Dianne's Infamous(?) FK War VIII Quote List

Yup, I did it again. Since I was not asked by the WarMistress to do 
any such damn-fool thing for her [g], but simply reacted by reflex 
from having done it the last two times, I make no claims for this 
being anything approaching "official." I have thus, also, not 
inflicted it on any lists. Feel free to spread it hither and (of course) 
yon as you please, archive it, fold, spindle, and/or mutilate it, but 
keep the disclaimers on it so people don't misunderstand; and 
remember that all these little snippets are the property of whoever 
the heck originally wrote them... even though, as per ususal, I was 
_not_ insane enough to try to keep track.

As usual and always, this represents only the parts I caught in 
passing which happened to still catch my fancy a-week-and-a-half 
after the War ended and snipped completely out-of-context. I did 
at least skim every War post [*whew!*], but I did so at wildly 
varying levels of consciousness, coherence, and sanity, therefore 
your mileage will most certainly vary.

For those who didn't read the War, you may have had to be there, 
but give it a shot anyway. (And God & Goddess help you if you get 
them all anyway! ;-)))

Dianne la Mercenaire [Cat.Goddess@pobox.com]
Grand High Poohbah of the Forever Knight Mercenary Guild 
"We're so demented. I love us." - Cath Boone (on a completely other list...) 

"Oh, God!" Andrea cried. "Don't tell me we'll have to listen to 
LaCroix sing in stereo all the way to Toronto!"

"Does it have to do with the undynamic duo?" she questioned, 
referring to LaCroix and Schanke who were in the back seat of her 
car trying to sing "Sweet Adeline." Julie didn't point out to them 
that barbershop required four people, fearing the possibility of 
finding a punk Nick or maybe a rapping Vachon.

Suddenly a herd of Screeds in ballet clothes thundered past the 
alley, followed by a school of Cohens dressed as Pippi 
Longstocking.

A few minutes later-- well, she [thought] it was a few minutes, 
but her clock had stopped ticking and was humming "Don't Cry for 
Me, Argentina" in an extremely off-tempo arrangement...

And if she had to be in hell, so did the rest of the group. 

They're everywhere, they're medicated, and they're heading for 
Toronto.

Cousin Zebella bounced gleefully on the extra-large trampoline, 
the hem of her Winnie-the-Pooh sheet toga trailing behind each 
movement.

"Oh my, my! Who knew you could do that with lettuce?"

It didn't matter that the Fanfic Cleaning Fairies could pop the room 
back into order with a mere sentence - this was The Shrine, and 
Jules wanted it treated as such.

"That's an interesting story, Heidi, and one fraught with moral 
issues," Jules mused. 
"Sure - whatever - can you cut these things off?" 

"Looking at it that way," Denese reasoned, "binding and gagging 
her is kind of nice - almost a humanitarian gesture."

"Angst? We're after angst? I'm in Toronto with a bunch of people I 
barely know to track down a runaway emotion?"

"Honey, there's been a Rift in the Space-Time Continuum. Can I 
max out the Visa and go to Toronto, as there's about a dozen 
goldfish who look like a long-haired vampire in our bathtub?"

Considering the darkening sky, lonely road, and war rules (no 
permanent damage to characters, making it relatively safe to pick 
up hitchhikers), Allie decided to take a chance and pulled over.

Clinging tightly and hoping that her acrophobia would not 
outweigh her enraged-vampire-phobia, she muttered, "Geronimo," 
and kicked off.

Julia rested her head in her shackled hands. "I have a very ... bad 
feeling about this," she muttered. 
"That's because you're Russian and having a bad feeling about 
everything is an art form for you," replied Leslie.

"Also, I thought there were only two warehouses in Toronto." 
"Actually, we're a little outside of the city limits."

Oh man, this was definitely not right. My protector, my friend, my 
constant companion had turned into an ottoman.

*Gulp.* "Uh.... It wasn't my fault," was all the terrified Cousine 
could think to say. A true Cousin, she then immediately sold out 
her partner-in-crime in hopes of theoretical clemency...

Without waiting for my reply, he dragged me out the window, and 
we flew screaming into the night.

"Lucien LaCroix," the penguin said with a flourish of one little 
flipper-like wing. "Which way to the herring?"

"What happened to the pizza guy?" Ken asked, his small mouth 
almost gaping open. 
"He was found a few weeks later wrapped in a video tape of Last 
Knight, holding a Ken doll, and had warm fuzzies stuck all over 
him."

The throng of women were drooling quite openly at this point. All 
that talk of romance and love from a man had gotten every 
hormone in the group of love- starved women working overtime -- 
it was a stereotyper's dream.

The woman looked at her in horror. "Sacrilege," she gasped, before 
grabbing a conveniently-placed OED and whapping Lisa in the 
back of the head with it.

"Ummm, Kimber, sun plus me equals poof," Vachon replied.

"Oh, my La-Croix has a first name - L-U-C-I-E-N..."

Cherri grumbled like Vesuvius on a wild night outside Pompeii.

"Those Anarchists are a mess. They can never decide when to have 
a meeting, much less where, and when they throw a party - it's at 
*everyone's* house. Anarchy - blah! - it's so...so...ungoverned." 

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "Penguins can't fly." 
"Not even vampire penguins?" she asked. 
He flicked his flipper and settled deeper into the ice bucket. "There 
are only so many laws of physics one can break at any given time."

Actually, no, it didn't make a bit of sense. As if having a penguin 
that could talk wasn't freaky enough, here was one that could live 
for an eternity and hypnotize cab drivers. 

It started small. It always does. The way you don't notice the tide 
coming in until you're knee deep in saltwater and your food has 
floated out to sea. Or the way you will get sucked into liking a TV 
show and then they suddenly cancel it, leaving you lonely and 
craving chocolate. It started that way. Small and innocent.

"This is weird." 
"Weirder than dropping everything, winning thousands of dollars 
in a poker game and coming to Toronto to participate in a War?"

A mature grub is about four inches long and white with a gray 
head (that you don't eat). Raw, they taste like peanut butter. 
Cooked they taste like scrambled eggs.

"See, Jules!! He doesn't mind! Think we can fit him into the 
trunk?"

"Why worry?" she said as she unwrapped her burger. "It's not as 
though there's some hard and fast rule that the sun must rise every 
morning."

The runway lights afforded Tippi a good view of the tableau. A 
Cohen in a cone-bra and thigh-high boots argued with a Janette in 
Amish duds. A Lacroix in bib overalls traded words with what 
looked like a Vachon in a three-piece business suit. A buzz-cutted 
Nick chased after a vest-wearing Lacroix with fluffy blond hair, 
and a troupe of Screeds in spangled leotards tumbled, flipped, and 
cartwheeled onto the tarmac with gymnastic glee.

"Yep, you got the devil in you." The man's head bobbed like a 
dashboard ornament. "You are one demon-possessed little lady."

"Okay," Jules said. She looked at the man. "I'm getting tired of 
thinking of you as 'short, stocky man.' Do you have a name?"

"Uhm, guys," Annie said worriedly, "I don't want to be a wet 
blanket or anything, but didn't you wackos end up in jail the last 
time you had a high- speed encounter with a vampire?"

She cracked open the corner of an eye; the vision was still there. 
Nick Knight stood at the foot of her bed, dressed in a red cape and 
cowl, decorated with little bricks. He stared intently at her and 
said, "I am Brickman. Are you my Concrete Cutie?" 

Not all of them, of course. Expecting the entire Guild to do 
_anything_ in concert was eerily reminiscent of saddling up a 
horse, twirling a lariat over your head, and yelling "Git alon', little 
kitties!" 

"I need a MaiTai," Tami announced.

"Well, just because time's stopped doesn't mean I want to wear the 
same shirt continuously," said Spifff. "Give me one of each color." 

Annie Raper and her tennis shoes used with Annie Raper's 
permission.

"Bite me, it's fun! Mst3k is art!"

I'm strong. Anyone tries to take advantage of two sweet innocent 
girls on the streets of Toronto at night, I'll kick their butts.

"Those are all very interesting theories," Susan remarked as they 
approached the theatre. "But I know the real reason. The rift 
occurred because the road construction on Spadina Avenue is 
finally complete."

"And also why people keep saying "Curiouser and Curiouser" 
around you - it's the name of an episode where the vampire you is 
shown as a mortal you - more like you, you, than her, you, and you 
dress like you do, instead of like you normally do."

"I'm a penguin chick," the bird said. "My name is Nicholas de 
Brabant. You may call me NickyChick."

Tammy nodded toward the cooler. "So, the penguin is in the 
cooler?"

"Um ... OK. I'm sleeping and you're ...?" 
"Getting more impatient by the moment."

One cabinet held a large assortment of crucifixes, bags of garlic, 
and a box of water pistols marked "Holy Water". 
"Rambo him in the name of the Lord, " Partly muttered.

"How odd," Tippi said. "I don't think otters are indigenous to North 
Carolina. Or at least, not to bathtubs."

"Wastin' away again in Slackerita-Ville, Searchin'for my-
yyy...place in the plot...."

Ro advanced slowly toward her best friend, a whisk in her hand 
and murder in her eye...

Even she admitted a heavy chiffon toga wasn't always convenient, 
and nobody ever discusses how uncomfortable an eighteen-hour 
breastplate can be at cocktail parties.

"A Pooka. Oy. I've got a Pooka. I've got a Pooka-Nick. That 
nobody but me can see or hear. I can't believe I just travelled all 
that way with an Irish myth by my side," she muttered.

"Do they charge you if time's standing still? They can't keep 
records... Free internet time."

Leslie glanced at her friend. "Oh come on, you're still sore that I 
kidnapped you forcibly from your job at the Met during a critical 
time and now you have no means to return?" 
Julia glared at her. "No, I just thought about the fact that I'm 
probably going to get a life sentence for your murder."

"Not an overdose dream..." a voice behind them interjected. Kelly 
moved past them to the bar, "This is more like..." her voice trailed 
off for a moment as she searched for an appropriate metaphor, 
"this is like bad network television.

Michelle interrupted, "Now wait a minute. We may have had our 
differences with TPTB, but even *they* can't be so stupid as to 
think that we would want to watch "Nickapoo, Vampire Kangaroo-
boy Homicide Detective"!

She found herself staring into a pair of incredible brown eyes. A 
pair of eyes the color of clay mud on a hot, summer day in the 
south. A faded brown, just light enough to look like someone had 
melted chocolate and poured it into the sockets.

An idea struck her like a speeding vampire. Poe did her very best 
guinea pig impression.

The bartender smiled, and said, "What would you like?" 
"A root beer for me, and do you have guinea pig?" Poe asked.

Bons made a special effort to create loud, stomping noises with her 
non-sensible shoes to prove just how irritated she was. *Stomp!* 
*Stomp!* *Stomp!* It was a fun sound.

So Bonnie hissed, held her garlic oil at the ready, and warned, 
"One false move, and you'll have Schanke wanting to lick your 
face!"

"What are you doing with my face?" She stretched out her arm 
toward the black kerchief that secured the other woman's hair. "Do 
you have my same hair under there too?"

"Yo. Heather," she said urgently. "I think a plot device just got 
here."

"Hey! That *is* pretty good Kim!" Heather laughed, then realized 
she laughed alone. That made her feel too much like a symbolic 
clown in an existential play, and she sat up soberly.

"Behold," said the rider, "and forsooth, fair maiden, for I am your 
Prince Charming, and I have come to rescue you and stuff."

She sighed. "Same old FK problem," she said to herself, "no 
blasted *continuity*."

//And to think,// she thought dismally, //I could have had a 
penguin.//

Jessica leaned over to Laura. "What's a PD?" 
Laura leaned back and said "It's a Plot Device. Only to be used in 
emergencies." 
"Oh. Like a CPD, but not as convenient." Jessica nodded sagely.

"Ooooooooooo," they said in unison. 
"You two are beginning to sound like a Spanish vowel lesson,"

They turned around to find the woman, hands extended in 
Mummy-like fashion, going into a trance. "Belly fur, belly fur," she 
mumbled as she began walking toward the Knightie critters. "Got 
to tickle some tummy fuzzies."

Bonnie caught the metal railing easily and hung on. And hung on 
some more. Her lack of bulk was a determining factor in her 
inability to engage the ladder device into lowering mode.

Patt looked in. Patt said nothing. Patt fainted.

"Because, uh Spifff, there's a souvlaki floating by your head," 
stuttered Sara. 
"I see. And it's dripping crumbs and tzaziki on my nice clean floor 
because SOMEONE forgot to take a plate," said Spifff handing a 
plate to the empty space behind her.

"I think all women should smile more and be happy. Everyone 
should be happy, but especially women because they're just so 
beautiful when they're happy. I just love women. They're so soft 
and nice and pretty and smart and wonderful. [sigh] I just love 
women. And romance," he continued, "I just love romance. Have I 
mentioned that I love romance before? You know I'm a romance 
novelist, don't you. Of course you do, you're my new publicist. Isn't 
romance grand? I just love love." 
"You said that already," Lisa snapped. "And I swear by all I am, if 
you say that one more time, I'm going to beat you with a herring."

"I don't see why I should tell them about you," Margie was saying, 
apparently to no one at all. Perhaps she was arguing with the 
topiary...

"'Ere, you three kin split this...." Libby pulled out a chocolate 
Screed. "They're even anatomica...." 
"Okay, okay, I see! " Laurie said, turning away in disgust. 
"Yuck!" Lisa exclaimed.

*Kristine and her fish appear with her permission.

"That'd be my luck. A rabid amorous farm animal - that's all I 
need!"

"Haven't a clue," Tippi said. "I mean, think about all the different 
incarnations of Lacroix I've dreamt up in the past. I've written him 
in a cheap black dress and poofy blond wig. I've suspended him 
from wires, portrayed him as an otter puppet, and strapped him 
into the Blessed Blue Garters. He's perpretrated Evil Pink crimes, 
campaigned to save fictitious TV shows, and been stuffed into a 
giant bunny costume for Easter. Never once did I imagine him a 
penguin!"

When she finally made her way to the headquarter's main room, 
she was greeted with a sight that made her yelp like a yodeller in 
leiderhosen two sizes too small.

"Ohwowohwowohwow!Isawyouintheshow,Imean,IthougtIsawyoub
utthemIwasn'tsure,Imean,whywould*you*gotoacharityfashionshow
,andthenIthougththatyouweretheretoseeme,butyoudon'treallyknow
me,soIguessyouwerejusttheretoseetheclothes,butnowyou'rereallytal
kingtomeand..."

'I said, great trick!' Nick repeated himself, giving a bounce that 
shot him several feet into the air. Liking the effect, he did it again. 
'STOP THAT!!!' Kil said, or rather, shouted.

Throwing their stuff into the car and making sure they hadn't 
picked up any stowaways, thy drove off at a sedate pace of sixty-
five miles per hour.

"And some of us don't ever have to worry about finding a hot lunch 
in the next room," Annie sighed. "I wonder if He likes 'fluffy' 
things for dinner."

Starting off very quietly and slowly rising in volume, she said, 
"Nobody, but nobody, is Ever, Ever, Ever, alloWED tO plAY 
FRANK SINATRA ON MY STEREO. DO YOU 
UNDERSTAND!!!??? NO, NO, NO FRANK SINATRA. IF I 
HEAR ANY MORE FRANK SINATRA, I AM GOING TO LOSE 
MY MIND!!!!"

She just sat there blinking [blink-blink] [blink-blink] Nicolas 
was obviously on his way into a crying jag, so Lisa did the only 
thing she could think of ...she picked up half of her bagel and 
threw it at him. It ricocheted rather nicely off his head and stuck to 
the wall by the stove -- it's truly amazing how powerful a sticking 
agent cream cheese is.

Behind her, unnoticed, a Surfer-Dude Lacroix walked out of the 
wall, complete with tan, flip-flops and a board. He crossed the 
room, and disappeared into the opposite wall.

"Readers, if you are normal like me - and I ASSUME you are - you 
were appalled by the previous occurrence." stated Nat as she 
returned to her motorcycle and grabbed a huge pink hand bag.

That was when Jayne noticed that there was something odd about 
him. Under his tousled blond hair, Nick's ears were pointed, like 
elf ears. His eyes were slightly almond-shaped, and he sported a 
pointy little goatee on his pointy little chin. In fact, he had a 
definite air of pointiness about his entire being.

"God, not again," said Amy. "We did that in War five."

"Oh, glasses? That's no problem, you must just be Nearsighted 
Human Factor Janette!" Mary Sue grinned, the mistake in 
continuity solved easily. "I cured nearsightedness just *eons* ago, 
so I can help with that too!"

"You know," said Tina, ignoring Mary Sue's anguished cries. "I 
hope this doesn't happen for the *entire* War. That'd get more than 
a bit annoying."

Various Nicks, Lacroixs, Natalies, and Janettes wandered, ran, or 
pranced all through the eerily darkened city.

"No, no. Lacroix is from Nome," the penguin said.

"They're grotesque!" the penguin spat. "Freakish! Look at all the 
space between your knees and your ankles! It's positively revolting. 
I bet if you rubbed them together fast enough you could call 
crickets!"

"STOP QUOTING ME!" Partly shouted. "Oh, my God. Do I really 
talk that much?" 
"Actually, yes," Robin said. "The only difference is, we never 
listen."

Sidney the Sheepdog flattened his belly to the floor and wiggled 
forward slowly. This either meant that he thought he could act 
sneaky if necessary, or he was offering his services as a mop.

She turned around to pay the cabdriver with the 
DHPlatinumNoLimit Card. ["Never Leave Your Reality Without 
It"]

"You're Santa?" Kira asked, incredulous. "Santa doesn't wear 
black, and he doesn't have horns."

"You wore moose pajamas to crime scenes! I think that 
disqualifies your fashion vote," giggled Spifff.

"What's going on?" asked Marcia. 
"Well, you could call it a FoD fight," quipped Charles, licking 
chocolate icing off his fingers.

"No, I'm sorry. You see, I have to meet with someone...." Bonnie 
was trying to escape, but at nearly 6 feet, and over 150 pounds, 
Teresa was perfectly capable of being an immovable object.

Casey then also felt the odd pulling sensation and yelled, "Hey 
Amy, DON'T DO THAT...I don't want to go on a magic carpet 
riiiddddeeee wwwwiiiitttthhhh yyyyooouuuou!"

And 'Disco Duck' played on..

Maus frowned and looked up from her laptop. "We're 
uncomfortably close to the Perks HQ. They're at 56 Hudson Drive; 
this is two blocks off, 28 Highlander." 
"Highlander?" asked Julia, an eyebrow raised. 
"It's the closest to a crossover we're getting," said Maus, shrugging.

Jules said nothing. She stood stock-still, her eyes locked with the 
vampire's. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. This was a 
good thing. Hopefully she'd lose consciousness and miss the 
moment when she became unemployed, utterly humiliated, or a 
corpse.

Libby paused as realization hit. In charge? She was in charge of the 
Ratpack!!! Her husband, her family, her boss and her co-workers 
back in Arkansas would be so... so... absolutely disgusted!

Her dreams were full of vampires in their underwear. There was 
Nicolas in his white boxers with kissy lips and Screed in his black 
ones with Forever Knight cross-stitched on them. There were 
vampires in red speedos and white toga undies. Nicks in blacks, 
silk boxers and zebra print bikinis; Screeds in Fruit-of-the- Looms 
and fur-covered briefs; Vachons in white, leather briefs and chain-
mail boxers; LaCroixs in blood, red, silk boxers and purple, 
fringed tho... Lisa sat bolt upright, waking in a cold sweat, 
screaming in horror, "PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!!!"

"I wrote it myself," he beamed proudly. "I'm so excited. I'll get to 
meet all my Toronto fans and they'll be so happy to meet me, their 
idol, their hero, their ... their ... their ..." 
"Their pompous, self-absorbed, gushing windbag?" Lisa offered 
helpfully, but Nicolas was too far gone to notice.

"It's like leading around a hyper child. Why couldn't I get someone 
like Comedian Lacroix, or Cross-Dressing Schanke, or Cotton-
Blend Janette, or Wildly Passionate and On The Prowl Nick, or..." 
Jayne paused, put a weary hand to her temples and massaged 
gently. "Do you have to jingle like that?"

The Fay Vachon smirked at the nymph's discomfort, gaining back 
some of his seducing shine. It didn't work on Jayne. She thought he 
looked Turtle Waxed.

Zeonia shrugged. "Nope. He's pretty good with his patients. We 
haven't had anything serious... a hangnail, a few scraped knees, and 
an acute case of indigestion. Once in a while, though, he says 
something to them like, 'I'm sorry, its hopeless, and you only have 
three minutes to live.' Then he whammies them and makes 
preparations to eat. Good thing I'm a resistor."

The dungeon was very rarely used. The padded cell in the upper 
part of the building was used more than the medieval style 
dungeon. It was so rarely used, some cousins hadn't even known 
about it before this war.

//He kissed me,// she thought, the realization of what had happened 
finally sinking in. //I've been on the receiving end of a very sloppy 
carouche kiss! Eeoooowwww!!! This is gonna take more than 
iodine to cure this. Eeooowww!!!//

"Annie?" Robi asked, the concern great in her voice. "Uh, Annie, 
honey? What are you doing standing on the street during an 
endless, forever night?"

The girls at work were asking what in the world were Cousins and 
Nunkies , and why was she a Light Cousin and not a Dark one. She 
convinced them that the Cousins were a family list, and that 
FORKNI was a mailing list for better table etiquette, to which they 
sighed a breath of relief. Heidi was a notoriously messy eater.

[ I need a night away from Forever Knight], she thought. She put 
on her slinkiest outfit (her overalls and white satin shirt, complete 
with Birkenstocks and pigtails in her hair. Slinkiness is a state of 
mind!)

The figure on the dance floor was clad in a shiny, white polyester 
suit, replete with platform shoes that contained goldfish in the 
heels. He had a multi-colored paisley shirt with large butterfly 
collars. His afro was as tall as it was wide, large enough to hide a 
small child in. You could smell the High Karate cologne from a 
mile away. And he was walking over to Heidi.

She froze in fear. [I am the loser magnet of the world], she 
thought. [If their is one man in a club that has a furry seat cover 
and fuzzy dice in his pimped out Monte Carlo, God will send him 
to me].

"Oh no!" Tammy gasped gasped. She held up what looked like a 
kilt. "He went out without his clothes!" 
"That would explain why he was naked," Tippi said. 

Shirl sighed. "He's having a hard time coming to terms with his 
vampire penguin nature," she said. "He won't touch any of the live 
herring in the pool. 'I will not take a herring life,' he says. So he 
just waddles into the pantry, rips open a tin of sardines with his 
beak, chugs 'em down, then indulges in a fit of self-loathing until I 
stuff him into the fridge."

On the television screen, a woman was sitting comfortably in a 
chair in her home, reading poetry aloud. Naturally, moments later, 
she was dead. "Ick," Lacroix muttered.

A thought briefly passed through Lisa's head regarding the rule of 
not studying during the summer, but this was quickly escorted out 
her ear by a faulty little neuron named Ed.

"Wow," Carrie said, now more confused than ever. She was so 
impressed with this lack of information that she said it backwards. 
"Wow," she repeated.

"You know," he said, "I got this suit from Elvis himself." 
"If it makes you feel better, try to imagine for one moment that I 
care." 

"You can't order us around any more," Valerie said from her 
position on the floor. She was lying down, and her legs were in 
some sort of impossible twisty position. "You're not the faction 
leader this War. Neener neener."

Leaning against the brick wall, Dawn drew in a deep breath... and 
regretted it immediately. Turning around, she discovered that she 
was standing right next to the Happy Souvlaki dumpster, and that 
while the clocks may have stopped at midnight, decomposition 
continued on its merry way.

"*Natpackers*!" Dianne hissed, startling Dawn out of her waffling. 
The Poohbah leaned closer, a maniacal gleam in her eye. "You've 
been hanging out with those lying, sneaking, traitorous, warped, 
demented, perverted, insidious, spurious, rabid, cracked, daft, 
raving, lunatic, _schitzothymic*_...," she stuttered for a moment..., 
"*THINGIES*!" Dianne finished, rather anticlimactically.

"Well, on Star Trek, nine times out of ten, the universe goes awry 
because of tachyon waves," Susan replied as she reached for her 
glass of milk. "And tachyon waves are?" April asked with a smile 
lighting her face. 
"An overused plot device?" 

"It's been my experience that nothing we have in the war lasts once 
its over." Partly said. "Money, equipment, significant character 
development. All gone. Just like episodic television."

"By the way," Robin said. "We have a merc in our belfry."

"You are my muse," snap. "My goddess," snap. "My love, my life," 
snap. Snap. "The glimmer of gold in your hair," snap. "The azure 
sparkle of your eyes," snap. "The porcelain sheen of your upright 
fist." Snap.

"well...walk with Jasper, she's a fictional character too. You might 
find her pleasant. She raises the dead for a living you know."

Note: Find the Nickaroo sound effect at: 
http://members.aol.com/fkficwar8/opener/nickaroo.wav

All real life people used with permission. All fictional people 
didn't respond to my email seeking their permission so I used them 
anyway.

The Irish-stepper Nick danced outside the loft, a bunch of 
callalilies and a ransom note in his hand. 

"YOU KNOW THE SCREAMINGLY LOUD SOUND OF SLY'S 
VOICE BECOMES HYPNOTIC AFTER A WHILE," Amythest 
commented

"Meep!" he replied, then began to blubber.

"As if everyone in the world wants to hear about my personal, 
private encounter with MacNunkies," Heather scoffed. 
"We do!" Kim said. 
"Yeah," Heather said as she gestured in the direction of the reader's 
monitor. "But *they* don't."

"I had no idea there were such weapons of destruction in the 
world!" He said. 
"Yeah," Labratio returned, "Stallone movies ARE rather bad, aren't 
they?"

"Um, my name is Tserisa. I...." She broke off. "I lost my LaCroix,"

Bonnie was transfixed. Under her breath, so low that only vampire 
hearing would have been able to make it out, she was saying, "Bar 
fight. . . he, he, he . . . bar fight."

"This character interaction stuff is getting a little bit real, don't you 
think?" 

"Who? I'm Hell's Elf, this is Evil Santa. Now do you want your 
present or do we shove it down your pants?" Kira said with an evil 
look.

"Maybe I'm a little psychic. I was down here when you called for 
Gandalf, and I made the logical leap." 
"That's not a leap, that's an Evel Knieval motorcycle stunt!"

"So what's going on?" Rachel asked, "And who keeps shouting 
`Adrian!' all the time?"

(Note to those who think I wouldn't think something like this, 
you're right, I wouldn't. But this is a pg13 story and what I'd really 
be thinking is R rated.[WG])

"Oh, sorta like that episode of Star Trek . . ." 
"Sorta like most of the episodes of Star Trek, but yeah."

Your counterpart in this dimension is psychotic, dead, and a little 
younger looking. You know, you should probably stick with me.

Time: Approximately 5 pairs of shoes, one Maple Leaves jersey, 
several new computer software selections, about half of a small 
electronics store, 8 CDs, 7 really cute pairs of earrings, a 
scrunchie, a fedora, a pair of dark sunglasses, a new trenchcoat, 
and a quick side trip to the grocery store after part 2 of this story.

"Well, at least if I had to be a psychotic, I was a well-dressed one."

Trillium staggered backwards as realization struck her like a truck 
full of puppy chow.

They stared down dumbfoundly at what appeared to be a little 
Nicky. It was approximately the size of a hamster, a very fat 
hamster. Not that we are saying that Nick is fat it is just that this 
particular Nick was fat.

"Poor Nicky," Allexxis said. Then she smiled. " Let me torture 
him."

Just as she was about to plunge the pastry into the steaming liquid 
a scream startled her and the doghnut she had been holding 
dropped to the ground. To the surprise of her still bleary eyes it 
then scurried under the table.

"If we have southern fried pig's feet, I'm calling Pizza Hut."

"Lisa, my dear, do get up. It's so unseemly to crawl. There is no 
need for you to crawl to me. I will not have my publicist groveling 
like a common fan. Get up, woman, walk proud."

"NO!" Lisa shouted waving her hands in front of his face, "NO! 
DON'T! COME BACK!" But, it was too late, he'd already been 
flash- backed.

(What?!? If Highlander can hide swords in leather jackets, I can 
hide a dozen or so books in a tweed blazer.)

"What are you're doing, sir?" asked the villain with a name tag that 
read, 'Hi, My Name Is BOB and I'm here to help.'

Nicolas began poking at him with the umbrella. A jab-jab here, 
and a jab-jab there, here a jab, there a jab, everywhere a jab-jab. 
Old Mc-Nickie had an umbrella, jab-o-jab-o-jab.

To Abby this seemed like a bad recreation of the A-Team. But she 
was soon to find out it was much worse...

"Mo..." Abby felt like the Titanic -- cold and sinking fast.

"Sure, okay, will do! Anything you need! Just keep Mary Sue 
away!!!!!!"

"Thank you, Master of the Bloody Obvious," Kimber replied 
sarcastically.

"I am one with the mother earth," she said in a soft mantra 
outstretching her arms in a perfect balance on the rail. "I am 
complete joy, perfect health, incredible wealth..." she affirmed to 
herself. "I am....." 
"About to fall to your death if you don't watch out," a voice 
interrupted. 

"Look, forget it. You obviously belong downstairs with the rest of 
the unexplained phenomena," she said rather dryly. 

"Hot tub Urs?" said Nat. "Urs didn't have 10 legs, did she?"

"Yes, I know Ms. Krumtum. It is 10:52 pm and the date is June 
13th. It's still Friday."

"We've got to get them out of here before anyone notices us. 
Besides, I've got to get back and find out why whoever is writing 
this part keeps giving me all these damned hyphenated thoughts to 
think. It's making my head hurt. Some so-called-writer. Humph."

"As I always say, the worst thing about your average vampire isn't 
the bloodsucking, killing indiscriminately thing, it's that they have 
NO color sense at all."

Looking into the now open cabinet, he saw 8 bottles of red liquid 
with the label "Bloody Mary's in a Bottle" in large letters across the 
top. Below, in smaller letters, they read "(Made in Canada with 
real blood; suggested for Vampiric use only)" on them.

"HiiiiiiiiiiiiiYaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" screamed Natalie as she kicked 
the driver side door open and threw Father Trucker out onto the 
street. "I'm not posing naked in a deep fryer for anybody, even if it 
is artistic!"

Jill hadn't quite made it to the door when McLisa stepped in front 
of her and said, "My cat always says 'Life is like a litter box, you 
never know what you're gonna get.'"

"Nicolas," Lisa said, attempting to hold him back, and look in his 
eyes, "listen to me, this is not the rival you've been looking for." 
"This isn't the rival I've been looking for." Nicolas repeated 
blankly.

A very surprised fish with a crew cut was replaced in the bowl. He 
swam around for a seconds, disoriented, the other fish eyeing him 
warily. They isolated themselves from the shorn fish and blinked 
threateningly at the alienated creature.

Heidi mumbled, "Hello. My name is Heidi. I am not his mother, 
nor am I his love hangover. I am a Cousin, and I am on the brink of 
homicide. Nice to meet you." 

"Dunno." Cynthia shrugged, then smiled. "I think the plot hole 
likes you."

Bonnie wasn't angsting. She was considering the welfare of 
someone she respected to the point that it resembled self-
castigation, remorse, and despair, but she wasn't angsting.

[How do you apologize for giving a friend a K.O.? Say, 'Gee, Kat, 
I'm really sorry about your potential brain damage, possible speech 
impairment, and any destruction to your cognitive abilities.' Oh, 
yeah, that'll work just fine,] 

"He's a WereVachon," Jules explained. "He becomes Vachon in 
the light of the full moon."

"No, I'm not a Cousin." 
"He's British," Lori said.

Luckily the time rift had allowed Federal Express to change their 
motto from "When it absolutely, positively, has to be there 
overnight," to "When it absolutely, positively, has to be there 
before you realized you needed it." 

"YoUR PeNGuin," the note began, "hAS bEen BIRd-NappeD. If 
You wAnT to SeE hiM agAiN, hAvE $50,oo0 rEAdy. SIGneD, thE 
NaPPeR." 

Kelly turned back into the Hive, holding the sheets of pornography 
distastefully before her. From what she had seen, it wasn't even 
very *good* pornography. Turgid, unimaginative, and look, a 
participle, just dangling...

"You're sharing my brain again, Marcia." 
"You're welcome. You were saying?"

"Pretty, I feel pretty." Picking up the hammer he continued to sing, 
as he nailed the material to the wall. Deb decided life just wasn't 
worth it. She rushed the singing fruitcake, leaping onto his back, 
grabbing him around the neck, hanging on and praying for a 
miracle.

"When I go fetch Mo from her waiting cell I want to put the fear of 
blonde into her."

"Can you give any examples to furthur that run-on sentence?"

"Great! That's wonderful." Lizbet threw her pencil at the back of 
the room, missing a chance to stake a vampire if the vampire in 
question had actually been sitting there. 

And anyway, she's what we call a surprise witness. Perry Mason 
does it all the time. Matlock, too. L.A. Law. Ummmm.... Law and 
Order---" 
"If the Defense will cease citing television shows as legal 
precedents, I'll allow the testimony," Dianne said, her eyes 
narrowing 

"Nobody gets to look cooler than the Judge."

"Duct tape the witness's mouth shut!" Dianne bellowed, standing 
up and slamming the gavel into the bench with enough force to 
dislodge the head from her Official Hammer of Doom, thus 
forcing her to use the screeching microphone to punctuate her 
shouts. "Suppress her!! Put her in a bag and *sit* on her!!"

That, or some jacks would do in a pinch. Jacks without a capital J. 
Don't go there. Or at the very least, wear sturdy boots and don't 
drink the water.

But she only had a moment to spare for me, as the Great And 
Wonderful Schnookums o' Luv, aka Dianne the Destroyer, was 
verbally giving birth to several large exotic animals in Lizbet's 
direction. 

Dianne can't grow fangs. Suddenly I was both very aware and very 
grateful of this fact at the same time.

I replied that yes, I most certainly would tell the truth, the whole 
truth, and nothing but the truth. Beginning with the fact that telling 
the truth is just a tragic waste of some good fic-writing time, for 
which I would like just compensation.

"Because I'm really Jen in disguise!" I ripped off my mask, to the 
exclamations of the older listies, the confusion of the newer ones, 
and one seriously girlie-shriek from Dianne.

The wail took me by surprise. But I doubt I was the only one. 
Christina came rushing in from one of the side rooms to wrap her 
arms about an inconsolable Dianne, who finally managed to moan, 
"...serious! She was being *serious*!"

I whipped a small cage out of the Holy Plot Hole of Antioch and 
set it on the bench in front of her. Dee sniffled and frowned. "Is 
that a chinchilla peeing on my proceedings?"

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be 
misquoted, then used against you..."

Just as the cheese was reaching the right temperature, the special 
vents in the ceiling of the room opened up, and the nacho chips 
started raining down, lightly coating the cheese-covered Mercs, 
who were now Merchos.

Kimberley looked frankly at Mo's lawyer. "Well, I warned you I 
was anal. She got cheese all over my best suit! I say we give her 
life without the possibility of Nat..."

Dianne positively glowered, drawing herself up to her full height 
(which was actually only 4' 26", after all) and declaiming in a 
manner worthy of a fire-and-brimstone preacher, "I will not be 
insulted, mocked, chinchillaed, Lurkered, cheesed, microwaved, or 
_Merchoed_! My courtroom is my own! Mineminemine*mine*!'' 
"Thank you, No. 666!" Lizbet muttered under her breath.

"*Over her dead body!*" Lizbet announced with determination. 
Dianne readjusted her chinchilla absently and frowned, "Can you 
_do_ that?"

Besides -- it was probably the work of one of the affiliations 
anyway. The government or police [never] managed to quite 
become aware of the real nature of the wars. It was like this magic 
force field aways protected them from discovery. 

With peace restored (we chopped out three pages of monotonous 
conversation and fighting in order not to try your patience), they 
got out of the van. 

"Yes, I can sing in many keys. Unfortunately, I tend to do it all in 
the same song!"

Kil was outside. Since she was temporarily without a dog, she had 
decided to take Perky Nick out for a walk. Unlike her dog, 
however, he was not on a leash. A fact Kil was beginning to regret.

"I do believe I heard one of the Cousins call it 'Friteen' -- 
apparently the evening of Friday the Thirteen has gone on rather 
longer than it has generally been known to do in the past."

"Oh? Happy Birthday, Heather!" Sharon said enthusiastically. 
"What, still?" Jan protested. "I feel like we've celebrating for days." 
"We have, but *someone*," Heather glared disapprovingly at the 
writers, "hasn't bothered to move the plot along, nor have they let 
us sleep since that trampoline episode!" 
"Come to think of it," Jan said as she sniffed the air. "No one's 
written that we've bathed, either."

"Face it," Heather announced. "We're on a perpetual collision 
course with wackiness."

The look on Heidi's face was easily discernable, 'Lord,' it said, 'why 
me? Where's a MarySue when you need her?'

"Cut him some slack. He may be a wuss, but at least he's not 
floating around pretending to be masonry."

"Even the Twilight Zone was never this weird."

"The Temporal Anarchist's Cookbook (Volume 1 of 2) Volume 1 
contains a primer on basic temporal physics as well as several 
simple practical applications of temporal theory, including basic 
plot holes, plot pot-holes, and interdimensional paving techniques.

"Hey, I can flashback! Just like Nick! This is great! No wonder he 
spaces out all the time. I love War! OK, where, was I?" 

Margie took a deep breath, getting herself under control. "Sorry, 
guess you had to be there," she said with a smile. 
"I *am* here!!" Tammy shouted. "But I'm starting to wonder about 
*you*!"

She envisioned him being turned into Buffalo wings. He could be 
forced into servitude as some kind of cutesy lawn ornament, she 
thought. Or, with his coloring and roughly spherical shape, he 
could wind up being turned into a soccer ball! Who knew what 
sorts of strange and twisted things could happen to a vampire 
penguin during a War?

"Whoa," Tippi murmured. "What a startling turn of events! I feel 
like this is where we should cut to commercial, or something...."

What lay before her looked more like a dead hockey team mascot 
than the penguin Lacroix she remembered. Didn't he used to be a 
lot smaller? And had there always been a tag under his flipper that 
said '100% Nylon Plush - Made In Taiwan'?

She looked up at him. "Mortal Slinky? Don't you mean 'mortal 
coil'?" "Mortal Slinky, mortal coil," he said with a flick of his 
wrist, "it's all some kind of angsty spiral."

Moments later, instantly, whatever...

"Aaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee!!!!!" 
Charl, who had wandered in by this point, remarked to Poe, "You 
know, she's getting really good at that screaming thing. I think she 
could get a job doing that."

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Laurie suddenly wailed."Tami, that's 
Barney Rubble, not Barney the Dino ..." 
"Don't care, all Barneys must be destroyed."

"CUT IT OUT! I'm the ONLY person who gets to sing in this 
story."

"Dead dinosaur, dead dinosaur, let's hear it for dead dinosaurs," 
Tami shouted, as she jumped up and down on the head, flattening 
Dino to a pulp.

(insert screams, moans of agony and a death scene longer than 
Pee-Wee Herman's in the Buffy movie.)

Jules exclaimed, "YUCK! BEE SPIT!! I don't actually *eat* the 
stuff, woman!"

Yep, it was definitely a LaCroix - only LaCroix would have the 
audacity to reach right into a fishtank in a public place and make 
himself some dinner. And that fish he was munching on looked 
suspiciously like Vachon.

"No, as a matter of fact, I don NOT have jello for a brain!" Andrea 
exclaimed.

"That chocolate bar looks suspiciously like LaCroix," Janette 
noted. "Mmmmmmm, I know," Andrea said as she quickly made 
the anatomically correct candy a little less anatomically correct.

The phone rang and Beth answered. "Loft Full O' Nicks, can I help 
you?"

"Spiff?" Beth got a pen and paper and began to write the message 
down. "No, Spifff -- the third 'f' is silent."

They had no trouble finding their car among those parked in the 
lot. It's easy to identify a car that has something bouncing back and 
forth over it, hopping higher with each try, accompanied by a loud 
"boing!" noise. 

She mimicked the detective's voice. "Mercenaries, you're in the 
middle of a war. What are you going to do now?" "WE'RE GOING 
TO WONDERLAND!", Heather shouted.

"Shhhh! I'm in disguise. You don't recognize me. In fact, you don't 
even see me." 
"How can we not see you? You're standing right in front of us." 
Nancy poked at Tami's belt. "Besides, it's a totally lame costume."

"Hey! Slacker!" she suddenly yelled at the WereVachon who stood 
nearby, shaking his head. "Don't just stand there - give me a 
boost!" 
"Can't." Vachon didn't look remotely sorry. "My Nick side is 
restraining me from helping you feed your addiction. Honest."

"That's not even remotely legal," Amythest sounded disappointed 
in her vampiress.

"Dear God," she moaned. "What have I been doing, who have I 
been doing it with, and why don't I remember any of it?" 

"To hell with aspirin. I need a double scotch and a dose of 
Thorazine."

"Well, it could be worse, we could be like some factions who are 
way off in FantasyLand enjoying their alternate character's, ah, 
company," one voice chimed in. There were a few snickers.

"Oh #@%$," she said, entirely forgetting this was a PG war.

"A name, for the Registry," Shelley explained patiently. "They 
can't all be called Lucien Lacroix. What do you want to call him?" 
"Gone," Toni replied promptly.

"Tonight's topic is guilt," Schanke said. "Side topics include 
fashion mistakes from the 70's, 101 uses for herring, and radio 
station security."

Sure, he looked like Lacroix, but he didn't *smell* like Lacroix. He 
had the breath of an otter and his lips smelled like the inside of a 
starfish.

"Hmph," Tippi said. "For someone in a sequined kilt you sure are a 
master of understatement."

Everyone used with everyone's permission. A special thanks to my 
co-workers who were more than happy to provide technical advice 
on hot tubs, natural gas, and Limburger cheese.

The rats chattered their understanding, or perhaps they were trying 
to convey the fact this was not technically in the wall, but rather in 
an attic crawlspace. Whatever the case, it still sounded like 
understanding.

Dianne sighed as Libby, Screed, and all the rats nodded in perfect 
unison. "I wonder if anyone has a Joe Reese, Pest Exterminator?"

Can I help it if I'm a vampire slut?"

"Sorry about that, iguana problems. My LaCroix you said?"

"Hello? ... Sorry ma'am, but goats are out of our jurisdiction. ... uh, 
no, I don't know a good goat repellant.... No, I don't think garlic 
works against *goats*...."

And she was insane, she was sure of that now. Mad as a hatter, 
looney as a 'toon, daffy as a duck, goofy as a ... whatever he is 
supposed to be.

Bonnie shook her head. "Nope. Sorry. Don't believe in faeries, 
ghosts, goblins, witches, dragons, nymphs, muses, gremlins, boys 
made out of wood, whales without proper digestive tracts, knights 
on white horses, life after death, the indivisibility of the Union, 
unions in general, wrinkle-free cotton after spending two weeks in 
the bottom of a hamper, Elvis-sightings, alien abductions, most 
conspiracy theories, humus...."

"They're headed right for that person!" Jean said in horror. 
"That's no person, that's Nick!" Tracy replied.

The collision that ensued is too ugly to describe, especially if this 
were to remain a pg story.

"Hang on, I'm thinking." Suddenly, a light bulb went off over her 
head. "I have an idea!" 
"Good!" Maria reached over and turned off the bulb. "But conserve 
this. Do you know how many Forever knight fans it takes to 
change a light bulb?"

"From the Beatles to Kenny Rogers without missing a beat," Lisa 
mumbled. "I think the DJ just got whiplash."

Seeing her, Nicolas, as predictable as taxes, squealed like a piggy 
and fainted.

"Like you said, 'Aardvark spit'," Casey commented.

"That's okay Amy," Casey said, "You've been busy tormenting so 
many other factions, probably slipped your mind."

Tammy decided to ignore the fact that a six-foot bunny had asked 
her if she thought an otter looked odd, and got to the last bit.

"Would somebody get a broom and some aspirin," asked Spifff 
rather dejectedly. She began brushing the little candies into piles. 
"It's going to be a long night."

"Well, it's certainly ... colorful," said Spifff. 
"And it appears to have some level of organization," added 
Charles. 
"It doesn't look as though you colored outside of the lines," 
interjected Roberta.

In milliseconds, there were wet DieHards and vampires 
everywhere (Three bodies in the fountain isn't at *all* the same as 
three coins, the waves are tremendous)

In a flash, Vachon had Vascreed's hands pinned behind his back. 
"DON'T EAT THE PETS," he said firmly.

Vachon turned in the empty hallway and found his room. 
"Women," he said as he turned off the light, "Are weird."

"You have to admit, cutting off a Fish's hair is odd, even for this 
War."

"I'll go check it out," Tippi said, not because she had any instincts 
or leads regarding the matter, but because it seemed like the best 
thing to say in order to make it to the next scene change.

"Eek!" Tippi cried, and jumped up onto the sofa. "A baby!"

Voices filled her head as she drove. "My, my, we *are* in a mood 
tonight." "Denise has filed her report." "Your assassin." "I'd like to 
buy a vowel...."

"I warned you about this, many hours ago, of what would happen if 
you insisted on allowing your guilt to fester. Writers do not have 
the capacity to contain it. When you become a writer, you lose 
your mind, your money, and probably most of your friends. Most 
importantly, you lose your fashion sense. Anyway, where was I?

"Confused?" he asked. "I shouldn't wonder. NickyChick the 
crossdressing penguin is your closest confidante, and you're having 
a torrid affair with your naked captain."

"Calm down. It's not like the penguin violated your favorite stuffed 
animal." 
April sputtered. "Don't say things like that! Charles is going 
through enough emotional trauma over what Mr. Otter did to him!"

But in a flash and a whoosh they found themselves airborne. Each 
of the vampires had a human clamped in each arm. Chris and 
Schanke were enjoying a lovely view up LaCroix's nostrils, and 
Julie and Andrea encountered something they had not suspected 
they would have to ever get close too, Janette's armpits.

"Well, you know our theory, right?," asked Wendy Marie. "That 
the heaviest known element in the universe, Administratium, has 
been collecting in the offices of the FK PTB, thereby causing the 
Earth to stop in its movement and the Rift to be created."

Bons leaned back and studied the guitar critically. She snapped a 
few photos, then paused to frown. "Lean to the left a little for me, 
babe. Work with me now, work with me!" The guitar didn't 
respond.

He leaned closer, his lips to her ear. "Do you want me?" he asked. 
Patt pulled back, staring at him. "That's a really dumb question," 
she sputtered. "For one, it's against the rules, and for two, it would 
be a very dangerous, idiot thing for me to do and . . ."

"That I am delusional, escapist and that I don't get out enough," she 
responded. "And, that I need a vacation."

"Get me out of this costume," she heard Nick's slightly echoing 
voice say. [thump-thump] [thump-thump] 
"I hate to break it to ya, but that whammy thing's not nearly as 
effective coming from Bessie the Cow[tm]. All that hugga-
plushiness - it's so distracting..."

"Ooo. Too bad, Nick. Really. I feel for you, I do," Bonnie said 
insincerely, "and I'd offer to be your emotional co-dependent, but," 
She twisted her lips and snapped her fingers, "darn! I have plans."

"Very rare piranha. Vegetarian piranha from Ecuador. I want to go 
feed them banana chips."

Toronto. The city of crime, scum, and a spankin' good souvlaki. 

"Yeah, inviting them wasn't the joke, their AU's performances 
were," Mark snickered from behind the ladies. The three turned on 
him and proceeded to hunt him down like the laughing hyena he 
was.

Everything was normal. Normal. 
Normalnormalnormalnormalnormalnormalnor-- * * * * * * * 
"EEEEEEEE-AAAAA-UURK!" screamed the Cousine, as the utter 
banality of the dream threatened to overwhelm her, and she woke 
up.

She tried to explain to him that they had to travel a great distance 
and a horse could not possible carry all that stuff. He just gestured 
and the horse rose into the air...Michele was not sure exactly how 
to react to that one.

"Picture, if you will, Lacroix as Howard Stern." Dianne blanched. 
"Or, if that's okay with you, how about Jerry Tate as a vampire?" 
The GHP swallowed. "How about Nick as Dick Clark?"

"I can't help the way I'm written!" Dianne muttered in annoyance. 
"Dianne, dearest, you wrote that yourself."

"*Herring*," the petite, undead fowl repeated with a sneer. "Where 
do you keep your herring?"

"I am The Penguin LaCroix. You ate my sister! Prepare to die!"

Dianne looked at the bird, then at the Mercs, then back again, then 
stated the obvious. "The man's a *penguin*, Chris. How much 
more humiliating can you possibly get?"

"He's in every way very much like our Nick. In fact, the reason for 
the duct tape is ever since he showed up on my doorstep, he hasn't 
stopped angsting and I just lost it," she explained.

"Security for the building is tight. You won't be able to simply 
saunter in the front door. Your rollerblades, lockpicks, and 
rappelling equipment may all prove essential on this trip."

"Why do you need money anyway?" Shirl asked. "I thought the 
penguin Lacroix had credit cards out the wazoo." 
"He does," Tippi said. "Unfortunately, both he *and* his wazoo are 
missing at the moment."

Tammy popped her head into the room. "Did someone say evil?"

***I Lost My War-Virginity To The Penguin LaCroix, & All I Got 
Was This Lousy Herring***

Suddenly a look of horror crossed the receptionist's face. "Oh, 
great God in heaven!" she screeched, and most of the Pack jumped 
in shock. "It's you! It's the insane group of bouncing women with 
poor fashion sense and overactive hormones! You're back! Help! 
Help!"

"Is this the reaction that you get all the time?" she asked, confused. 
"When people see Mercs coming, they generally look frightened-- 
but they don't throw themselves under furniture."

"You'll see," Jill breathed, her eyes fixed on the doorway to the 
rear of the salon as if she expected Methos in boxer shorts to 
appear there. Which, of course, he wouldn't. He's not only from 
another fictional universe, but he hasn't survived 5,000 years by 
being an idiot. Appearing in the same room as Jill and Catherine 
would go against every self-preservation premise he probably 
holds dear.

"Can I help you?" asked a rumbly, deep, thoroughly toe-tingling 
spine-rippling stomach-clenching this-part-censored voice.

"What can I do for you, ladies?" 
"Many illegal, immoral and probably physically impossible 
things," Catherine said in a strangled voice. "Preferably involving 
baby oil."

"Blonde? Do you really think that's a good idea?" 
"The bad idea was to let myself be written into this story in the 
first place," Betsy said practically.

"No more disconcerting than you having a conversation with a 
clock," Perri commented as she sat down. "Good point," the clock 
said. He extended one hand-- the hour hand-- towards Perri. "I'm 
Phil."

"Murflphelrigombrol!" babbled Maureen happily as they left. 
"Snarglesmilpheg!"

The above was mixed with the kind of language that Teresa had 
learned at the knee of her father, a tinker; and perfected since 
meeting her husband, a sailor.

She reached up on top of her thinking cap, looking for the cord to 
the light bulb, but couldn't seem to find it anywhere.

"Hey!", Came a splash and a familiar voice from their left, "Who's 
strangling the cat over there?"

"Sure, why not," Nick said with a shrug before tripping over a 
brick.

Cinderella shrieked and dove under the bubbles in the jacuzzi she 
was relaxing in. "Don't be alarmed, we're only going to kidnap 
you," Kira stated as April rummaged in her backpack, muttering.

"ihiredamercforsecurityandshesherebutineedyoutomakesurewhosh
eis!!" Andrea said way too fast.

Four Nick&NatPackers were on the prowl. Well, actually, they 
were just kind of walking around, but 'prowl' has such a nice ring 
to it.

She picked up one of the shirts, and then promptly donned a pair of 
sunglasses. "Jeez, what did they dye these with?! Nuclear waste?!"

"I'll take two," Kristine said. "One to sleep in, and one to hang in 
the window to scare away door-to-door salesmen."

"NickyChick!" she said. "I didn't expect to see you here, what with 
your less-than-cheery father-son relationship and all. You two 
make Luke and Darth look like the bleedin' Waltons, for cryin out 
loud."

"Moo," Tippi said. 
Cherri glared at her. "Wrong War!" she grumbled.

Tippi smelled something fishy. She was just about to chastise 
NickyChick for belching when she saw Kira and April.

Tippi sighed. "Just keep an eye out for a two-foot tall LaCroix with 
feathers and a beak, and who waddles like a little caboose when 
there's herring around."

She got up and opened the fridge and took out a package of jumbo 
shrimp. She gave him one. "Bad, bad cat." Another shrimp. "Bad, 
bad, *bad* cat, " scolded the rest of the group.

"Aaahhhhh! We're OUT of peanut butter!" Charles sounded panic 
stricken. Tying a dish towel around her neck like cape, Spifff 
lowered her voice and announced, "It's time for 'Crisis 
Management Woman'!"

"There's a Cousin in my peanut butter!" said Charles outraged. 
"You've got peanut butter on my Cousin," glared Lacroix.

"We have three top operatives here to solve the question of the 
time rift," LaCroix began. "And a nun," he added rather dryly.

Please, Lord, let this be resolved soon. One of the orderlies had 
already been fired for trying to sell the story to the National 
Enquirer.

"She's been listning to the bad poetry," Vachon thought unhappily. 
"She's not supposed to listen to the bad poetry."

"Usher Me In, Usher Them Out" part 1 of a Trilogy that may only 
have two parts. We'll see.

Dianne was so irate she didn't even try to understand what John 
was blathering about! She dragged him to the top of the stairs and 
then, with a mighty "Hiiii-YAH!" pitched him over her shoulder in 
a finely executed, though unusual, judo throw. Dianne leapt upon 
the bannister, her velour covered bum sliding downward at an 
accelerated fashion. The Ratbum, his mouth agape and his eyes 
bulging, sailed down the stairs in a non-aerodynamic way. As the 
GHP reached the bottom, she somersaulted off the bannister 
perfectly and then executed three superb cartwheels, her left foot 
hitting the doorknob, spinning it around and as the door popped 
open the toes of her right foot flipped it wide! As John came 
plummeting to his death, Dianne's arms came up and she deftly 
redirected the hapless RatPacker out the door in a perfect parabolic 
arc to land crumpled on the sidewalk. Neighbors spontaneously 
rushed from their humble abodes to hold up placards reading 
"10.0!" from the house with the picket fence, "10.0!" from the 
house next door and "9.92" from the house on the corner, but those 
folks are suspect anyway, they watch "90210"!

So he quick like a bunny dove fer cover behind some furry bulky 
thing sittin on the sidewalk. To the casual observer this dive more 
resembled a slip, trip, stumble and fall, but I'm writin' it so.....

"Oh, yeah; Laurie the mercBard left ya sumthin..." and handed him 
an envelope that was covered with tictactoe games. John noticed 
they wuz no tied games in the lot of em. Libby said, "oh, I wuz 
playin' solo whilst I waited fer ya. I losted 'bout 'alf, I cheat, 
y'know."

She attempted to mimic her friend's New York accent, but being 
from Virginia, sounding like a New Yorker on novocaine.

Suddenly the chicken began to shrink ... no, it was not shrinking, it 
was getting less tall

She continued to watch as the chicken grew larger, taller, older 
until it was the exact same size and age that it was when Alan had 
begun the experiment. But the progression did not stop there. The 
chicken got a little older, then suddenly turned into a bucket of 
Extra-Crispy[tm] from K.F.C.

"Did you bring a flashlight?" 
"No, did you?" 
[thump] [crash] 
"Ssshhhhh!!!"

He scanned right past 490 AM (CERK, for those of you less 
obsessed) without pausing. After all, they never played any really 
cool music -- mostly disco with an odd Tiny Tim song every now 
and again, if he recalled correctly.

The chocolate, made to melt right around 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit 
for proper mouth-feel, just sort of sat on Vachon's tongue not doing 
much of anything, since his body temperature was right around 
that of a formica kitchen counter-top on a pleasant June evening.

"Uh, you guys are late," Denese said. "The war started a long non-
time ago. You're behind.

"Don't play with my mind, I don't have much left."

"Yah, he's up in the library," Leslie confirmed, her senses 
becoming more and more attuned to where Lacroix was so she 
could be where he wasn't.

"Geez, Leslie," said Kelly, nose wrinkling in distaste. "I hope 
someone else is teaching your kids manners."

Leslie went into a fugue by the phone. Golly, she missed her kids. 
The dubious slant to the young Knightie's brow as she declared her 
mother a weirdo, that cute little glint in the baby Cousin's eye after 
she'd stuck the cat in the freezer. Leslie sighed.

We can do this because we're on a mission from the god of bad 
'70s sitcoms.

"Yes, it's us! Come to kidnap you and use you as our personal 
plaything!" the Lurkers chorused gleefully.

Cherri blinked Vachonlike a few times then the chocolate haze 
cleared. "OhMyGod, Sukh? I didn't recognize you in a position of 
authority!"

"So how's the War going for you two?" Margie inquired. 
Gunner shrugged as Leslie said, "I almost drowned in my cereal. 
That was pretty thrilling.

"A toy!" NickyChick burst out, surprising both the UFfers, who 
stared in fascination at the sound of Nick's voice spilling from a 
large Antarctic bird. "Yes! A fitting recompense, an atonement for 
centuries of innocent herrings' lives consumed in my lust for fishy 
blood. A toy - to be chewed, prodded, ignominiously handled, 
machine washed, left too long in the dryer on high, singeing my 
plush fur! After all, wasn't I *his* toy for years, centuries..." The 
penguin trailed off, honking softly to himself. The humans sat 
silent a moment, blinking.

"Make sure you find one that comes without the angst," suggested 
Shirl quietly. "You don't want to warp the kid." 
"Too much," corrected Leslie. "You wanna warp them just a little 
bit. Adds color and dimension to their lives and the lives of those 
around them."

"You're an emergency plot device; start acting like one."

"I'm going to make some phone calls and run a few errands. With 
any luck this is going to wind up like a Mission Impossible 
episode."

"I'm a ratpacker, I've got friends in low places."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Is that a serious question? Have you ever 
looked in a mirror?" 
"Ah, no. Aren't we invisible in those?" Vachon said seriously.

You know, Elvis and I have a lot in common," * said Don. 
"Really?" said Spifff disbelievingly. "that would be, what -- a full 
head of hair? Millions of dollars? Women throwing themselves at 
you?" 
* "Nah," * said Schanke, * "we're both dead, but you'd never know 
it talking to our fans!" *

"Better be careful," Margie warned. "Or else you'll wind up starting 
some kind of new trans-dimensional, cross-species, pan-
mythological couples faction. You don't even wanna think about 
the fic that would come out of it!"

"Is this 'angst'?" the Kelpie asked, looking around. "I've heard so 
much about it, but have never experienced it. Otters don't angst. 
Although sometimes we mope a bit if we can't get dates during 
mating season."

"Sorry, Leslie, were you having a flashback? I know it's addictive 
and all, but we really ought to go in, don't you think?"

"Oh, yeah. I forgot we don't really do this for a living, do we?"

Cherri called over her shoulder. "And Cindy, with the party 
gearing up, you might want to remove the super glue solvent from 
the baptismal font."

Allie was so pent up with worry and fear that her control simply 
burst. "Oh please, you've got to help, my poor kitty has been 
kidnapped, I need a Vaquero with short hair, no wait I need a 
Vaquero who likes *Vachon* with short hair, and clean-shaven, 
Vachon not the Vaquero, actually the Vaquero can be clean-shaven 
too, I don't think that matters, no wait Vachon doesn't actually have 
to have short hair, but the Vaquero has to prefer Vachon that way, 
am I making any sense at all? Pleeeeeeeeeaaaaase help!!!!"

"Not much blood in an insect." "Depends on the bug," replied 
Cathy, who had a small 8-year-old boy. She'd seen it all.

The GHP's voice could be heard halfway across the room. Laurie 
wasn't surprised. In full screaming mode, the GHP's voice could 
shatter a brick.

"And don't think about asking another Merc either. They've been 
warned about you. You are penguina non grata around here."

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek" Cherri finally screamed, the shock of the 
crowd was wearing off. 
"That's right, Eeek, the artist formerly known as Cousin Cherri." 
Vachon added with a grin.

A finger went straight into Nancy's mouth again, and she chewed 
while mulling over how to continue. "I made a big boo-boo," she 
whispered around a mouthful of finger.

"Don't be silly," Tippi said. "A War's no place for a molting 
penguin chick!"

"What's the plan?" Shirl asked. "You look like Rambo on estrogen 
therapy."

"Lacroix!" he gasped. "You kidnapped yourself?! But why?" 
"Because he's a nasty, manipulative little penguin with leg envy!" 
Tippi shouted.

Peeling one green eye open to stare at her petite friend, April 
snarled, "What! And this had better be good. You're small enough I 
can squeeze you into the laundry hamper."

Horses were a wonderful thing, but their reception on the classical 
station lacked a certain something. Volume, for instance. To say 
nothing of their ... emission controls, and lack thereof.

Tami was horrified. This was her wonderful new car! She *loved* 
this car! And she *hated* snow with a passion. "Where did you get 
snow in the middle of June??"

"Mmmm, wellll, okay," Jessica said. "Let me get my coat." She 
rolled to her feet with a grace that she couldn't have managed in a 
million years in Real Life and donned her black leather trenchcoat.

"Probably not," Jessica replied quickly. "Yeah, we're Die-Hards; 
we refuse to choose. Yippee-ki-yay."

And as God is my witness, I will _never_ write a war post with this 
many borrowed characters again!

"Fleur?" said a Lacrucial [my personal fave adjective form of his 
name] voice.

"I should say not," Perfect Nick said, scowling at the duplication of 
his master. "Two Lacroixs. There is no God."

"'Death shall have no dominion,'" CERK Lacroix rasped. "Do you 
really believe that?" 
"Hey, if that b**ch Francesca can come back, why not us?

She shook her hand, where her watch was reciting Shakespearean 
sonnets in an awful Bronx accent. She hissed at it, "Shut up, I'm 
talking now!" Abashed, the watch hushed up.

As she wandered up to the church door, she spotted a long skunk's 
tail sitting on the lawn. "Curious ... " She slapped herself. "Stop 
that. It's been done. To death, as a matter of fact."

"Not on the carpet!" shrieked Tracy, leaping to her feet. Or 
attempting to, it's a little difficult to leap out of a bean bag. Finally 
she gave up and rolled out.

"Well, if you didn't throw like a girl.." Maddog began. 
"I am a girl, git. Just 'cause I didn't spend my youth throwing rocks 
at possums or whatever it was you did for kicks in Kentucky -"

"I am NOT a beauty queen," LaCroix's eyes were glowing red as he 
advanced on his tormentor. The smile never left Janette's face as 
she tartly replied, "And you'll never be one, mon cher, if we don't 
do something about that back hair."

"Talent portion?" Nick's eyes lit up, finally hundreds of years of 
piano lessons would pay off.

"And a one, two, three, step right. No, Nicky, your other right," 
Donnie's voice was tinged with exasperation. He'd never seen less 
coordinated, or hairier, beauty queens in his life. "No, Vicki, your 
other left!"

Maddog looked at the dance rehearsal for a moment, glad that she 
would never again have to humiliate herself by trying to remember 
left from right. Of course, Rastro needed to know left from right to 
fly but she had it written on her shoes. 

"LaCroix," Janette explained very carefully and calmly, "It seems 
that our hosts here have some how lost control of their little game 
and now all eternity is threatened with being clothed in polyester ."

The wonderful thing about slackers, is slackers are wonderful 
things. Their tops are made out of shampoo, their bottoms are 
made out of blinks.

Title: So what's been going on? 
By: Laura Ruggiero, Die-Hard 
Time: whenever SIU-C restores power to the mail server

Side by side, Rat and RatPacker began digging at the offending 
supports. Rats vital to the survival of the species, at least the more 
intelligent ones, scurried out the tunnels.

Christina the MMG yells, "Hey! the front lawn is moving up over 
the windowsill!"

"Gud thingee we lande' on our 'eads, tha woulda 'urt," John 
muttered.

The End 
As the happy RatPackers made their way upstairs, John said, "i'm 
gittin' a bad feelin' about this. Ye done plunked down a right 
proper "The End" but the story's goin' on! Whatever calamity could 
it be?"

END FLASHBACK...........WE GO NOW TO DH HQ!!

Patt and her Godfather Lacroix are Jules and my fiction slaves for 
the remainder of the War

"Bons!" Patt said as she shook the sleeping redhead by the 
shoulders. "Bons! Bons! Bons! Wakems! Express moral outrage!"

"Aaaaahhhhhh!" she squealed. "Patt! Do you know what horribly, 
nasty gross diseases you can get from drinking raw milk? Bleh! 
Bleh! I've seen pictures - it's awful! People looking all yellow and 
smelly and grotesque, just like your face!" Bonnie paused in her 
rant to eye Patt curiously. "Hey! What happened to your face?"

"Oh, alright," Bonnie sighed. "WHY?! WHY!? PATT LOOK 
WHAT THEY'VE DONE TO YOU!! THOSE MEAN, NASTY, 
WHATEVER-THEIR-FACTIONS!!!" She launched into a chorus 
of 'We Shall Overcome,' then handed Patt a wet nap, stating, 
"There. Are you happy now?"

"Yelp!" Bons yelped. "Ohmigawsh! Why is your hair purple?" The 
Fairy Godfather Lacroix immediately turned her into a newt.

"Oh, she's fine. She's more than fine. She's in bliss."

The Nickaroo smiled and leaned to kiss Carrie's hand. A 
chilvarous kangaroo, Carrie thought. How sweet. How weird. How 
totally appropriate for Nick.

"But this is so real!" Jaxie blurted out. "Just like in the episodes." 
Jaxie hesitantly touched the elevator gate like it was holy. "Uh, 
that's cause it is real, " Liz reminded them.

"Why do I have to wrestle an alligator? And why do I have to wear 
a bathing suit?" Vachon whined.

"The judges are the Village People?" yelped Maddog.

"Argh!" went LaCroix, as his brain switched back on. He looked 
around. Vachon had a silly grin on his face and Nick was happily 
playing with the little zipper on the front of his top.

"It's fun to stay at the Y M C A" 
/ Bell bottoms make your butt seem smaller/ 
"It's fun to stay at the Y M C A" 
/ Lime green is a good color on everybody/ 
/Zippers on your shirt are great/ 
/Polyester is fabulous with vinyl/

It was horrible. Tracy had to be stopped. He hoped the Lurkers 
would get back soon with an alligator.

"Oh, I understand honey," Donnie sympathized, "But the fact of the 
matter is, you have to wear the bathing suit. Here," he said handing 
Vachon a tube of something, "This is bathing suit glue. Prevents it 
from riding up your butt. Do you need something to hide your 
nipples?"

She stroked her pussy even harder, Mr. Wuggums liked to be 
stroked hard.

"Quick, Nick!" yelled LaCroix as the audience started to recover 
their senses and realized they were all dressed in really hideous 
clothes, "Do Re Mi!"

"LaCroix! They still have Natalie! That's the reason we did all this 
in the first place!" 
"It is?" The master vampire thought back, trying to recall what on 
earth could have persuaded him to participate in this farce.

Her first thought, after "Eeeep!" was, "Dropping dead would be a 
nice option right now, God." But God wasn't letting her off the 
hook that easily.

"Ahhhhh." Bonnie's mind raced, but her mouth paid no attention. 
"Ahhhhh." As LaCroix gave the stunned young woman a wide 
berth as he stepped into the lab, Bonnie came face to chest with yet 
another LaCroix. "Ahhhhh. Huh?"

"You mean he could end up a walking bowl of oatmeal?" Liz 
asked, more worried than ever.

Liz stammered, "He's ... he's...." 
"Adorable," Heather supplied. 
"Aagghh! What have you done?" Natalie shouted. "I can't date a 
twelve-year-old!"

LaCroix looked at her strangely. "The cat -- would *appreciate the 
gesture*?" he asked skeptically. 
Tser shrugged. "Shameless anthropomorphism is allowed in the 
War."

LaCroix hefted the stake in his hands and gazed down at it. "I lived 
for what seemed an eternity in hell," he mused. "Then suddenly, 
that time was over. In a rush of dust and dreams, I was standing in 
a place that haunted my nightmares and fantasies. A place I 
thought had been forever lost to me. And a conveniently placed 
mortal walked by to feed my starving body." He looked over at 
Tser with a frown and raised eyebrows. "Unfortunately, she has 
excellent lung capacity and bottle-wielding friends."

"Do you feel that?" Tok asked suddenly. The other Cousins 
nodded. A strange feeling like the fabric of reality was being 
tackled with a seam ripper.

She knew they'd figure it out eventually, because what had already 
happened, had to happen again in the future, or there would have 
been no past... or something like that.

"Not that I don't appreciate the carefully enunciated clarification," 
said Tok, "but are you freakin' *insane*?"

T: "Would the Lacroix *you* know ever encourage people to show 
their inner selves by getting naked?" 
N: "It's too cold in the Arctic to get naked -- for any reason. Even 
us penguins wear furry underwear in the wintertime."

He thought he was a rockhopper penguin trapped in an Emperor 
penguin's body. Turned out he was actually a psychopathic 
vengeful female *vampire* rockhopper penguin trapped inside an 
Emperor penguin's body. It's an easy diagnosis to miss."

They were both more than a little tipsy -- she on extra-strength 
Spanish coffees and he on sardine martinis.

"Him's a cute widdle pengy-wengy," Tippi cooed and tickled his 
fluffy little belly. "Isn't him a cute widdle chicky-wicky-Nicky?"

"Being a blood-sucking demon from hell sure isn't for everybody." 

"*Plop!* *Plop!*" went one of the other camels. 
"Ehhhhhhwwwwwww!" Cousin Efery squealed. "This place is 
*ripe*!"

Bonnie nodded. "Yah! I lost my non-sensible shoes in an 
ornamental pond at Wonderland, then I became caffeine deficient 
and fell into a coma, and when I woke up, one of my friends had 
mustard all over her face and these funky eyebrows, and then a 
purple-haired Lacroix turned me into a newt and - " she paused to 
gulp in a breath. "I was too busy to put some new ones on, okay?"

"I can't believe she's baby-talking a camel," Senara muttered.

"Terrific, the Smengie Family Polka band does 'Elvis'." 

Special gratitude to my publicist Lisa. I know, I know, you're not 
my publicist. Anyway, thanks for always telling me I couldn't do it. 
There's nothing quite as motivating as proving someone else 
wrong. That way, you get to say, 'Nya, nya, nya, nya, nya-na. 

"Dogs," he said disdainfully, "are only for scratching posts, and 
only in the worst of times."

"She was not zee frightening demon from 'ell I first thought her"

Time: after the wedding and before the luau

LaCroix glanced down at Chana's hand on his arm, then stared her 
directly in the eyes. "You're touching me," he said ominously.

"Hi, I'm Nick the Knight.." He said to the weary drunken person, 
"and you are?" 
"Hungry," a nasty little voice put in.. "I smell fish, where is the 
fish?"

Fleur sat looking at the portal. "You know, Jessica," she mused, 
"seven-and-a-half centuries is a long time to wait to be with the 
man you love only to find out he died three weeks before you got 
to town."

"Well, that was certainly unusual," Tippi said when they'd returned 
to the manor.

Tippi sighed. "Bye," she said to the empty room. "I'll miss you, you 
stinky little penguin..."

"The 'duh' look." Natalie whispered to Tasha.

Elsewhere in the mansion, Tammy and Margie had decided to go 
looking for their missing Celtic myths after Tippi started 
screaming. 

"Think we should go in there and interrupt?" Margie ventured. 
"May as well. It's a PG War, they can't be doing anything but 
talking," Tammy replied with a shrug. "Unfortunately."

"Figures," holographic Lacroix said smarmily. "You have all the 
social graces of a rutting yak."

Tammy shrugged. "I dunno, this is is kind of... comfy. I wouldn't 
wear it to work, but it's fine for a wild hedonistic ritual."

"I draw the line at painting my face, though," Shirl said. "I may 
dance, and I may frolic about au naturale, but I am *not* turning 
myself into some kind of Scottish makeover victim!"

Tippi grinned sheepishly. "Well, we have two choices." She held 
up the CD cases. "We have 'The Chipmunks Sing Enya's Greatest 
Hits', or 'Irish Pub Songs, as Sung by the Cast of Star Trek'. Take 
your pick." "CHIPMUNKS!" everyone voted in resounding unison. 
Tippi tossed the Trek CD into the pool. "Anthropomorphic 
yodeling rodents it is, then."

"Think he knows us in his reality?" Tammy asked. Tippi shrugged. 
"I don't know," she said, "but I sure hope this is the only reality 
where I'm dancing around a swimming pool in a flannel sheet."

Laurie realized pretty fast that Amythest knew the basics of 
operating a motorcycle; it was her lack of road manners, 
knowledge, and common sense that concerned her. However here 
in Toronto, she fit right in. 

The vampire chinchilla looked faintly nauseous. Dianne hoped it 
puked scorpion blood and cheese whiz all over Jennie's shoes.

(All in all, the phrase "I bet MacGyver could just do it like *this*" 
was heard rather too frequently for the comfort of the innocent 
bystanders... or, rather, 'innocent bystander'... or, rather, 
'bystander'... or, well, _Chris_.)

"An e-mail from your cat?" Vickie had to laugh at that. "Well, 
there were some spelling errors, but she does spend a fair amount 
of time in front of the computer."

Dear Future Charred Bread Product,

"No!!! No, no butter, no jam, and please, for the love of God, NO 
HONEY!!" Carrie waved her arms frantically, trying to forestall 
the possibility of having any further food products flung at her.

And they attacked, and found it was good. And lo, the credit card 
companies did lament, but they were silenced.

Chris dragged her away before the little Merc Toy could go any 
further. "Don't go there, burn the map, kill anyone who's visited, 
OK?"

"Whoa, Perri, chill. What's with the smack?" Perri turned and 
looked at her Merc Toy, blinking. "Um, well, it's habit. I'm 
supposed to do this. It's been required for the past four Wars."

April and Kira both closed their eyes and cringed. What would this 
ripple do? Turn Cinderella into a llama? Turn April and Kira into 
eighty year old women? Turn everyone on the grounds of the 
mansion into Winnie the Pooh characters? The two women felt a 
tingle as the t/s ripple passed and slowly opened their eyes.

"Why won't anyone stay still when I try to bap them?!" April 
exclaimed before flouncing off in a huff. Her otherwise dramatic 
exit was ruined when she tripped over a brick. "Where the smeg 
are these things coming from?!?"

"Dear Nick. I'm so glad I met you, I wish it could have been for 
longer. If you start flashing this picture around and I hear about it 
somehow I will do whatever it takes to bribe the Lurkers into using 
their tesserect to get me to your dimension so I can exact a terrible 
revenge. You are one of the sweetest men I have ever met. Be 
happy--- Love, Laurey"

"My accent is gone!" she wailed. "And I'm speaking in Canadian 
spellings!"

[Think, think, come on...] Spifff's brain shifted into overdrive. " 
What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in the Deli. You 
can't stay here. I just don't have enought space for a house-ghost, er 
guest. And I, uh, have to make fancy table decorations out of dryer 
lint and corral all those pesky coathangers that bred in the closets 
while I was gone." Spifff waffled feebly.

What do you get when you're a power mad loon Cheese on your 
head and a sore throat by noon

I am not light; I do not shine. I do not love you here or there. I do 
not love you anywhere. I do not love you Perfect Rick because you 
act like such a ... "

Chris was once again bounding with energy and munching on the 
yogurt-covered raisins. Julie was entertaining thoughts of stuffing 
the raisins up his nose. Andrea had a much lower orifice in mind.

Time: After everything else we've written. Thbbt.

Maureen and Betsy, in particular, set out to claim a man in the 
name of Spain, and hadn't come back yet. They were left some 
food, but no ice cream.

"Oh," she moaned, "my doggy-chew toy. My umbrella stand. My 
speed bump. My bursting raisenette. My toothpick holder. Oh, how 
I'll miss you."

Bonnie hesitated. She did not want to risk upsetting the peace they 
had just made, and she was fairly sure telling Teresa that her dog 
had ripped out Vachon's throat, that she had run over Vachon with 
a Jeep, that she had caused Vachon to fall through a plate-glass 
window onto a Convenient Plot Device[tm] which looked 
amazingly like an umbrella, and that she had just staked Vachon 
with a pair of disposable chop-sticks, would definitely upset that 
newly-made peace, although all those incidents had been 
completely accidental. And they had. Really!

[Final verse: all together now!!] 
The loft was full of lots of Nicks, EIEIO, 
And we think that's a nifty trick, EIEIO, 
With a [Nick, Nick] here, and a [Nick, Nick] there, 
Here a [Nick], there a [Nick], everywhere a [Nick, Nick] 
The Knighties stayed in Nick Knight's loft, E... I... E... I... O!!!!!!

Kim clutched the underwear possessively to her chest. "Nothing. 
They're mine now. Mine. *mine*, MINE!!!" she insisted. "I stole 
them fair and square!"

"Raids are great fun, but camel spit is quite unpleasant," Senara 
followed.

***Insert FLASH BACK here, covering both the high & the low 
points of War 8*** "...and that's what happened. Sir." Cousin 
Laurie was quite out of breath.

"Me, me, me. I rule here. Yup, yup, yup. Power, power, power." 

Andrea tilted her head to one side and opened an eye. "You'll have 
to get up to get the gun," she warned. "I will?" It took a few 
moments for this to sink in. "Forget it then. I suppose he can live."

Clutching her bag of supplies tightly to her, the NatPacker hugged 
the wall as she made her way deeper into the domain of the enemy. 
(It seemed like the thing to do, and besides, the wall seemed to be 
fairly stable, which was very reassuring).

*bump* 
*bump* 
*bounce* 
*bounce* 
"AaaaaaahhhhhHHHHH!" One scream, two throats.

"Now would be a good time for a plan." Jill muttered, wishing that 
a convenient Plot Device would show up.

"Boom." Chris blinked at them. "Boom _today_. No boom 
yesterday. No boom tomorrow. Boom *today*."

"Calm down, it's only me," Lizbet said, stepping into the light. 
"Aaaaahhhhh!"

Perri pointed at a shivering bundle of hair planted in one corner of 
the bathtub. It looked as if Cousin It had somehow acquired black 
jeans.

"You mean we're not going to get a tearful 5-part confrontation, 
angst, internal torment, enlightentenment and grand realization 
story?" Boo muttered. 
"Nope!" Dawn upended the box and then chewed on the last bit-o-
heaven. 
"No time this war. You'll have to be satisfied with the 
confrontation and realization stuck-in-the-middle-of-someone-
else's story bit we got right here."

"She's coming out of it." 
"Gimme!" 
"She's recovered," Perri decided.

"So? We could stick our fingers in our pockets and point at them. 
We're Mercs. They'll never believe we're not armed." Chris 
grinned. "Heck, they'll never believe we have less than a grenade 
on us!"

"Breathe," Perri said faintly. 
"Breathe." Lizbet repeated, her eyes riveted on the angelic vision 
before her. 
"Breathe. Good. Now, attack!"

To borrow a phrase: what a screamin' fine ride it's been.

...and it has! Thank you all, and hasta la bye-bye!

Dianne
Dianne la Mercenaire...   -*-   [cat.goddess@pobox.com]
Grand High Poohbah of the Mercs: "Freedom! Chocolate! Mayhem for Profit!"
Vanity Web Page-- http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Lofts/4772/
...stealth...stealth...stealth...stealth...stealth...stealth...*WHAP!*

Comments, complaints, flames, blessings, revelations from the heavens, stakes, dead otters, chocolate, and the like may be sent to Cat.Goddess@pobox.com.