"Cath was at the table, head down on the wood -- and scribbled quotes
all over her body, where someone (read: Jennieand Perri) had run out
of paper for a quote list and resorted to every single wall and,
finally, Cath."
--WAR: Crazy as the Cracks in This Old Guitar
by Perri Smith with the Leader Loop
O.K. Back in War 5, as some of you may remember, I ended up
keeping a little 'quote list' for my own amusement, which I later
offered to the list. It was something of a surprise hit.
Consequently, the Warmistresses-- High and Mighty Be Their
Nam... wait! War's over! I don't _have_ to suck up anymore! :-ppp--
asked if I would be so kind as to do the same this time [and, as
additional encouragement, threatened to misplace my entire affiliation
unless I agreed [g]].
So I did, and I have. It's long, it's tortured, it's thoroughly sick-
n-twisted, and it's taken out-of-context whenever and wherever
possible. A few words of disclaimer, however:
* It's completely subjective-- i.e. it's what *I* happened to think
at the time was funny or memorable. Some posts undoubtedly got
short-shrift due to me being sleep-deprived and/or frazzled when
reading them... so if your favorite line isn't here, don't take it
personally. In many ways, it's a crap-shoot.
* In many places it's out of order. The quotes should be more-
or-less in the order that the posts containing them arrived in my box.
That may mean that part 3 is ahead of part 1 and many threads
(especially those that were backdated a lot) are completely messed up.
Deal-- it's a quote list, not an outline :-)
* In addition, I think I got all duplicates, but it's late and this
was done in many, many parts... so I can't be sure.
* Contrary to last time, I did put stuff I'd written in too. I tried
to be restrained about it, and remember... there are a _lot_ of people
taking my name in vain here in quotes I had nothing to do with! [g]
* Finally, in grand tradition (i.e. 'like I did last time') I have
not corrected anything-- grammar, spelling, punctuation. Nothing's in here
_because_ of a typo (none of the typos were that funny :-), but many
are here _in spite of_. Again: Deal.
And so, without further ado, and with the invaluable aid of our very
own Listserv hampsters[sic], Joe and Percy, I present for your
amusement, the "Official" War 7 Quote List-- a.k.a "What Was Really
Scribbled on Catheboo in that Last Leader Conference":
"Oh my dear lord. What the hell is that?"
Perri could hear a faint voice coming out of it, saying "Mynd you,
moose bites Kan be pretty nasti..."
"We can dooo the Zoo tomorrow. So, if you guys are ready,
shall we frappe la rue? or if you prefer we could just hang out here
and bond with the cosmos. I am one with the carpet. Pinch me."
Pale Yellow Floral Sundress? On Janette? Our Dark Lady of the
Night looked like a poster child for Laura Ashley.
"The time, mes amies, is now! Come along! Let us . . . shop!"
"Hit the decks," muttered one of the male Raven/ettes, under his
breath.
"Okay," said Chanda. "I'd love to go with you to the Cure concert
that's conveniently scheduled just at the end of the FK War."
"I look like a ninja mummy!"
"So what's in this bag anyway?"
"Lots of dead rats and a couple of gallons of fresh blood."
"Why should _I_ be the one doing the digging?"
"Because _I'm_ doing the writing!"
Dianne leaned against the Shillelaigh of If-Not-Death,-Then-What-
Must-Be-Presumed-to-Be-at-Least-Extreme-*Pain*, a thoughtful look on
her face.
Dianne dropped to one knee and tore open the bag. "Grab a handful of
rats and start throwing!"
Cousin Willow galloped into the room, skidded on the rose petals,
bounced off a stray backpack on the floor, and performed a vault off
an unconscious Cousin that made Kerri Strug's gold medal winning
performance a few days before look like a "1".
Lisa leaned over to the right to see what Dianne was pointing at.
Once she saw it, she stayed there unmoving. She looked like a
blinking Leaning Tower of Pisa.
Mel got in her car and popped another Tums.
It had gone on too long. Their depraved plotting had decended into
depths no Merc should know. It was time to take her Guild back from
the Shadow of the pack.
It was time to bring our people *home*.
It baffled her that there were people for whom whiteface Kabuki
makeup was not an essential part of existence.
"I... wanna rock an' roll all night an' party every day!"
(insert appropriate wailing of electric guitars)
"Jamie, you are out of your metal-soaked mind."
"Good, I'll need him, and someone short dressed in an Elmo costume."
"Salt smugglers," Kelly said abruptly.
The reminder was too much for them all. They felt themselves going
into a group flashback. It was not a pretty sight-- if they'd been in
traffic, half of Toronto would have crashed into them.
She loomed as much as a 5'7" grown woman in Batman PJ's can.
"Hello, Lothar's body massage, may we help you?"
"Who the hell are you people?"
"I hate misogynistic men."
"They're probably not too fond of you either."
"Those chains are green," said Jessica, stating the obvious for the
adults who were ignoring it. "Green is a gross color."
"Dotti! Stop going through Nick's underwear drawer this minute! Do you
hear me?"
"The 'Bago didn't get fixed 'cause it wasn't a priority, no one else
gets to drive because I'm in charge of this part of the Strike, and
Lane gets the mustache because he's the fastest, and he grabbed it
first. Happy?"
"No."
"Ow."
"Are we there yet?"
Having talked it over with Dianne, she was pretty sure she could both
fulfill her contract and her duties as General. But it would take some
effort, and some fancy footwork. And there was a strong possibility
that she'd have to cheat at some point.
He thought about going to see Tracy, but he really didn't know what to
say to her. "Thanks for staking me, Babe, but some other chicks
decided to dig me up."
"I-I, um," Sarah swallowed hard and prayed that Vachon wasn't really
that hungry. "I-I u-used i-it."
Tempers flared, names were called. Undignified references to both
animals and ancestry were made....
At first, some thought they were only imagining that glorious and
heavenly anthem, that heavy-metal hymn to the God of Spandex and Big
Hair.
Nancy muttered, "I am not worthy," and fainted.
Pat revived her with a kick to the ribs. "They're fakes, moron."
"Make it stop, make it stop, noooooooooooooooo...."
The damn glass elevator kept stopping. And starting. And now the fire
alarm was going off.
"Aaaah! Can't we get *away* from you people?" Maureen gasped in
shock and anger.
She frowned. Her eyes met Maureen's. Realization hit them both
simultaneously, like a teenager's car hitting a telephone pole.
"Sorry." Dawn was breathing heavily, trying to control the giggles.
"Flashback. You know. Trauma. Feathers. Bad juju."
"Oh, screw that pychiatric wellness crap. She's going to pay." Dawn
smiled grimly, in control of herself again. Okay,
Why couldn't she use her powers for good, for the love of God?
"What are you doing here? And why did you just lock yourself in?"
"Bonka and I _were_ going to be good this War, but Chris's rates were
*so* reasonable... we just couldn't resist."
"You just want to get under Lacroix's skin."
"What a revolting image," Chris grimaced, her eyebrows doing
the Klingon/Vulcan imitation they always did when she was irritated.
Dodge City was never like this. Forty-three hysterical cows charged in
directions which haven't been invented yet as Christina and Jamie
frantically tried to avoid playing tag with hundreds of pounds of
demented hamburger.
"What?" Tigon did her very best guppy imitation, "What?"
"Trust me, you'll be the first person we think of when we say, 'Shoot,
we need a Merc.'"...
"Just as long as you don't say, 'We need to shoot a Merc,' I'm fine."
Peering through the bars, I note that not only do the rats have
Maureen cornered, they appear to be describing their script for Hamlet
to her. Not even Maureen the Traitor deserves that. Besides, the
script the monkeys came up with is better.
*Abby!* Dianne thought loudly. *She did promise a kangaroo court... I
just wish they had used deoderant...*
"It all started with the penguin," Liz said.
The entire courtroom erupted in clapping, yells of encouragement, and
moose cries.
"Interesting." Lacroix said in a dead voice. "Hijackings. Being forced
to wear obscene clothing. Videotapes of me in compromising positions.
Being drugged, hypnotized, HUMILIATED--- Interesting?!?
The WebGoddess sighed, and said to Chris, "He's really glad to see us.
I could tell."
"And get a puppet sidekick."
"Absolutely. For the kids."
"The puppet could read Barbara Taylor Bradford... She's a romance
writer, right? The puppet could read the sex scenes and LaCroix the
gripping, thought-provoking dialogue."
"Fanfic?" Cynthia raked her fingers through her hair and stared at
Jane. "You've only done this in fanfic?"
"No!" Dawn sat up straight in her chair. "I'm not going crazy this
War!"
"Four 'undred big ones." Screed said helpfully. "Plus innerest and
an appypolly loggy."
"A what?"
"*ALL* the socks?" Kira asked.
"Knives? You want me to give you knives?" Lizbet said weakly. The
idea of sharp objects in the hands of a Merc was a little frightening.
It was horrible." Jessica shuddered again. "They even used bright,
shiny colours."
"Now. Let go of my arm before I break your fingers. You may heal
faster than I do, but I bet I can still make you hurt."
"I feel like I'm in an X Files episode." Denise told April. "I just
hope fluke man isn't in this particular sewers."
"Personally," she continued, "I'm thinking scalps."
"Oh God," said Shannon. "Geese. They don't just squawk --
they attack. And there is *no* way to bribe them."
"Trouble rather a tiger in its lair than a lawyer with a really
excellent database."
Tara ran across to the bar, hopped up onto it, then struck a match
across the countertop and grinned. "And it's [ours]," she said
cheerily. Looks like the old dragon's booked and taken his little
maniacs with him."
"OK, it's time for Popular Electronics 101," she announced. Starting
with "Rule One, don't stick your finger in a socket...."
"Geese glop," said the Vaqueras raptly.
"Hey, cut that group-think thing out right now," Torrey
admonished. "No Borgs here.... "
"OK, if I were a two-thousand year old vampire, where would *I* keep
my memorial to my megalomania?" Lizbet mused.
Lizbet and Dawn looked at each other. "The bathroom," they said
together.
"He probably had a dozen of these. Then, you sent busts of yourself to
everyone. Now, people write holiday newsletters. Same thing."
Without even cracking an eye, she listened for a moment. Nope, not
Nick. The boy may snore, but he at least doesn't span three octaves
when he does it.
Courtney looked offended. "I do *not* mosh."
"Spifff's taking a holiday from conciousness. I left her a note and
instructions for the cats to make sure she gets it."
The cats ignored her as well. They were too busy logging into COL
(Cats On-Line).
"I don't know," stated Felix. At Lana's raised eyebrow, he added,
"Truly I do not. The last I heard he was masquerading as an out of
work actor in Santa Barbara."
"Or, dare I say it... a big," her smile got bigger, "thick," she was
smiling so hugely, her eyes were almost screwed shut, "nose ring?"
"You try biking with a frigging colony of bowling balls on your rear
end! What the *heck* have you been eating?" was the growled response.
She screwed her eyes shut and repeated over and over in
her mind *nothing too gory, nothing too gory, nothing too gory*
Kira, having made the unfortunate mistake of watching the Olympic
javelin finals only the day before, eyed the way the GHP was hefting
that shillelaigh and motioned urgently to the defense.
"*Objection!*" Lizbet might not be a Real Life lawyer, but it didn't
take a law degree to _know_ there was something seriously wrong about
having your judge testifying for the prosecution.
"*Failure to Pet a Chinchilla as a Sign of Resignation!"
"Um, on the grounds that it is highly illegal, immoral, and possibly
perverted; the accused was kidnapped and held against her will in a
dungeon; the jury and the defendant are not even the same _species_;
the judge is a power-maddened autocrat who reopened the case after the
verdict was decided, testified for the prosecution, and then refused
to be cross-examined; the charges are without foundation, the
procedure *highly* irregular, and the witnesses _insane_; the charges
do not match the findings, which do not match the verdict, the
sentence, or *any* known version of _reality_...."
"No," Dianne cut her off, not unkindly. "It really wouldn't."
"The washing machine is dead," Kelly intoned.
"Long live the washing machine," Eliz replied.
Under the name and date it read: "Beloved Daughter, Cherished
Friend, and A Good Cop." The Perkulators groaned in unison.
Catherine's nose wrinkled in disgust. "That *is* pretty low,
even for Dianne" the Knightie agreed.
"No Nick, not this time," and then he was gone with the speed of a
truly worthy pan and flash.
The answer came back neatly. "Nina Smith. Direct beneficiary of the
power of repentance, and consequently, reliable if ignorant
Knightie..."
"Junk drawer! Let's see... five years worth of tags for Sydney, three
scrunchies, ticket stubs from 'The Sound of Music', more ticket stubs
from 'The Sound of Music'... hey, fake fangs way in the back. Nat, we
didn't know you had it in you. Some official-type coronor forms --
blank...."
"If you leave any tape in a car or junk drawer long enough, it'll turn
into a Queen tape."
"There is nothing in this apartment that relates to Nick in any way,
shape or form."
"Except maybe the snake," Nina said, looking behind Perri.
Amy D tried to hit her. "Stop doing Ray Vecchio impersonations and get
on your computer."
He left with the satisfaction of a job well done (So he [likes] being
a messenger, surely they can't [all] with dissatisfied!).
"I'm pretty sure that didn't come from me..."
"Muphgr...,*&%$#, *&%^$#, and *&%@#" Answered Torrey
without moving her lips.
"That?" Sherri said as she worked on Vachon. "That would be
Torrey banging her head on the wall."
"The defendant will be violently ill!" Maureen retorted, fending off
her erstwhile lawyer.
"This is *my* court, and you will behave yourself, or I'll hold you in
contempt! We're going to railroad you, and you will sit quietly while
we do so!"
"Did you bring a noose?" Dianne asked eagerly, peering around the
court as if hoping to see a gallows miraculously appear.
"That's a Hare Krishna," Erin blurted out.
"What's the difference?" Ray said. "He's a holy man, isn't he?"
"And bring me ... The Cow."
I stick the postcard into the pocket of my pajamas. I let the pastry
fall, and very slowly squash it into the pavement. Then I take the top
off the drink and pour it on the delivery guy. And take my lighter out
of my other pocket, catch the edge of the Aquarian on fire, and
threaten to burn the guy's eyebrows off.
Then, like two sweepers on a Winter Olympic Curling team, they
made a path through the flock for their fellow Vaquero.
But Bonnie's brain was slowly beginning to function again and she
realized that those lovely, big, brown eyes did not belong to her
German Shepherd. They belonged to... "Vachon!"
"No, we'll pay for it.... VISA! ...What? The Raven *doesn't* take
plastic?!"
Her original plan called for leaving socks adorning feet alone, as
well as socks that smelled of feet. But the challenge of trying to
take socks from owners currently using them appealed to her Merc
instincts.
"Bloody hell, doesn't the man throw *anything* away?!?!?"
She placed the large cardboard box she'd been carrying [I had too been
carrying it all this time!;]....
With that Abby sashayed [It's my story, I can sashay... I just can't
spell] out of the loft and on to her next delivery.
Tigon signed the clip board that appeared out of nowhere (it's made
from the same stuff the Highlander's sword is from).
"I smell a rat."
"Personally, I smell a lot of geese," Charlyne muttered.
"There's a guy wearing an orange sheet in it... oh holy cow,
he's bald -- it's either Screed or a Hare Krishna!"
"I do good blankness," Apache grinned. "A lot of us do."
"Then let's rock. Hare Krishna, Kyrie Eleison, praise the
Lord and pass the ammunition."
"That, my friend is the timeline. Now all we need to do is poke
a hole in it, jump back through."
"You sure you want to go back?" Sherri asked.
Forget embarassment. Forget tiny twinges of guilt. Forget,
even, anger. Jail sucked mostly because it was so damn boring.
Of course, the Cousin's intoxicated leader was actually looking at the
political activist in the next cell, but Chris knew Lisa had been
smirking at her, and just couldn't focus well enough to know which
cell she was in.
Right now she didn't have the energy to keep carving "Ladies: For
Phone-Sex A-Go-Go, call Lucien at 555-CERK" into the wall with the
back of her earring as she'd been doing for the last hour or so.
Soon, LaCroix's bust resembled a miniature jungle more than a
dignified emblem of Imperial might.
"K-I-S-S? What's KISS? Is this an instructional CD? That one guy sure
has got the equipment for it. I don't even think Jen's horse has a
tongue that long..."
"Oh - i think those are... those guys. That band Jamie likes. They're
from a long time ago, remember? Vine Als... 9-tracks... Charlie's
Angels roller skates derbys... H.R. Puff n' Stove Top Stuffing... Syd
and Marty Kraft Macaroni and Cheese... or something like that?"
"And we did *that* for Jamie. I'm going put these discs in the very
back of the van, now, under these spare tires, assorted heavy
blankets, and ready-to-pour concrete."
Take 48:
Will steps from the hiding place, pushes the factory worker/attacker
aside... and in his exhaustion steps [into] another steel beam.
"Has he flipped?" Tok mouthed.
"I don't know," returned Lisa. "With him you can't tell."
"The rest of the Nightcrawler Fan Club's rampaging through downtown
Toronto. The last report we had, they were fighting the riot squad,
the RCMP, and the fire department."
There was more, but neither erica nor bianca heard it. They were
both whimpering on the deck in the fetal position.
Lisa was smiling to herself at the "Adam" on the ducal altarpiece.
Northern European nudes always looked faintly embarrassed. In Nick's
case, rather more than faintly.
Getting sucked into the INTAKE of an air-conditioner can be VERY
disorienting, especially if you get caught up in the fan....
Tigon's expression went from horror and revulsion to just straight
revulsion. "You want me to touch *that*?"
SharonH sat at the table plugging away on The Guy (her
laptop, you dirty-minded people, her *laptop*).
"We're just going to get some pretty-bright-shinies!" Jamie's eyes lit
up, and Dianne sighed quietly. [_Way_ too much time spent around the
Pack.]
"If this isn't an attack, why are you taking the NatMare?"
Dianne winced, feeling like the Grinch faced with Cindy Lou Who.
"Dead bunnies through a *straw*!" Dianne cursed. "*Big* ones!"
"Mmmmh. He'd probably clean up well, kinda wiry ... can I keep
him?"
Reaching in her pocket Starr brought out a .357 magnum brass encased
bullet, shoved it between Karies' teeth. "Thwank u," the grateful
Cousin said.
"Yes, yes, I *was* paying attention when we all went over this the
first time," Bianca huffed.
"Well, i want to make sure everyone else... the three people who
are reading, i mean, are still following along okay," erica shrugged.
"Come to think of it, how about if we try a little experiment in
sublimination? We could plant hidden messages for the listmembers who
are skimming - you think?"
"Now we've got to stay well away from the sea serpents, giant
squid, and Free Willys Chris scrawled in block C-7...."
"Why or why wouldn't this be a fair assumption? And while we're on the
subject of my homework, would someone out there like to tell me how
the declining value of the dollar would affect exports? The number's
555-CROK. i'll now open the phone lines..."
"BACK!" she screamed " Get back, don't make me use this!"
Apache took a step back looked at Torrey...looked at the weapon...
then very calmly stated the obvious. " Torrey...that's a Nerf bat."
"Pardon me, will the blue body closest to the bathroom check to see if
my glasses are in there?"
"This is ridiculous," said Sharon angrily. "That weaselly little dead
man! I'd like to chain him to his floor and open the blinds. I bet
he's also the one responsible for Maureen. That blood-bloated wretch."
"I've got some money under my pillow," offered Leslie. "I counted it
last night. There's about 67 dollars. Take 15. That's about half. You
should have enough."
"Leslie, do you know what you just said? Fifteen is not half of
sixty-seven."
"OK, you can take all of it," replied Leslie, exasperated.
"Eewwww!" they all said in unison. "I'm not pulling it out, you do
it!" "Not me!" "Uh-uh!" "I *hate* needles!"
The other three started bouncing along with their friend, then they
all started for the door. The Merc, bemused by the experience that is
the Natpack, followed them as they bounced out the door.
When they got to the top of the stairs, Maureen stopped suddenly and
tried to back up. Betsy said "Ow!" as Maureen stepped on her toes,
Jill said "Damn!" as Betsy's elbow caught her under the chin, and
Kelly said "Eep!" as Jill almost knocked her off the step. Erin just
stepped down a step and waited for the Packlet to come to a stop.
Maureen didn't even pause. "To a beauty parlor! I will *not* go blond
into that good night!!"
"But she's sleeping," Ann reminded her stalwart leader.
"I don't care if she's dead, go get her."
"Who's things throwing me DIE?" she yelled somewhat incoherently.
"Oh, hell," she swore quietly. "Attacked by teddy bears. Lovely."
"I'd settle for any clothes," Mei grumbled. All this money, and the
only thing that she had to wear was a silver airline peanut bag. And a
cellular phone. Maybe if she draped the cord of the phone
suggestively...
Miklos stared in horror at the woman plastering herself against the
other side of the glass. He remembered the last time she had been in
Toronto. They called it a war. He called it something to avoid if at
all possible.
"What's wrong?" she questioned
"Someone's at the door," responded Kelly
"Looks like a fair."
"Or an orgy in the making," someone else added.
"I declare Dianne DeSha to be the Separated at Birth NatPacker,"
Jennie intoned solemnly. Amy and GT nodded in agreement.
In another couple of days, I'm going to build a little book fortress
around them and pass food and water in between Martin Chuzzlewit and
whatever the heck Jasmine's working on--I dunno, but I touched one of
her books and it gave me hives."
"Wouldn't you be alright if you had a well-tanned volleyball-playing
love slave?
She thought that LaCroix had the edge, but that probably was because
he must have used boot black on his eyebrows. They looked like fuzzy
caterpillars that had crawled there and died.
Diane hunched over Amy's shoulder and watched the video game that she
was frantically playing. She squinted and then blinked as she realized that
Natalie was performing what could only be described (on-list) as a "John
Wayne Bobbitt" on Nick. Each time the Natpack roared in laughter.
"Again. Do it again."
..." You've got to keep your hopes up, Kermie..." Dr. Natalie Hambert
said as she continued to autopsy the dead hen laying before her.
It would be putting it mildly to say that Lisa was a little distressed
at having Screed's arm around her.... Of course, the smell paled in
comparison to what he was suggesting. As a matter of fact, the more
she thought about it, the greener she got.
"You're insane, you all are. Mortals with undying loyalty to
someone who would just as soon make you a snack."
"Alma, you went from Julie Brown to Kim Novak. That's not a
little change, that's a metamorphosis worthy of Ovid."
"I think I'm having a brain hemorrhage."
"Bakka." Tami supplied.
"Did you just call me an idiot in Japanese?"
"Ooooooo, yummy man *not* go bye-bye!" she gasped quietly.
"Eyew! I hate it when she looks at him like that. I mean as far as
she knows he's a corpse for God's. Yuck."
I still think the lurkers had the best idea of what was written in the
damned card.
"It's not that bad," said Sarah. "He's more tan than LaCroix ever
could dream of. Even with bronzing gel."
"Yeah," concurred Lana. "And his eyebrows are several shades
lighter."
Down they swept, slipping and sliding, as Screed and the kangaroos
tapped their feet in time and sang along. "Ya-Ya polka!"
Chris blinked at the woman paying her bail ticket. "You're not Dianne
la Mercenaire."
"Not even on my bad days."
"Wow, I heard that Nick posed in the nude, but I didn't expect this.
Boy, does he have a nice... "
"Just so long as you leave the cord on, it won't leak ickies on
Nick. I'd appreciate it if you'd let him know that."
"If you take my head, there are those who will take revenge for me!"
Nick shouted suddenly, as the conversation seemed to be drifting away
from him.
"Iceberg?" Kathy queried. "Suze, don't be ridiculous. This is Lake
Ontario, it's August. There are no icebergs around here."
"Everything will be all right, you're just having a Forever Knight
delusion, it happens to us all."
Ok, Susan, so sue me! I always loved that title -- parody is a form of
attack which is a form of affection, right? :)
Nat smiled beatifically. "You bet your ass and raise you one boob I
am. Come on, everybody, it's just a dream -- let's party."
"Oof!" Tracy said as she landed - yet again - on her perky little ass.
"To all those who think they know how to have a War, but actually have
less of a clew than a pink-striped wombat: Everyone but me!" said
another voice.
"No, no. Not the fancy ones, this is for my barracuda. I just need a
bag of the ten-for-a-loony feeder goldfish...."
Spifff responded somewhat sarcastically as she hung up. Somewhere the
judges had just awarded her stomach a 9.87 and the gold metal.
"Aaah. Nirvana, I am becoming one with the bean."
"Yeah, it's swill, but it's *highly-caffeinated* swill-- and that's
what matters."
"Does Nick have a hose, or what?" repeated Susan.
"Is this an obscene phone call?" asked Perri, somewhat harshly.
Well, they [were] Knighties . . . .
Place: [The Cursed Apartment]
Catherine now had small plastic mobile blocks stuck all over her body,
and a felt beenie over her hair.
For a brief moment, she felt sorry for the poor guy. It wasn't his
fault that he wasn't as glorious, dignified, handsome, intelligent
(... is that enough Cherri? I'm running out of things to make up. --
ed.) a personage as the General.
"And in this bit you and Nat fly to Rio, leaving Nicholas to spend
eternity locked in the toy factory with Tracy--"
Suddenly, the room started to tremble, pictures rattling on the walls
and dishes clattering in the kitchen. A loud and resonant voice seemed
to come from the walls, with the words echoing around the room and
through their bodies.
"THERE WILL BE A TWENTY-FOUR HOUR CEASE FIRE
COMMENCING AT 10. O'CLOCK"
It stopped for a minute before adding an addition.
"and that's eastern standard time, of course."
"Defecate?" shouted Maureen above the pounding music. "Why
shouldn't they get to defecate whenever they want? That's just
the..."
"Two words," he said. "Perky Cousin."
"What?" Okay, so she wasn't really a in a mood to be polite. She had
cousins to kill.
Susan wished for something more sustantial between herself and the
rest of the Raven. Like a concrete wall.
"Would you like me to get a dictionary and define 'forever' for you?"
..."Yeah, you'll find it right under 'foreplay'."
"AAARRGGGHHHHH!" The Banshee Squeak of Rage wasn't quite
comperable to Valerie's howl, but it was enugh to make Susan blink in
pain, without letting go of the hose.
Jennie smiled happily. "You can't drown anyone on dry land. We tried."
"Natalie!" he shouted in midair over a rotweiller.
"Me? I'm just the one who loves you. Now he, he is the one who
wanted to make you an after-dinner mint."
"It's okay," Nick replied sunnily, this tux is made out of miracle
cloth. It will dry in the time it takes to go to commercial break.
You know, I've even been shot in this coat, and look, no holes!"
Not my post, not my responcibility, not my fault. :)
Tigon tried...really TRIED...to become one with the wall.
"With only one heartbeat every 10 minutes, doesn't it take a long
time?"
"'My precious darling,' the young man responds, 'you are my guiding
light, my touchstone. Without your shining presence, I would be lost
in my sea of dark depravity. Only your love can save me, though I am
not worth the dirt your foot rests upon.'"
"...My word, the fellow seems to have quite a problem with his
self-image."
I really don't need to hold a conversation with thin air in front of
that many people *who know me*."
"That does it!" Betsy plopped down on the sidewalk. "I refuse to budge
another inch. I'm obviously a raving lunatic, so there really isn't
any point." The passersby seemed inclined to agree...
"You did NOT!" Lisa replied with total insistence.
"I did TO hire you to cut Vachon's hair!" Bonnie asserted. "Ah
ha!" Lisa said, her voice full of triumph. "I knew it."
"Oops. Damn," Bonnie swore under her breath.
Time: The moment before you opened this message
Place: Another dimension, beyond time, space and the I.R.S.
"Here," Rastro handed over the bag, then a thought hit her, it hurt
but she was very brave. "I've a clever idea."
The smell of the vegemite hit the room like a 18 wheeler going back
and forth over a Care Bear until the guts squished out and the crows
made out like women at a can of frosting.
It was now once again an ordinary jar filled with something that
greatly resembled Vaseline made of wet puppy chow.
"Peter, Mike, Mickey and Davey," LaCroix repeated, realization
washed over him with a sickening sensation. "We're going to be the
Monkees!"
"Monkeys?" said Janette. "I am NOT a monkey!"
"You'd better get the big jar of vegemite and the tesserect. You know
how pissy LaCroix gets at the end of these things."
"Yes, you vill," Tracey said as menacingly as she could muster which
was about as menacing as a Care Bear with rabies.
He wondered if they'd let him keep it. Then he decided that the
polyester cling and the omnipresent scent of vegemite was affecting
his brain, and that Plan A - Kill the Lurkers, was definitely the way
to go.
Maureen let out a howl of anguish. "Here am I before the mighty
Skinner, and I have no Thin Mints to offer Him!"
(Note: as this is a hallucination, Walter S. Skinner, Assistant
Director of the FBI, is permitted to appear. On that note, there is a
[lovely] little hallucination involving Jill Kirby, Methos, [and]
Duncan... which will just have to be sent to JADFE, as this is a
[family] list.)
HOPPY BUNNIES TO EWE, HIPPIE BENNYS IN GOO, HEPTA-
HERRINGS TO YOU, HYPER BEAGLES ARE BLUE.
"I guarantee the NatPack on a righteous rampage can do a lot worse to
you than even *you* think you deserve."
...if we don't do something about her soon, Urs will end up more
mindless than Alma."
"That's not possible," Dawn stated, sipping her drink. "Nature
abhors an absolute vacuum."
"She needs a life."
"She needs a purpose."
"She needs a haircut," Felicia muttered...
Jamie was feeding the Merc Cats George and Ramona, because they
were complaining loudly that no one, *no one*, not anyone in the
entire War had fed them---something she suspected of being a complete
lie...
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god oh my god ohmygod
aaaaAAAHHHH!!"
"I never lie. I just exaggerated and left some stuff out,"
In a highly-overused plot device, she pulled the printout from her
pocket and read the short message again:...
Lizbet would be pleased. Lizbet's employer would be pleased. And Ma
would get her Pepsi and lavender peeps.
"I need help."
"Obviously," said the receptionist brightly. "But we don't
treat
group personality disorders here."
Having heard of Chris' earlier adventure with 'Dee'-- and
Dianne's flat refusal to acknowledge it had ever happened-- Abby
knew one of two things were going on-- Either the Grand High Poohbah
of the Merc Guild was involved in something so important, so secret, so
vital to the security, nay *existence*!, of her affiliation and of the War as a
whole that she was sacrificing her own dignity, pride, reputation, and
fashion sense in a noble, lonely gesture of intense self-sacrifice...
...or Dianne had just completely lost her mind.
Knowing her Poohbah as she did, Abby was willing to bet
rather highly on the latter.
"Am I speaking to 'Dee' now," she asked in her best movie-of-the-
week, stall-'em-until-back-up-arrives-or- until-they-confess-to-some-
terrible-crime-and-jump-off-the-handy-nearby-ledge-'cuz-there's-only-
five-more-minutes-of-show-left-and-we've-got-to-wrap-this-up-*fast*
voice.
Catherine and Perri sat, entranced. Not really by her story, but by
the fact that she could suck down three full glasses of beer while she
was talking. The girl had a *gift*.
Perri and Catherine glanced at each other. Lisa. Great. That
narrows it down to only half the list. Thanks, Dianne.
"Like, for sure, dude!"
"Don't go there, Perri."
"Right."
And over this decidedly racy (by Victorian standards) image was
inscribed, in vivid white ink, "To Screed-- Hugs and kisses, Jennie".
"There are green ones, there are pink ones, there are blue ones, there
are yellow ones, and they're all made out of cotton-poly, and they all
look just the same."
Does anybody else find a t-shirt that says 'Coroners do it Better'
just a tad unnerving?"
"You know, every single one of them has a picture of Walter Skinner in
a heart-shaped frame tucked somewhere in their luggage. Do we want to
*know* about their personal lives?"
Cherri crawled on the floor and hooked on to Vachon's leg.
"Don't leave me Vachon. I love you! Don't leave me."
Kristina picked up her notebook and popped her historian friend over
the head. "Thanks," Lizbet said.
Vachon gave an opinion on scholarship that was short, succinct, and
thankfully in Spanish. "Or was that Basque?" Lizbet asked Kristina,
who grunted and kept scribbling notes.
"'Your mother is a cabbage,'" Lizbet read
Vachon blinked. "'My mother is a cabbage?'"
*Warning: Excessive use of Val Speak and Music. Danger Will
Robinson! Danger!* Special thanks to Chris for the soap.
"Curse you, Andre! You leave me no choice but to push you off this
convenient cliff!" "aiiiiiiiiii........."
Jamie suddenly pulled back. "No. No. Not the NatBorg. They'll
assimilate me. I want my MercMommy!"
Partly idly wondered if she should try to have the NatPack's water
tested.
Shrugging, Tigon replied, "I don't know. This is Lizbet's baby... she
said she just wanted us for a show of force."
"Well, if she keeps hiding behind that tree, we're going to run
out of night," observed Steve.
Laughing, Maryann said, "Yeah, I've seen her luck in action myself
when I first met her in L.A. at the Weekend With-the-Actor-Whose-
Name-Can't-Be-Used-Here-Lest-Lawyers-Pitch-Fits."
Lizbet smiled, "If she dies, I get The Jacket."
Then he noticed Lizbet, "Are you sure you haven't been paid to inflict
your friend on me? I cannot fathom the way her mind leaps from subject
to subject. We've discussed Latin, philosophy, ancient art, and
whether or not Sam made the final Leap home! Now she wants to know why
the Welsh language doesn't have any participles."
"I, uh, I was possessed by, uh, aliens, " she muttered as she
began to edge around Nick toward the stairs at the loft's end.
"Sure. I 'member." Lane fixed the tiara a little crookedly in his
hair, and waved the wand. He giggled. "Spell 'R Us. You choose 'em,
we zap em."
A very hungry and wet ancient vampire is not a pretty sight.
"Where shall I go? What shall I do?" \\And why do I sound like
Scarlett O'Hara at the end of 'Gone With The Wind'?\\...
Sets: The Apartment of the Darned
...her face as happy and nonchalant as if it were an Etch-a-Sketch
that had just been shaken clean.
Lizbet leaned over to Tigon and whispered, "See? I told you no
Roman would say weeni, weedi, weeci."
"Maybe we should glue Cherri inside a REAL cow!" Sandra muttered
distractedly.
"Warehouse! Everyone KNOWS there's only one warehouse in
Toronto!" Dotti declared.
"You ever thought of trying to control your dreams?" Dawn screamed.
"Ugh! Eee! Yow-yow-yow!!!"
Then it dropped to an almost-whisper that was even more ominous.
"If I've been *bounced*, I'll have all your heads!"
"It's an August birthday thing," the creature told her. "We've all
got one," and she gestured toward Susan Garrett, who was also suddenly
and inexplicably wearing a Cat In The Hat hat and looking more than a
little distressed about it.
Partly groaned. She had thought the last war was hard to follow. In
this one, the people who were dead were the only ones around.
She resisted the urge to wriggle like a puppy (Pull yourself together!
Sharon and Jill would be horrified!).
Lifting her had she knocked on the door.... hoping... no... praying
that who ever opened it would not perky her to death.
Lynn Messing put down her copy of a fan fiction story she was reading
(was it "Physical Therapy"? Could be...)...
Marg had up until this time had been looking rather innocent knitting
socks while sitting in the famous chair that Nick had apparently
dragged through several centuries of flashbacks, a number of dream
sequences, and a virtual reality game.
Roses are red,
I love them the most.
Whoever did this,
If I catch you you're toast!
"I am the ghost of FK past."
"That's nice, bye."
I'm in it for one thing. The chocolate and the covert ops. Er, two
things. The chocolate, the covert ops, and the glory. Er, well, we
both know where that was leading, so let's not.
The MMG grabbed one of her sodas from the fridge (all carefully
labelled "Mine! Mine! MINE!" to keep her cohorts from snitching
them)
"Gone? As in KIDNAPPED? As in what she *hired* me to
PREVENT?"
"Uh, yeah," Abby confirmed, looking guiltily from Dianne to
Christina and back again. "Guess you made bail, hunh?"
Dianne was glaring down at Chris, slapping the Shillelagh of
EP(TM) in her hand to a Carribean, voodoo-drums kind of beat.
"Deliver the ransom. Aaaaagggh. I can't believe I just said that..."
"*You're* Her Perkiness? Oiy. Well I'm Candice, Cousin Candice. It
was a pleasure attacking you. Bye!"
"That's Anthony, Amy, Albert, Alfonzo, Anna, Andrea, Alexander and
Alexandra, they're twins, and that Antonio, Addy, Agatha ..." John
said in rapid suscesion as he pointed to various little critters.
The arrests had been very orderly and pleasant once Bianca and erica
lost consciousness.
"They're camping in Africa miles away from a phone. And they're very
elderly and hard of hearing, especially after that time they crossed
the Amazon in South America and guppies swam into their ears," Bianca
added, before erica could discreetly pinch her.
"I suppose we should [muaffhhh] sshekk bac nntoo CRRK pwutty
sooon, huh, Bwud?"
"Bianca, you hog, don't [sluuuurp] eet wib yo moww - ow! cohd! -
wib yo mowf fuull... Yeh, aee suhpo so."
"Okay," John replied happily and resumed, "that's Barbara, Barry,
Bartholomew, Beetlejuice, Bob and Bob and Bob, Bill, Betty, Boopster
..."
"Remember, everyone, be PERKY." It was, she had decided, the best
defense they had.
She smiled at Partly. "You Partly?"
"Partly sane," Robin muttered from behind them.
"Hey, annoying the Cousins is a good thing in and of itself," Perri
cracked.
[The rest of this scene is being cut out of consideration to those
listmembers who may have diabetes or other sugar intolerence
disorders. We now return to your regularly scheduled war, already in
progress. -- The Management]
John just kept pointing out and introducing his little rat friends.
"Cathy, Christie, Charles, Chucky, Christopher, Callie, Crystal,
Chester ..."
All I found were --" he paused, confusion in his eyes. "--
cookie crumbs. Mint cookie crumbs, everywhere."
There was something resembling a joint 'Awwww' from most of the
Knighties.
We invite you all to come and enjoy our new web site. I am sure
that you will all find it insightful and entertaining.
"http://users.lanminds.com/~callalily/cherri.html"
Javier moved with vampire speed but unfortunately it wasn't quick
enough. The Spaniard found himself covered with bright pink Silly
String.
[Blink]
[Blink]
WAR: Putting the FUN back in FUNeral (1/1)
"Now remember," she admonished. "We are a grieving
family. Act like one.'
"Our Uncle died," Robin spoke up quickly. Stifled laughter, barely
covered by fits of coughing, filled the room. Partly was sure this
was a Bad Thing.
"Oh my God." Robin spoke for them all. "Even Elvis wouldn't be
caught dead here."
Hurrying to keep from falling behind, John called out even faster,
"Darryl, Doug, Dorothy, Dagmar, Dogbert, Deborah ..."
Lisa indicated the Shillelagh that once more leaned next to the
fireplace, just in case any suicidal vampires dropped in for a visit.
"It's just a leather & lace lingerie boutique. Lane, for profit's
sake---"
"Repeat, I am _not_ going in there." Lane folded his arms across
his chest. "I know what happens to guys in Toronto who even think
about going in those places. Nick. Lacroix. They ended up wearing the
merchandise. Thanks, but I'll wait out here so we'll have a quick
getaway."
Dianne grimaced. "Abby, this is War. We passed the normal
definition of weird five days ago. Jamie, are you in there?"
"IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" she screamed, throwing herself at the
chainlink fence and frightening the... um... well, some more 'glop'
[g] out of the geese.
"That's Electra, Egor, and Elton." Beginning to point to the rats
surrounding them, he said, "That's Frank, Freda, Francine, Francesca,
Fred, Fluffernutter, Farfagnugan, Frankenfurter ..."
Somewhere, in the very back reaches of her consciousness, a rational,
sane voice had been screaming to be heard. It didn't stand a chance
against the sight of Vachon in black spandex.
"Uh, really, we're more like flunkies, eh Leslie? Yeah, we're just
flunkies."
"I know," he finished for her, with a poke in her side. "It hurts you
more than it hurts me, right?"
Perri laughed. "No, actually, it generally hurts you lots more
than us. That's kinda the point."
Bonnie narrowed her eyes at the woman. \\Well, this confirms it.
Mercs are just strange people.\\
'Men Smart, Women Smarter' (Barry Manilow), 'Cumberland Blues'
(Nana Mouskouri), 'Touch of Gray' (Germaine Jackson), 'Brown-Eyed
Woman', inst. (Zamphr, Master of the Pan Flute), 'He's Gone' (Helen
Reddy), 'Truckin' (Bee Gees), 'Friend of the Devil' (Debbie Boone).
"Sick. That what this is -- just plain sick!"
"Where's the Plot Device from Hell?'"
Perri growled before anyone could say anything.
"Does he always catalogue the wine in a G-string?"
"I guess I can't argue, if they're going to write themselves that
way..."
Cath's mouth twitched up. "I have a hunch those dogs are gonna go
straight for the bedroom."
"Don't go there, Cath."
[Place: In and around Toronto Trek ... geography and architectural
details by Made-M-Up Enterprises, a Division of Poetic License,
Ltd.... coincidental timing by the well-known team of Blind Luck and
Happy Fate [g]]
And when Nick came through the door, she dropped the brick
squarely on his head.
He fell to the ground with a quite satisfying *thud*.
"Must have crackers!" the diminutive merc repeated over and over.
Lizbet tried to steal one of Berg's, only to have her nose honked.
Dianne admired the Irish club, "I have one myself."
"Doesn't everybody?" Tigon puzzled.
"I don't care what anybody says," she said, "I think Screed sounds
more like Flanders on 'The Simpsons' than Malcolm McDowell in 'A
Clockwork Orange.'
To: mercs@forsale.com
Chanda turned around to see an electric blue eel grab her arm.
An eel? She didn't know any eels!
"Sweet vampire. Sweet sweet vampire wanna play with me? Bet you
wanna play."
"AAAAHHHH!!!"
"If anyone tries to disturb me...EAT THEM."
"Speaking of the human condition, did you guys know we could've
improved on our personalities before arriving in Toronto?"
"No way?"
"Way!"
"Darn! Is it too late?"
Parked on the street just outside the station was a black Jaguar
sports car with the license plate "DIVS DAD," a plate frame which
read, "I survived Pompeii," and an "I brake for the CERK Cow" bumper
sticker.
When LaCroix's voice held that tone, his followers either liquified
into puddles of bliss, or jumped to try and accomplish his wishes as
quickly as possible -- sometimes they tried to do both.
Flight after flight of stairs passed by in a fictionally quick blur.
They had to do something about the situation! For a brief millisecond,
they considered that [doing] something about the situation might get
them into even worse trouble than they were already in. Fortunately
for part 2/2 of this little story, they both rejected that thought as
totally unworthy of them.
"are you thinking what i'm thinking?"
"That we should call up all the Urchin sympathisers, concoct a
wildly insane plan to revive Urs, and then get her into safety?"
They were strong! They were mighty! They were... not really an
official faction.
(Hey! I conquered Myst! I can find a silly secret panel!)
Then with a sigh, LaCroix concentrated on the present. Bad things
seemed to happen to him when he had long flashbacks during wartime.
It was messy, it was time-consuming, and it was hard to figure out
where to put the needle, but finally it was done.
"It has to be the NatBorg."
[deatley-deat] [deatley-deat] [deatley-deat]
"She looks so cute, like a little kid wanting a glass of water," Carla
awed.
"Someone call Gillian," Perri muttered. "We need better dialogue."
"Believe me, Nick," Perri grunted, "This *is* going to hurt us more
than it'll hurt you!" Before she finished, Nick disappeared under the
famed Knightie Puppy Pile.
"Dammit, it's the middle fo the night and a break-in would just take
too long," Catherine finally said.
Cath sighed and upended the bottle over his mouth before he could say
anything else. "Shut up and make your medicine like a good boy,
Nickie. Your head is safe with us."
"Yeah, it's the rest of your body that we want," Dottie cracked.
"Someone *is* going to explain, aren't they?"
"Better," Cath growled. "Someone's going to *pay*."
"Now we re-decorate the Raven ... again."
The smear of color that was Sharon got very quiet and seemed to be
lost in thought.
Toronto Globe and Mail, Monday, July 29, 1996, Section B, Page 1:
KISS impersonators fill Toronto ERs...
The next few minutes were filled with obsenities. Most of them Dawn
hadn't even realized that she'd known. They covered four languages,
and numerous bodily conditions.
Timeline clashes were all successfully avoided due to the vaque and
unspecific nature of this post.
Laughing, eating and throwing socks all at the same time is not to be
encouraged.
There was some fighting over who got to use the Heimlich
manuever, but Christina managed to recover by herself before any final
decision was made.
Dawn decided to put off telling Lana in the hope of avoiding
backposting a story.
And thus we end this somewhat incoherent post, that was planned,
half-done, stopped, ignored, restarted, re-ignored, and then posted in
a fit of "why not! If Catherine Boone (oh WarMistss) can post stuff
from War 5, then I can post this!" mood.
Crossing to the elevator, she pressed the call button, and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited. (Hey, I have to make this post long enough so Dawn
will get back from filming her documentary!!!)
LaCroix considered her for several long moments. Then he smiled
again. "Translate it into Latin."
"Gracia plena," Lizbet said, stuck in Latin mode. "Uh, diolch y fawr?
Merci?" She struck herself smartly on the forehead. "THANK YOU!"
She stopped so fast that Robin ran into her. "Signal next time, will
you?"
"Partly, my faithful follower. Tell Vachon I love him." She
collapsed dramatically again.
The past few days had been utterly insane. Socks, busts, rats,
delusional women/Cousins/vampires, ducking Dianne who wanted dues and
Sara who wanted rent, facing LaCroix angry and the persistent longing
for crackers was pushing Lizbet to the edge of her precarious sanity.
"Laura-there's-a-woman-without-a-top-out-here-and-she-is-really-
scaring-me! Let me in!"
"It has a happy ending, a wedding, a funeral, and that Scott guy."
"So he's just a jerk."
"Basically, yeah."
"Sort of like Lacroix."
"Hmmm..."
"Aren't there any swordfights in this play? Action sequences?
Anything?"
"Poetry, true love, guys in tights... it's almost as good as THE
PRINCESS BRIDE."
"Oh, Mercs. I should've known. *You* don't look so murky, though,"
"I think I like Don Pedro better... he's still single at the end of
the play, right?"
"Yes, but he's MINE," Lizbet said threateningly,
"Kill Claudio." Lane raised his eyebrows. High maintenance
women were a pain. But he had to admit that Claudio had it coming.
"Oh, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the marketplace!"
... "Now *there's* something interesting to suggest to Sharon."
She shivered in revulsion. But no one could see her shiver because,
she like the rest of of them, was just a large pink lump on Susan's
lawn.
"She's worried about the bubble making parts!" John said in a
disgusted tone of voice.
"They did seem to enjoy the thought of a hot tub full of tomato
juice," Arletta said, suppressing a giggle.
Stephanie stood and announced solemnly, "All hail to Her Invincible
HTML Highness of the Cow Shrine. All phantoms beware." The Vaqueras
touched their heads to their sleeping bags in unison, uttering the
single sacred syllable ..."Moo."
" Get the tape." Torrey growled to Apache through clenched teeth.
A slow tear trickled from the corner of her eye as she remembered the
friendly, reassuring bulk of the Natmare.
Her hair was just a shade lighter than the frames of her glasses,
which were a translucent version of the brilliant orange of the
missing Natmares. When the light shone through the frames it was like
having one of the Natmares hovering just out of sight, watching over
her like some sort of guardian angel.
Cynthia took a deep breath for her partner. She still hadn't figured
out how Jane did that without breathing.
"Quick? Cheap? Easy? These are things we want?" the vampire
asked curiously. There was, after all, a first time for everything.
(You didn't know vampires could splutter, did you? Well, not one of
them ever has before, but Cynthia's writing this story.)
"They may be Mercenaries, but I doubt they'd sell flowers infested
with aphids," Charlyne said trying to keep a straight face.
"Yeah, he wasted his time translating garbage," Don stated.
"And the Mercs stole our socks!" Toby put in.
"Methos is nice, but Duncan is my hunk-a-burnin' love." All the
pillows from the couch were launched at her head.
"It's... it's Methos!" Cherri gasped.
"Can't be. Crossovers aren't allowed. It's Peter Wingfield," Dawn
said.
"It's neither," Chris said. "It's the actor who played Don Pedro!"
Tigon made an odd little "erk" sound and slapped her arm over her
eyes. Unfortunately, she used her left arm, the one with the cast.
She beaned herself nicely and fell over backwards.
They almost had all the bottles filled and corked when there came an
eerie sound through the air. "Ooooo. OOooooo."
The Knighties looked on with such a look of horror, well you have
never seen such a horrified group of Knighties in your life.
"Merc Central: You pick 'em, we kick 'em!
Christina paused. "*What* did you say?
'As if' what? Dianne? Yo, Dianne! What's wrong? *Dianne*....?"
But the line was dead. This was a Bad Sign.
"Oh. My. God. Dee?!? It's Kiki! Don't you remember me?"
"I already *have* killer boobs, Dee. Duh!"
"Vachon is not hot. Vachon is kewl. Nick is hot."
"Whoah! Are you *feeling* all right? Nick is sooooooo bogus. The
UnDead Klewless Boy Wonder. Batboy in Therapy. I'm sure!"
"I did *not* need to know that, Kiki. Waaaaay too much information."
...her mind sorting through memories for the location of the nearest
intensive psychiatric care unit that took the MercCare[tm] health
plan....
]From inside the package crawled a big, black, fuzzy caterpillar. It
had a small plastic tag attached, that said "Right Eyebrow". A small
horde of caterpillars followed, each with their own tag saying "Right
Eyebrow" or "Left Eyebrow".
"Well, would *you* want to admit to a name like 'Bunny'?"
-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+
[oooooooowhooooooooowhoooooooowhooooooo [--insert creepy
music here [o.k. so I'm not Fred... so *shoot* me!] [g]
-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+-+*+
"There. Gary and Rick. The Stunt Double Wetmores."
"Wait," Sylvester cried. "How are we to get back to Santa Barbara?"
Unfortunately, you can't pilot a glider and eat crackers at the same
time. Bummer. I love crackers, although I'm not sure why.
"Boom-Boom, Boom-Boom, come in Boom-Boom, this is Knightie
Central."
"... :-) :-)" The smiley faces were clearly evident in his tone of
voice.
"You're not in this War, and if you say anything more it just might
violate list rules." Allie looked very serious. "Violating list
rules can get you in biiiiiiig trouble."
Rosemund shrieked again in horror and spat at Tigon, "You *are* a
creature of darkness!"
"Did I say I wasn't?" Tigon asked mildly.
Jane gestured at the bar. "He's over there, with Sandra."
"And Nick. And LaCroix," Cynthia observed with some surprise.
"Now *there's* a Kodak moment."
This Toronto was obviously an interdimensional nexus for eerie
coincidences; that was the only plausible explanation.
"Done. All done. Need FK. Need to watch Nick and Nat. Help!"
"Urs! Do you know if LaCroix has a Karaoke machine?"
Before the performers knew it, the music started to play loudly. And
it was "YMCA" by the Village People. Tigon let out a shriek of horror...
Normally, the people who came to visit the inside of her head were
relatively quiet, polite, usually reasonable...
Luckily she had been on her way to visit Nat when the doctor left the
Natcave.
'Either he doesn't cook much himself, or he has the brains of a flea.'
Meredith thought, 'Oh well, at least he's gorgeous.'
"I'm sorry. I'm Kathy."
"Wow! You really like playing fast and loose with your life, don't
you?"
"Well, we *could* send them a postcard..."
"If certain members of this crew get drunk enough, there's no telling
what'll happen. It's been that kind of war."
Perri looked around her, mystified. "Where did you all come from?"
"We've got more important things to do."
"Amen. Let's fight."
"They're plotting," a Merc decided. "The overthrow of USA Network, I
bet."
Tara's eyes widened. She took a step closer and asked, "Is this
something illegal, immoral, or fattening? And, if it's any of the
above, can I play, too?"
She stepped back from the car, checked for signs of life just in case
it [was] a carouche, then decided to follow the basic agenda she'd
come up with from having used her meticulously constructed three-D
computer model of a certain yeah-you-got-it.
She'd only promised to wash the car, she hadn't said a damned thing
about not breaking Nick's shock absorbers into teeny pieces. [And]
she got to sing while she did it.
...the Knighties seemed to have removed most other incriminating or
interesting evidence . . . shucky darns.
"Can one wash what isn't there?" growled LaCroix. "An interesting Zen
question."
Sherri hit LaCroix with the broom. "Let go of her!"
There were several who debated the benefits, and the disadvantages of
having the various vampires in the room.
Miraculous, all but one rack of glasses above the bar had survived the
assault, as well as most of those in use throughout the club. Just in
case, though, Valerie was safely hustled offstage.
Will nodded and pointed downward with his nose (which had a small,
fanged smiley face stuck on it)...
Then there was a Skinner (SO out of place, I think so, yes), and there
was a conga line in the Raven.
Nick looked embarrassed. "Those are, ah, the bank books I lost
before."
"Du-ude," Perri and Cath finally said in unison, managing to close
their mouths. "Too cool!"
Nick braced himself, and managed not to fall out of his chair when the
crusade of grateful, squealing Knighties decended on him.
"Officers, we caught this woman cheating at cards. I want her
arrested for breaking the law."
The best revenge is revenge.
Now we're even.
Have a nice day.
A Weeble. Dianne frowned. That reminded her of something. Now,
what was it?
Takes place whenever the hell we want it to. Now piss off.
(Diane... Diane! Put down the chainsaw! :) It's... uhh... Thursday
sunset to sunrise.)
She leaned down and whispered in Perri's ear. "Perri. I have the
keys. I have my wallet. And I know how to drive a stick."
"Why do I have to decide?"
"Because I'm *driving*. I'm already contributing brainpower. Now
it's your turn."
"It's magic."
"Fate."
"Phallic."
"Very."
"We're there, baby." Catherine accelerated, and the two sped off
as the CN Tower rose like (don't go there, Cath) in the distance.
"What view? It's ten o'clock, Perri. If I wanted to watch little
lights flicker, I'd have stayed home and played with the refrigerator
bulb."
"No, I meant sick, even for *you*."
The car screeched to a halt, and Catherine was well glad she'd
constricted her movement, or she'd be Nick's new hood ornament by now.
"Gotta love wars. Everyone seems to get a one-track mind."
"Let me know when you find it, and I'll derail with you." Catherine
grinned, and busily went to playing worm with her straw wrapper.
"I'm too caffeinated to sleep."
"I can't believe you can even say 'scintillating' this late at night."
"We have on Exhibit 'B', photos of the riverbank, those that lurk in
your subconsciousnesses sucking at the truth. Well Vaqueros, the time
of judgement is upon you!!"
Jill rolled her eyes. "Oh, hell, I feel a group hug coming on."
"Goodnight, all. Don't do anything that I wouldn't do... which
leaves you plenty of room."
"I need [two,]" Maureen said, propelling Jill back into the Raven.
"We're not [nearly] drunk enough to deal with the end of a War."
Then glancing at Mo's beernut pattern, she asked, "Do nuts stink when
they burn?"
...she took a deep breath and said, "I'm a Mercenary Cousin and I
haven't met you yet or anything and I know that you don't know me or
anything but I really wanted to met you and I had someone procure a
specific book for me because I really thought you might like it and I
wanted to give it to you in person at first I was going to just leave
it in your room but I figured you might get a wee bit upset if you
found out that someone broke into your room and I didn't want you to
be upset and ..."
"STOP!" LaCroix snapped.
The Die-Hards just stood there and watched most of their socks go up
in flame.
As Nat and Nick both took a moment to look over the pages, they
became visably embarassed. Kevin leaned over and whispered to Nick,
"It will help you out with your foreplay."
"Plus Nat, if Nick doesn't behave there is always Vachon," said Mel.
"Hey!" objected Nick.
Sonja grinned back, "one fun thing about being a merc is the toys you
get."
Felicia gave him a brilliant smile. "Could I have a can of Coke?"
..."And a jar of Beluga?"
..."Could I have a case of Perrier?"
... "And can I have a few bars of soap? Dove, if you have it.
Six, if you can spare them,"
At this, Miklos rolled his eyes. "Let me guess. You're feeling
really dirty too."
Miklos looked at her again. Felicia was getting a little scared at
the "let's just eat her and remove the problem, okay?" expression.
"Allie said, and I quote, 'OH...MY...GOD!!! SHE'S TOAST!!!!'"
...a box which Carrie had helpfully not noticed thanks to a patented
Convenient Plot Device, or CPD (tm), which Allie had developed.
Yeah, attack is a sincere form of affection, girl.
I must really love you, then.
Then there were the weird things that were beginning to happen, from
the broadcasts from the Nightcrawler that seemed to come through on
his Walkman no matter what station he set it to to the fact that he
couldn't find so much as an M&M of chocolate anywhere.
And then there was that cryptic note about the monkeys.
"To every rule, there are exceptions, Besides," Ron growled, "if I
_weren't_ off-duty, I'd be forced to dipose of everyone at this
opening.
That would cast somewhat of a pall on the proceedings, don't you
agree?"
Hmmm. If I write any more, my affiliation leader might get upset. :)
"Haven't you exceeded your quota of hypersonic weapons for one
War?"
"Oh, wait a minute." There was no mistaking the invisible light bulb
going on over Nick's head.
"Sorry." Rampant insincerity on her part.
"No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!"
The next few minutes were a repeat of certain fights in the previous
two wars. Due to a desire not to bore people unduly, only the
highlights will be mentioned.
...dozens of other party attendants who's names aren't mentioned
because then we'd have to ask permission and it's the last day of the
war and we don't have time!!!!
And LaCroix was buried under a pile of [very] wet party-goers. It
looked like a foot-ball pileup except higher, and it dripped.
Perri. Urs frowned. She had heard rumours of a Caroush with that name;
an odd coincidence.
The three parties contemplated the thought of Divia coming back.
Surely the gods, or goddesses that structured life on the fkfic-l wars
would never allow it. Still... one never knew.
ANd one thing I have learned from these Wars, there will always be a
next time, yes?"
"Do you hear Fred's music?"
"Fluffy..." she mumbled.
Time passed. The kiss continued. Eventually, Lynn's knees gave out
and she fell to the floor in a little heap. And a very happy little
heap it was.
Site of Hallucination: PSUVM listserv.
This bit of nonsense has been brought to you courtesy of the fact that
y'all managed to overload the list on the last day of the War, as is
(I believe) customary. And by the letter J and the number 7.
"Spunky little things, aren't they?"
Leigh Johnston, Merc by trade, Immortal Beloved by emotional
imperative...
Leigh, who spoke "gagged and bound" as only one who had been
through the advanced Merc Academy class in 'Hostage 404' could, (you
wondered what all those myrmidons of Mercs were _doing_ when you
_thought_they were just sitting around HQ idle?! HA! Well, guess
what!! I don't know either! But that sounds like a good one, yes?
[EG]--- ed.) leaned in.
"I was kind of hoping that no one was paying attention to this thread
anymore other than our two factions, since I've been up so long
without sleep that whole Boy Scout troops could camp out in the bags
under my eyelids so my coherence is a little bit suspect."
...a fact of life which Felicia had unhappily discovered after dying
her original taffy-blonde hair the approximate color of a mahogany
end- table.
A faint, puzzled voice came from another room. "Flea powder and
litoveuterine? Is this another symptom of whatever made her orange?"
"Except Chicago," Cath pointed out. "You keep getting into trouble in
Chicago."
"No close encounters with stakes..."
"No necking sessions..."
"No psychotic half-sisters showing up in town..."
Delivered by Process Server and Signed For by a Perkulator
"Vinyl? Rubber? Why didn't you say so?"
"Karies, that was a hallucination, and not even YOURS!" Leslie
reasoned.
"Huh?" Amy mumbled distractedly, attempting to scrape the alcohol
toward her. She gave up and leaned forward to try and slurp the liquid
off the table's surface. Her already-wet hair dragged in the liquor.
Tara stared.
"The NatPack. Remember--they're the slightly unstable ones?"
"No! Orange is a wonderful color! It's nice and bright and shiny!"
Jennie frowned. "Why not? Hair burn. Pretty bright *shiny* burning
hair."
Susan walked past at that point and murmured, "Oh, my God." She shook
her head, the image of Nick in orange warring with the image of him in
pink. Both seemed equally abhorrent.
Jennie screamed. "Oh, my *God*!!"
'Original Gangsta, or Ovulating Gnu, or Obstreporous Geek, or
whatever he wants to call himself...
*Duh duh daduh, duh duh daduhhh,* the Mission Impossible (tm)
theme song kept playing over and over in Abby's head. Over, and over,
and over, and over... "Ow!" Abby hit her head against the nearest
wall, but that didn't help... It didn't feel very good either.
She had to try the new game once. So, loosening her girdle and
hoisting her hoop skirt, Abby booted up the game.
All in all, it was a helluva way to fight a war.
Thanks, guys. It was fun! :-) Dianne, The Insane Quote-Lister (*going to bed now!* zzzzzz......) **************** Grand High Poohbah of the Mercenary Guild and Professional Annoyance for Hire.... Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- [cat.goddess@pobox.com] -*-"We must be powerful, beautiful, and without regret."-*-
Comments, complaints, flames, blessings, revelations from the heavens, stakes, dead otters, chocolate, and the like may be sent to Cat.Goddess@pobox.com.