal friend and pet, but there were times he needed to be punished for his own good. A soft growl echoed about and Lady looked at her stomach, chuckling. She twirled her toilet brush around her finger and slipped it away before heading into the kitchen to get something to eat. A good mauling always did build up a healthy appetite...

Lady is

Uncanny is

Web is

Lizard is me.