|Our sad little lives, your comic relief.|
It is morning in the Bronze, and few souls are stirring. It is the perfect time for Britney Spears to make her plans for the day's defense against the Bronzers who would try to wrest RTBS from her control.
BS "Oh Ruffy"
RT "Yes oh she who is so lucky, she who is a star"
BS "We need to take stock of where we are today. While I'm the Pop Princess, the Teen Queen, and I always get my way, I am getting a little concerned."
RT "About what my most dear and divine delicious one? You have a grammy nomination. Your friends at NSYNC have a grammy nomination. you're hosting the American Music Awards on Monday. What could possibly concern you"
BS "Well, there's a large number of people who are trying to do harm to you and me. They think we don't belong together. They think you shouldn't be my beck and call boy."
RT "I noticed that. But why do you worry so oh most talented teen temptress"
BS "I'm worried because there are many forces at work against us. Like, the whole Bronze vs. you and me."
RT "What about your dear friend and mine, Melissa Joan Hart?"
BS "She's taking some of the heat off of us by distracting a group of Bronzers who are hoping to torture here into revealing what kind of orb I used to steal your soul."
RT "You stole my soul? How sweet of you."
BS "Those fools in the Bronze think if they figure out what kind of orb it was, that they can restore you."
RT "Now why would they want to do that. Can't they see how happy we are together? How is the weather? Cuz I just can't see me loving nobody but you. For all my-"
BS "Ruffy! Be quiet! I'm thinking. Anyway, thanks to Jon Bly, they'll NEVER figure out what kind of orb it was. Still, their numbers are getting a bit overwhelming."
RT "Don't forget Meg Freaking Ryan!"
BS "She's got her hands full with DarkLady. What I really need is for my dear, sweet, super-smart Ruffy to come up with something that will make sure that no one ever prevents you from being my soulless minion for the rest of time."
RT "If I come up with something, can I give you a manicure AND pedicure with my teeth?"
BS "If I'm in a good mood."
Excited at the prospect of getting to wait literally getting to wait hand and foot on the Pop Princess, RTBS wheels out what looks a British Policeman's Call Box.
RT "I know it looks like a Tardis my quintessential queen, but -"
BS "Did you just call me retarded?"
RT "No, no, I was saying it looks like a Tardis, but it's actually a cloning booth.?
BS "Who are we going to clone?"
RT "Well, I figure 50 of me, 50 of you, and a hundred sword-wielding Meg Freaking Ryans would be good start."
BS "See to it then. I'm going to go work on my Grammy Acceptance Speech and my *accidental* diss of Christina Aguillera when I introduce her at the American Music Awards."
Whistling a happy tune, RTBS begins cranking out the clones. Britneys and Ruffys and Meg Freaking Ryans OH MY!
I think I'm a clone now.
There always seems to be one of me around.
Narrator is reading an item in a Milan, Ohio newspaper, which states that, according to a study, "a person who abandons a taste for classical music in favor of pop may be suffering from dementia."
This could explain RTBS!!
It certainly explains how *NSYNC got nominated for Grammy's Record of the Year.
Psst! Narrator! Milan OH does not have a newspaper. Just an fyi..
Dire circumstances have turned desperate. RTBS is surrounded by himself while Meg f-n Ryan is frozen in time holding a lead... errr... titanium... errr... lead sword above DarkLady's skull. The bartender makes his way around the 50 britney spears eyeing a few of them as they chatter amongst themselves about the grammys. As he reaches the bar, he hears something coming from underneath it. Taking his lightsaber in hand, he looks around the bar and sees Jessica Simpson huddled in a ball rocking back and forth.
"what are you doing?" inquires the bartender refastening his saber to his belt.
"too many brineys. too many britneys." jessica's mumbled chant can hardly be heard over the sea of spears'.
The bartender sighs and extends his hand. The vocal virginal vixen takes belmont's hand then clings to him for dear life.
looks like you've got a growth there," deadguy points.
"huh!? oh. her. yeah. the britneys scare her."
"maybe if you went jedi on their @$$es."
"can't KILL them. that would be wrong. and such a waste."
"there's a thought. but let me get this," belmont waves to jessica simpson clinging to his body, "off of me and do something first."
The jedi bartender lifts jessica off him and places her in a booth. Looking over his shoulder, he senses a disruption in time. The dilations are quickening. Looking at Meg f-n Ryan, he sees that she's beginning to move. Before he has a chance to move, MFR comes down on DarkLady with a powerful blow. belmont waves his hand pushing DL out of the way.
"well. what do we have here?" MFR snorts as her nostrals flares.
"someone you don't want to mess with."
"oh, what if i do?" she states dragging her titatium sword.
"your tortutous death." belmont ignites his lightsaber. The blue light hums with the bartender's movements.
DarkLady awakens from her nightly slumber in time to stop belmont. Gritting her teeth, DL snarls, "she's mine," and leaps at MFR.
"all we need is *nsync to show up," as belmont finishes his sentence Lance Bass enters the Bronze. "great. someone kick him out, please. and those seals. for the love of God, OzLady. no more seals!"
clarrie shivers sadly in the corner, covered from head to toe in the green goo from the red hood's somewhat excessive tag control procedures. She wants to help in the general anti-Britney Spears/pro regaining RTBS's soul activity, who wouldn't? But she's had no time to scroll, a severe lack of original ideas and is continually distracted by nonBronzeness... 'THAT'S IT!' She cries out to no one in particular. 'Goo! Ideas stolen wholesale from half remembered cartoons! Things with no connection whatsoever to the Bronze! Maybe that's the answer,' clarrie gathers herself up, flicking goblets of slime in all directions, 'One must work to one's talents after all....'
Deep In The Bowels Of New Scotland Yard says:
'You realise, Proffesor, that we don't let just anyone down here?' Detective Inspector Judith Lestrade turned to her companion. 'Indeed we rarely even admit the existence of... Excuse me, but what on earth is that dog1 doing here?'
'The, um, the dog?' A high pitched yelping echoed around the deserted corridors, such as might be made by an elderly terrier being kicked savagely from around ones ankles. 'What dog?'
'The dog,' DI Lestrade paused to lift the aging canine by the scruff of the neck, 'that you just kicked savagely from around your ankles Proffesor... I'm sorry would you mind reminding me of your name again?'
'clarrie *cough* that is, Proffesor, um, clarrievinsky from the university of *mumble mumble*, department of, um, para *cough* psychological, socialogical Nsynchronised *mumble* MRCVS, RTBS, RSPB...' clarrie shifted nervously as the dentally challenged hound wheezed in her face. 'wuffles.'
'It's name is, um, wuffles.' Muttered clarrie attempting to evade the police officers eye. 'It appears to have, um, become attached to me from Amish Boy's posts.'
'Proffesor?' Snapped DI Lestrade, 'What the hell is going on here?'
This has been a blatant attempt to draw Amish Boy or possibly Andyourlittledogtoo into my world, which will become clearer in the next post...
1 which is not to be confused with dog, although if she wants in, I'd apreciate the help.
Leather Jacket says:
Meanwhile, back in Milan, Ohio, the team is getting restless because
"Oh?" LJ says dreamily, clearly not listening.
Graham takes LJ's face in his hands ... and LJ rests his hands on Grahams ... and (Graham) says, "Listen to me. Look at my lips and listen to me."
"You have great lips."
Graham sighs. "That's not going to work." He covers LJ's eyes with his hands. "Listen to my voice and hear what I'm saying. We're on a mission! We need to blow something up and I know just how to do it."
Suddenly, LJ's mind clears. "Right! Mission! Blow things up!"
Graham and LJ carefully exit the hummer and LJ uses his speed-dial cell phone to ring up the red hood. He hands the phone to Graham.
"You know that green goo you've got there? Do you know the way to
Meanwhile, back in Milan....
Vanessa woke up to the sound of newspaper rustling. "Hmm... what a comfy pillow this is", she thought to herself, "but somewhat plasticy." She glanced down at it and jumped up. "Ack! It's that evil Britney doll." She then glanced over at the source of the racket.
"So, Narrator, I see you went out and bought a paper or possibly typeset it yourself and gave Milan the world of newsprint for the first time. Did you by chance bring back coffee and donuts?" The group looked at Narrator and waited expectantly.
"Well," Narrator looked up from her paper. "James and went out to breakfast. I can't help it if you all slept in."
"Did you wake us up and ask us if we wanted to go?" asked MeeB (very observantly, I might add).
"Oh. I guess I forgot that part." Narrator smiled knowingly at James.
Suddenly, an explosion was heard not far away (Milan isn't that big, you know).
"What was that?!" Yelled Kristen, clutching the Britney doll.
"Wait a second... where's Closet Buffyholic?" asked Dalia, as she tried to sneak the Britney doll away.
Suddenly, LJ rushed back to the hummer, with Graham in tow.
"Hey guys... has anyone seen that bag I brought along... the one with the explosives in it?" asked Graham.
"You brought explosives? On a trip to Milan. With Closet Buffyholic?" Polgara shook her head.
Far away, in a snow covered wilderness, a heavily bundled figure crunches through a crust covered ground. Pausing for a moment, the figure's head comes up. They seem almost to be listening... An ice encrusted glove moves up to tug at an equally icy face covering. Pulled away from the nose and mouth, a familiar visage comes into view. Sniffing the air lightly, the place where waters meet breaks into a smile.
"There's WITT in the air..." he says, "I must move quickly."
shehawken reaches into his pocket to remove the hidden cell phone. One quick call and his boyz will ride out to fetch him. Feeling nothing but air, shehawken quickly pats down his other pockets then, "Curses! They made me turn the durn thing in when I left work!" Sighing heavily, the place tugs his scarf back in place and starts trudging again. This may take longer than expected...
Leather Jacket: importing the virgins... from Canada or is that just h*tties?
Britneys and Britney-Whipped RTBSs fill the Bronze, milling about in confusion. The clock strikes the hour and all the RTBSs go down upon one knee before a Britney clone and shout as one, "My lifelong obesiance to you, greatest pop star of all time!"
Retching sounds are heard all over the Bronze.
The Real RTBS puts Meg Freakin Ryan into the phone booth and hits a switch. The booth begins to shake, then hop around. Finally it explodes leaving the still frozen MFR standing there, with no clones.
RTBS looks at Britney sheepishly. "I forgot she can't be cloned while not awake. This is a cloning machine, not a transmogrifier."
Britney, none too pleased by this mix up, points towards where DarkLady now stands, looking rather foolish, prepared to battle no one. "Put her back then."
There comes a time in the life of every warrior when she must face her greatest foe. For DarkLady that time has come. She stands, the Green Destiny sword poised in her hand, confronting Meg Freakin Ryan. Yesterday the battle was only to restore the lost soul of RTBS. Today, she will fight both for her friend and loyal subject, and for the freedom of the man of her own destiny, who is living under the thrall of a different tiny blonde.
As the day begins in the Bronze, DL draws in a breath and closes her eyes. Those Bronzers familiar with her dances with CharlieX cringe in anticipation. However, nothing happens to the Bronze. Instead, DL opens her eyes to find herself dressed in loose fitting clothing, appropriate for sword fighting.
She is barely awake when she is shoved by an unseen force out of the way of an oncoming blow. MFR has attempted to gain an early advantage and woken them both. DL sees belmont having a heated exchange with MFR, but she raises her sword and looks at the bartender. "She's mine." belmont nods and goes back to, er, protecting Jessica Simpson.
Both women begin to look around confused. They do not seem to be in the same positions they were in when play was suspended yesterday. Also MFR seems to be holding some sort of curling iron. Hardly have they grasped this fact when the floor beneath DL's feet begins to crumble (she does weigh considerably more than MFR). Her balance is thrown off and she falls through the floor with a loud CRASH. Followed by a yelp that sounds much like, "Oh my JOSS what do we keep down here?"
MFR looks down at the hole where her opponent used to be. She smirks in a way very unbecoming to America's Sweetheart and says dismissively, "Some warrior you were. Russell would've thrown you over in a heartbeat." She tosses her curling iron aside, picks up her new titanium sword, and walks away. A whisper of movement behind her does not make her pause. It should.
Casually, as though she were taking a small step up a staircase, DL appears from the basement. She is dusty and slightly smudged, but calm. She steps onto the Bronze floor and shoots a glare towards Safarigirl, who shrugs. "What, I was helping!" DL inclines her head towards MFR. "She's mine now." The Bronze Jedi nods understandingly and goes to help the others contain Britney while they wait for the return of the Torture Team.
At the sound of her foe's voice, MFR whips around, gaping at her vanquished enemy. A feral light gleams in her eyes.
Conversationally, DL inquires, "How *did* you managed to take Russell's life over? What did he possibly see in you?"
Swords fly through the air, glinting in the growing light of day. The clang of metal against metal reverberates through the Bronze. MFR must have worked with a stunt coordinator at some point in her career. She nearly lands several blows, but DL avoids them.
Over on one of the couches, Lovely Poet and loki wake up. EARS has an arm around each of them, while Brendan and Nick Weschler guard the Roswell writers, who are now duct taped so they can't make any noise. loki looks at LP, "If she kills MFR, would it be justifiable homicide?"
LP responds, "Way beyond. They'd build statues and write hymns."
They battle across the floor. A particularly energetic exchange takes place across a table where Blade and OzLady drink their morning tea unperturbed.
MFR tries to head for higher ground by climbing the winding metal staircase. DL simply walks up the wall and lands ahead of her opponent on the overhead catwalk. They slash at each other, knocking some of the supporting beams to shreds. Part of the catwalk creaks and breaks loose. MFR and some unfortunate patrons who were up above trying to get a good view of the fight go tumbling to the ground. DL floats eerily and lands on the stage, where the overhead projector still sits with Eiddileg's drawing of a fight between Seth Green and NSYNC still shines on the screen. DL gives a great leap across the dance floor and walks on the heads of a dozen or so Britney clones are doing some scary synchronized dance moves, and comes down in the path of her opponent and the fight resumes.
MFR manages to pin the Green Destiny down against the bar. DL removes one hand from the heavy sword and grabs a glass off the bar, smashing MFR's head with it. She then kicks her away and snatches the Green Destiny up and gives chase. An annoyed belmont calls after her, "You're paying for that glass!"
Her enemy having resorted to hand to hand violence, MFR is on the run. She limps towards the other end of the Bronze. DL soars high into the air, catching an errant Calvinball. As she passes, she smoothly dunks it through the basketball hoop attached to the bust of TV James that hangs over the bar, thereby scoring herself 457,3 points.
The white-clad figure of DL comes to a rest before MFR. The point of the Green Destiny is held at her throat. "Give up now and I will spare your life."
Haggard, wheezing and in pain, Meg Freakin Ryan casts a malevolent glare at DL. But she throws down her sword. DL holds her baleful stare for a moment and then lowers the Green Destiny.
"I want you to know that I had nothing against you. This was not personal. But you must understand that he cannot escape his destiny any more than I can. We were bound together long ago and not anyone, not you or even he or I can change that."
"But I'm cute and helpless," MFR whines.
"He's mine. By all the laws of heaven, it is destined to be. Now leave this place and never return here or bother him again. Especially to make him carry your luggage." DL turns her back on her opponent, muttering about wasting good muscle talent on the wrong priorities.
MFR looks at the ground apparently beaten, her hand going inside her baggy-but-still revealing sweater.
Slave2Faith comes up to DL, now wearing her bellsnribbons instead of trapped inside them. The empty case for the Green Destiny hangs over her back. Because she is facing the right way, she sees what DL doesn't.
MFR pulls the deadly curling iron from her clothes and leaps after DL screaming "NEVER!" much like Luke Skywalker towards the end of "Return of the Jedi," but of course not enough to violate international copyright law.
DL begins to whirl around and bring her sword up to block the blow but she is too late. The curling iron is approaching its mark with deadly accuracy when something catches MFR around the waist.
slavey has thrown herself across the Bronze and knocked MFR off her feet. The curling iron falls with a resounding thunk onto the floor.
For a moment no one moves. Then slavey scrambles to her feet. She stands next to DL and they stare down at MFR with measureless contempt.
"Attacking someone's back is not the way of Wudan," DL remarks. "For that there will be punishment." She looks towards loki and gestures. The CIA cell phone comes sailing across the Bronze to her palm. DL makes a call while cats quickly tie MFR up in ribbons (she doesn't get bells).
Shortly thereafter, the Meg Ryan Fan Club comes storming into the Bronze. MFR recoils underneath the ribbons, "NOOOOO!" The MRFC charges towards the prone actress, boosting her up on their shoulders cheering "America's Sweetheart!" MFR wriggles desperately, screaming, "No No No! I'm a serious actress now! I smoked in my last movie! No!" The MRFC ignores her and chants "Do the orgasm scene! Do the orgasm scene!" as they drag MFR away.
DL and slavey watch them leave, with cats curled up in slavey's arms napping. slavey turns to DL. "That was a bit harsh wasn't it?"
"It was more for Russell's sake than mine. And thank you, by the way."
slavey shrugs. "You're better for him anyway."
"I'll just stay here with James," Narrator said. "I've already blowed up Thomas Edison's house. Twice. (With Joss as my witness, I thought it was a Canadian Board Chicken Guardhouse. Or somethin')."
"Nice try," MeeB replied. "You're coming with us."
Eiddileg chimed in: "Where could Closet Buffyholic in Absentia have gotten to? The town is just not that big."
"Maybe not," said The Kristen, "but she shouldn't be trying to make it smaller by blowing up the place."
"I guess we need to find her," added Graham, "once I can get Leather Jacket to concentrate on something besides me."
Thomas Edison says:
Thomas Edison stands baffled outside what once used to be his house. "Again!" he screams, fists in the air. "Again that Narrator has blown up my house!" He throws his Samsonite to the ground and stomps in frustration across the road to his museum, containing several of his inventions. "Just because I invented the phonograph allowing that Britney *pathetic-excuse-for-a-singer* Spears to be able to record her chicken squalking on, MY house gets blowed up." Ok, I don't know why she did it, but this goes with the WITT, work with me people! Thomas Edison stops at the door of his museum as he sees Narrator, Leather Jacket, Graham's lips, MeeB carrying Cate on a stick, The Kristen and Eiddileg standing at the edge of the cemetery down the road. It looks like they're planning their next move. He hears something about explosive goo and clones. Thomas Edison then sees shehawken wandering by and grabs him, pulling him inside. "Come with me son," Edison growls, "I need help"
Deep in the CELLARS of New Scotland Yard (bowels is such a *nasty* word, don't you think?) says:
'And that's exactly how it happened.' clarrie finished her story and held her hands out, an expression of open honesty on her face, a small dog asleep in her arms.or possibly, now I come to think of it, on her shoulder. Unless wuffles is a hoverdog.
'Let me get this straight.' The inspector closes her eyes in disbelief. 'Your planet is dying, and you need my help to... Exactly how stupid do you think I *argh*' DI Lestrade collapses unconscious at the blow from behind, delivered by someone who, and I can't state this clearly enough, was definitely not Catriona (who is not only GONE but would not wish to be involved in such activities were she here). It is the work of moments gag and bind the slumbering policewoman, the work of a few more moments to stand about giggling at the moustache they've drawn on her as she slept.
Regaining their composure the duo spread a map across the floor and began to trace the path to what they had come here for, plotline that clarrie had stolen completely from a cartoon that she saw recently the way in which they hoped to help RTBS, involve their respective countries in the defeat of Britney Spears, get to blow stuff up in cool and unusual ways Their contribution towards the forces of good... Project Beekeeper...
Narrator gets word that she is being wrongfully accused of blowing up Thomas Edison's house. She runs down to the local courthouse to file a suit. (If the place has a newspaper now it has a local courthouse too. WORK WITH ME PEOPLE!!) The defendant: Thomas Edison. Yes, he's dead. But being dead doesn't keep people from voting in certain counties, so why should it keep them from being sued? Of course, there are special issues in suing the dead...
The case is assigned to Judge Henry Bone (who looks a lot like Ray Walston).
"Mr. Edison", Judge intoned, "you can't be accusing someone of blowing up your house without proof."
"But Judge" the dead inventor replied. "She blew it up the last time. It figures she's the one who did it again."
"It wasn't me," Narrator responded.
Just then, a loud BOOM was heard.
"See, it's not me. I'm standing right here!"
The Judge hit both parties with his gavel. "Case dismissed!!" "Narrator, I want you and your group out of this town. I realize that you are doing good work in finding a way to stop Britney Spears, but I want you out of here!!!"
With that, Narrator departs, looking to round up the rest of the Torture Team. Edison also leaves, satisfied with the outcome.
Or is he ......
MeeB and the rest of the ever-growing MJH Torture Team arrive at a burnt out shell of the Milan, OH, school (good thing kids were still on winter break!).
Closet Buffyholic in absentia is dancing gleefully around a big glowing portal type thing emanating from the basement area of the school, which went all 'splody.
"I told you! I told you! I told you this place had some kind of portal-y mystical thing that drew people to it!!"
Narrator (done with her courtroom nonsense for now) and circe gape, while MeeB and Graham, with Leather Jacket standing close very close behind, examine a big console with lots of lights and electronic doo-hickeys all over it.
"Good grief," MeeB cries, "She's freakin' right! If we can figure out how to work this thing, I think it will transport us anywhere we want to go. . . ."
"Like a beach along the Mediterranean?" Leather Jacket and frozenCateonastick both say in unison.
"Yes, like that, but not now," MeeB replies. "We have to get to L.A. and find MJH and torture her for fun to save RTBS."
"Hey, at least L.A. is warm" Cate says satisfactorily.
"But I just came from L.A.," Kristen whines -- you know, intimidatingly and stuff.
"Deal with it. Now if we can just figure out. . . ." MeeB is cut off when Eiddileg enters and, seeing all the purty shiney lights, just jumps at the console. .
"No!!!" Everyone calls in unison. . . .
Before MeeB can stop her, Eiddileg has flipped some switches and *POOF* circe, who was standing closest to the Big Glowing Portal Thingy, has disappeared.
Eiddileg grins sheepishly. "Oops."
Loud clangs echo through the Bronze. Brandishing a new titanium sword, MFR attacks DL in a fight to the death. Lance Bass walks through the crazed Bronze and up to the bar.
"coke, please," he says with a smile to deadguy who's covering the bar as belmont tends to his pseudo-pop princess.
The dead one glares at the naughty knickerbockered nuisance of *nsync and grabs him by the collar. Growling, deadguy heaves the boy band member across the Bronze landing near the bartender.
"the- the- that's lance bass!" studders jessica simpson. Tears begin to stream down her face. "oh my God! it's started!"
"what has? what has?" belmont tries to comfort her.
Jessica turns slowly towards the bartender. Her eyes widen as she speaks, "the rise of britneydom and the fall of pop as we know it!"
"aside from the rise of britneydom, what's so bad about that?" *thwack* "do that again and you'll be laying there next to lance," belmont threatens.
"it's only a matter of time. this place has already gone to hell. it's only a matter of hours before the entire state then the entire country are under her control."
"we are talking about britney spears. the short girl from louisiana, right?"
"she tried this in england. her thing with prince william. you think that was all a lie!? if it weren't for robbie williams and the gallagher brothers, britain would be hers!" The vivacious vocal vixen's words begin to make logical sense to the bartender. The stunned look on his face fades to one of determination. "and the master of this plan is none other than her boyrfriend-"
"no. not just him. all of *nsync!"
A smile grows on belmont's face as he turns to watch lance bass regain consciousness. "RTBS was played? by a minor from Louisiana? oh, this is going to be such a nice day to channel aggression." With a wave of his hand, belmont lifts lance a foot above the ground.
"wait!"shehawken yells. "what if this is all a ploy by jessica simpson to get rid of the competition?"
The bartender turns to the place where waters meet, "i'd expect that from christina aguilera, but not simpson."
"why not? it's the perfect cover. beautiful, wholesome, religious. what more evidence do you need?"
belmont slowly turns to jessica simpson who continues to rock inside the booth mumbling about britney spears. "but it would be so much fun! what if we don't waste 'em. what if we just maime them or something? how about a nice beating?"
"ok. that works,"shehawken shrugs walking away. As he heads back towards Thomas Edison, he notices the rest of *nsync enter the Bronze. 'this should be interesting,' he thinks to himself.
All the other Torture Team members step back. If it can suck in circe in a catsuit, what hope do they have? "I think we need a test subject to see if this thing is safe," Narrator says, after *BAPPING* MeeB for mocking the courtroom drama.
"Fine. But we all hate taking tests," said Eiddileg. "Who do we know still in school?"
Just them Missi happened to pass by on her way back to University of Michigan. The team members exchanged knowing looks.
"They call it maize, I call it corn", Narrator sneered.
.... off went Missi.
... and then back came Missie.
UNDERNEATH New Scotland Yard, no, and I can't state this strongly enough, no bowels involved at an says:
'And that's how you make steel...Oh, we're here.'
A hushed silence falls over clarrie, Not Catriona and Holographic Amish Boy (who, despite being overlooked in the previous installment, was there all along, oh yes indeedy, didn't forget about him at all...) as they enter the echoey chambers that house...Duh Duh Duh... PROJECT BEEKEEPER!
'Question,'Holographic Amish Boy held his hand up politely, 'what exactly is Duh Duh Duh... PROJECT BEEKEEPER! Um, exactly?'
'Yeah,' Not Catriona scratched her head, 'I have to say I'd wondered that too, I mean, Duh Duh Duh... PROJECT BEEKEEPER!? What's with the percussion? And the capitals? And the gratuitous exclamation marks? How, pray, do these help RTBS?'
Not Catriona scowled. 'I have layers.'
clarrie began to inspect a large metal pillar in the middle of the room for a keypad or button or summat, 'Duh Duh Duh... PROJECT BEEKEEPER! May be the only way our respective countries can help defeat the miniskirted menace and her many malodorous minions...'
'You're alliterating again'
'Damn, was I?' There was a gentle click as clarrie found the button or keypad or summat, and the metal skin began to retract from the pillar, revealing a perspex column filled mostly with a viscous amber (but not Amber) liquid.
'Duh Duh Duh... PROJECT BEEKEEPER!' clarrie stood back in awe, 'Suspended in honey for over a century, preserved for the benefit of mankind (under which heading RTBScan loosely claim to fall), the finest mind that ever lived, gentlemen I gi...'
'Ladies and gentlemen, I give you... Mr SHERLOCK HOLMES!'
Holographic Amish Boy turned to stare as Not Catriona collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. 'What's up with her?'
'Ah, yes. I forgot.' clarrie bit at her thumbnail. 'She's a holmesaphobic...'
Missie bounced out of the Portal with a loud "Yay team!", waving her poms poms in the air. Her tiny skirt flared up as she continued to bounce in place, a vacuous smile on her perfectly made up face.
"Hi, I'm Missie with an 'ie', and I like little puppies, long walks in the park, and dancing in the shower!"
You've got to be kidding me," MeeB said, looking stunned. She turned and *bapped* Narrator. "What did you do? Bring Missi back!"
"Fine, alright, but which button is it?" Narrator and MeeB scanned the control panel, desperate to get rid of this hyper cheerleading chick. "Here's a blank one, I wonder what it does." She pressed it, but nothing happened. Vanessa and Eiddileg pushed Missie with an "ie" into the Portal and they pressed the button again, but still nothing.
"Anyone got a pen? Why don't you try writing 'Bring Missi Back' on the button," said a voice from the corner.
"Excuse me, weren't you the one who bought the Pop Tart doll?" Eiddileg asked suspiciously.
"It. Was. A. GIFT! Sheesh."
MeeB looked at Narrator. "Well, nothing else has worked, let's give it a try." She took a felt marker and wrote "Bring Missi Back" on the button, then, with crossed fingers, she pressed it.
Missie with an "ie" disappeared, and was replaced with Missi.
"Thank Joss!" said Eiddileg. "If that girl snapped her gum one more time, Coleman was going to get a new roommate."
Vanessa still looked concerned. "But what about circe?"
"geesh... one minute you're trudging along, trying to hook up with one of the Save RTBS teams and the next you're in Milan. CBinA was right, everyone does get sucked in there... hi Cate! and some inventor guru yanks you inside and makes you help his possibly nefarious plans... makes you wonder what's next."
"Do you always talk this much," Thomas Edison *sigh*ed as he turned away from watching MeeB's MJH Team for a moment.
"Well, umm, no not usually... I was just kind of trying to sum up. So, what's up your sleeve, Doc? I always thought you were taller. *g*"
"Just watch, my boy, and all will become clear in time."
Elsewhere in the UK (where the DVD sets are -- *SOB* -- available says:
Meanwhile, in another part of London, the events in the bowels of Beneath Scotland Yard have not gone unnoticed ....
"Homes? Sherlock Holmes? He's been released? Because of that Pop Tart?"
"I thought if the Spice Girls couldn't draw him out nothing could."
The man slapped his forehead: "Of course!!! I should have realized that the evility has to be concentrated in one girl, not five four girls. How silly of me.
"Well, well, well. Holmes at last. It's time old boy, to meet up with the sinister plans of your old friend, Professor Moriarty.
Safarigirl arrives at the Bronze to find it in an even greater state of mayhem than yesterday, with Britneys multiplying like rabbits, Jessica Simpson catatonic at the bar, 'NSYNC invading, 50 Ruffys swooning for Evil Pop Tarts, and green goo everywhere. Not only that, but there are now rumours of a Discworld incursion via clarrie and dear old Wuffles, the Patrician's dog.
In short, complete pandemonium reigns. The Jedi Master spares a thought for the poor unfortunate Milanese in Ohio, being blowed up even as we speak, then gets to work.
Into the clamour and smoke, incidents and accidents, Sturm und Drang, glides the Torch Song Avatar. The very model of womanly grace and beauty, not to mention musical talent, her face is even more delicate than normal, owing to recent days spent mourning the loss of Riley. In fact, her beauty has a translucent, almost luminescent quality now, a quality that at once contrasts sharply with and yet complements the expression of steely determination Torchy wears.
The Britney clones cower in fear, naturally enough. There is nothing that scares a mediocre singer so much as someone who actually has a voice.
Panicking, One Britney turns to one RTBS. Are they the Real Ones? No one knows for sure...
"Seize her!" Britney(clone) shrieks, her voice cracking up two octaves and back down again. "She's here to destroy us!"
"At once, most worshipful Mistress of Notes!" All the RTBS's, moving in sick synchronization, lunge for the Torch Song Avatar as she wends her way through the crowd.
They never get a step farther. Suddenly they are all airborne, flung to the walls and ceiling of the Bronze.
"Ooh, that smarts!" murmurs deadguy, watching the goings on.
Britney(clone) turns to see Safarigirl standing, legs braced, both arms raised in a flinging gesture.
"YOU!" The Pop Tart Clones all gasp.
The Jedi Master permits a small, satisfied smile to curve her lips.
"Yes, me," she drawls lazily. "Who else? The power of the Force prevails over all. Including white-bread pap/pop culture."
Behind Safarigirl, Torchy has climbed the stage and takes the mic.
"NOOOooooOOOOOoooo!" 50 screams of terror rip from 50 Spearsian throats. 50 pairs of claw-manicured hands grip 50 sets of pert little ears.
Above the crowd, as if in a dream, the Torch Song Avatar opens her mouth and lets her voice curl out over the Bronze like warm, fragrant woodsmoke. She sings all the songs Bronzers love, REAL music, not manufactured synth-pop, backed by a REAL band. She dances not to the music in an overly revealing spangled outfit, but rather sways gently in an elegant dress.
The 50 RTBS's look on aghast as all the Britneys drop to the floor, writhing in agony.
Afeared for the safety of their Dark Mistresses, the soul-lacking RTBS's advance threateningly on Safarigirl. The Jedi Master, looking calm and poised, ignites her lightsaber and swings it in a smooth, semicircular guarding pattern, protecting the TSA.
Beneath Scotland Yard says:
'Um, Question.' Holographic Amish Boy politely raises his hand once again. 'Well, several questions really but sort of connected and...'
'Oh for God's sake, get on with it. I'm trying to defrost um, re-animate uh, unhoneyfy someone here...'
'Okey dokey.' replies Holographic Amish Boy,
a)How are we going to reanimate the still unconscious and suspended in honey *cough* Angelalex242, for the attention of *cough* Sherlock Holmes without attracting attention?
b)How are we going to get out of here without the united forces of the metropolitan police getting, shall we say, a bit snippy with us?
c)What exactly is the science behind preserving a human being in honey anyway?
And finally.' Holographic Amish Boy began to nervously scratch the back of wuffles' neck. 'What is that guy doing standing on NOT Catriona's head?'
Evil Willow says:
Evil Willow comes up from the basement, wiping a trail of blood from her lips. "Dark 'Angel' my leather-clad butt. I know Angel and that latex-clad bimbo was no Dark Angel. Tasted good though." She looks at the Pop Tarts writhing on the ground. "Now THAT's more like it! A whole smorgasbord of Pop Tarts!" Evil Willow moves towards the nearest Pop Tart, her eyes going yellow.
With Missi restored, Vanessa rips the "Bring Missi Back" label off the button and replaces it with a "Bring circe Back" label. With a silent prayer to the gods of WITT, Narrator pushes the button. With a loud *FOOP* circe returns . . . . . clad in a bikini, sunglasses, and half-covered in tanning lotion.
"Hey!! Why'd it get so cold?! And where did Manuel the Cabana Boy go?" circe blinks and looks around, "Dangit! I was just starting to enjoy the French Riviera. You guys couldn't have taken a little longer to figure this thing out? Now I'm going to be darker on one side. . ."
James kindly hands circe her spare Black Leather Catsuit so she doesn't get frostbite, while Kristen points out that the last place mentioned before circe *poofed* was the French Riviera.
"So maybe you just have to say the name, say the name of the place you want to go to and flip the switch Eiddileg flipped. . . ."
The team looks around and then looks at Eiddileg, who has busied herself with drawing more Battle of the Boy Band overheads. She looks up, "What?! You expect me to remember what switch I flipped? Nope, nope. Can't be done. . . . . Unless, maybe I had some cheetos. . . .
Cheesefood's good for the brain cells, you know. . . . "
circe from the portal says:
A tiny voice issues from the portal--it's circe!
"Pssst, this thing s u c k ed me into the meeting from hell! Don't try coming in after me--save yourselves. And get torturing wouldya!"
circe: You say "meeting from hell," I say "tanning on the French Riviera" -- which story do you prefer? *BAP*
Deep in the HEART of New Scotland Yard, yes, that's it, heart, a much nicer organ... says:
'Ack... Are you sure this will work?' clarrie, Holographic Amish Boy and Not Catriona stood ankle deep in honey and held wuffles above the sleeping detective's face.
'Trust me.' Holographic Amish Boy looked determined. 'If anything's going to wake up Sherl...' He paused as clarrie shot a glance at Not Catriona, there's only so long a girl can make denial last for after all, 'If anything's going to wake him up it's a dentallly challenged terrier licking his face. '
'Be quick about it.' clarrie set her jaw grimly. 'My anti-maths gland is acting up, I've a feeling there may be worse enemies at large than Madam Spears.'
'Shut up and get back to work.'
'Woo.' said Not Catriona, who didn't have any lines in this installment and was feeling the strain a little.
The trio fall into a hushed silence is there any other kind? as their canine alarm clock begins to lap at the world famous detective's aqauline profile.
Their hearts skip at the murmur from their hope.
Breath catches in the trio's throat as a langiud hand stretches up to brush the yapping creature away from his face. A pair of cold grey eyes begin to blink open, 'What the?' A high yelp echoes once more around the chambers as Holmes seizes poor Wuffles by the neck. 'I have rid the world of bigger curs than this with less provocation... Mrs Hudson, Watson, would you please...' The great detective stared in astonishment at the people sharing the chamber. 'You are neither of those people.' 'Well duh.'
clarrie glared at Holographic Amish Boy. 'You just said duh to Sherlock Holmes!'
Holmes raised an eyebrow as Not Catriona's unconscious body fell to the ground. 'What's the matter with her?'
Leather Jacket says:
"I'll be the test subject," he says bravely.
"NOOOO!" LJ screams. He dives, grabbing Graham's arm. "You can't do it! It's too dangerous."
Graham turns to look at him. "I have to. This is my job. As a military man - as a hero - it's my duty to take the hard difficult jobs, the dangerous tasks, the risks. And I do it with a smile ... or more like ... well, it's not really a scowl; it's kind of a serious expression ... on my face. This is my duty, to protect the innocent, to be a man."
A tear springs to LJ's eye. "That is the most ... arrogant ... sexist ... chauvinistic ... defamatory ... prejudiced thing I've ever heard."
Vanessa whispers to LJ, "You never know, he might come back in a Speedo."
"Speedo ... mmm... you have a point. But, NO! He might not come back at all. And that would be bad, a bad thing!"
The REAL Princess of Pop says:
The sweet sounds of the one true pop-music Diva are heard to come through the door of the Bronze. As the writhing Britneys fully comprehend what's about to walk through into the Bronze they are terrorized, the only things to come out of their mouths are "We're not worthy! You can have RTBS, we're not worthy!"
The door swings open and the music stops as Debbie Gibson walks in. "You bet your Baby-Doll butt you're not worthy", she exclaims. Keep you bounce and wiggle to yourself from now on honey and I won't have to get medieval on you."
Jack The One-Eyed Dog leaps back up on the bar, his eye catching Debbie's. "Thanks for the heads-up Jack", she says. "I appreciate knowing what those imposters are up to."
With that, Debbie Gibson sashay's out of the Bronze. Her work done.
"Ack! I'm out of cheetos. Who brought the spare bag? I still don't quite remember which switch I flipped." Eiddileg says as she eyes the machine.
The team looks each other warily and then back at Eiddileg.
"Who's going to tell her that the store, you know, the one with the cheetos, got all blowed up?" MeeB whispers.
"Well, I think Kristen should be the one. It was her great idea that we could just pick up extra cheetos in Milan," Vanessa replies.
"*BAP*. I've never been to Milan before. What were you listening to me for?" Kristen shakes her head.
"Owwww. Quit *BAP*ing me. OK. Well, if it's worked twice, it can work again." Vanessa scribbles a label and pops it on the button.
"Bring cheetos? What kind of lame label is that? As if that's going to work." Narrator sighs.
Vanessa presses the button smugly and a huge bag of cheetos appears in the portal. She looks over at Narrator. "Oh, Narrator, wrong again."
Eiddileg, happily scribbling away on her overheads, spies the bag. "Wheeee! More cheetos." As she begins munching away, she murmurs, "Oh yeah... I remember which switch I flipped..."
LJ stands in front of Graham protectively. "Surely there's another way to test this out."
Graham steps up to the portal. It's OK, LJ. Near, far, wherever you are, I believe that the heart does go on."
Everyone groans. "Just send him already!"
"Who said that?" LJ looks around.
Eiddileg flips the switch as LJ takes a breath.
New Scotland Yard/ The Busy Streets of London says:
*FLASHING LIGHTS* AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOGAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!! *FLASHING LIGHTS*
'Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnn' Picking up the still dazed detective and carrying him like a rug clarrie, Holographic Amish Boy and, at the foot end Not Catriona found themselves fleeing the wailing alarms and increasingly angry coppers of New Scotland yard. Thankfully there is an exchange scheme currently in effect between the Metropolitan Police and Sunnydale PD, and they were four foot from the front door before anyone thought to give chase...
'They'll get us! We're doomed!' Not Catriona squealed in panic as they wove their way through the busy, traffic filled, London streets.
'Why did I have to have my arm around the mid section?' Frowned Holographic Amish Boy as they jiggled along the pavement.
'Maybe if we wrap him in newspaper?' clarrie called back at her companions. 'We might be able to at least get to the tube station?'
'You know I'm really quite uncomfortable with being here.' Muttered Holographic Amish Boy under his breath.
'We can't help RTBS from jail can we, if we can just get to...'
'It's alright for you lot, you got the head and feet,' mumbled Holographic Amish Boy, 'You don't have to have your arm around...'
'If you would care to take a left turn here we may all escape safely...' The trio nearly droppped their cargo in shock as Holmes began to speak, 'And my dear boy, I assure you that I am no happier with the position of your hands than you are...'
circe shrugs her shoulders at MeeB. "Well, see there was a meeting from hell on the French Riviera...ah crap--the truth is I was distracted by James' assets again. Clearly, I'm not in my right (or left) mind, so just steer me in the right direction, k? And don't let Eiddileg push any more buttons."
circe goes back to her meeting, uh...to admiring James' assets.
Eiddileg pauses in her thoughtful perusing of the cheeto bag. "So, I was wondering," she asked, of no one in particular, "why, exactly are we torturing MJH again? Because of the 3 name thing?"
Polgara sighed. "Must we do this again? Look, I told you, it's a soul stealing, soul recouping, RTBS being popgurl whipped thing. Eat your cheetos."
"Cuz really" Eiddy persisted, "shouldn't we have a valid cause? I mean, if RTBS is going to let his guard down enough around the princess of pop formerly known as Justin's arm candy Britney..no Christina...no Britney...yes, Britney, then really, that's his issue. If it doesn't involve a diabolical plan to wipe out the world's cheetos supply, it's all good." She held up her hand over MeeB's inevitable protest. "I'm just saying, let's have a cause worth fighting for. Not that RTBS' soul isn't worth a bag of cheetos....you know, a bite size bag and all....but if we're going to go all commando?" she turned to *bap* TheKristen, because everyone knew that snickering coming from her direction had nothing to do with the weather, as she so vehemently insisted. "shouldn't it be for a purpose?"
"A special purpose," asked Dalia, thereby earning herself a righteous *bap*ping.
"Okay then, point here, would be that if we're going after MJH, we're going after her for her most hideous crime against humanity."
Moments of tense silence filled the air as she shooed everyone out of the basement and back into the car. Leather Jacket's whimperings of "What about bailey?" fell on deaf ears. Hey, she has sent the "ie" she had grown so fond of through the portal, he could deal with Bailey being mysteriously not of anywhere. Settling back, munching on cheetos, she waved James Marsters on through the portal. Unless someone posted something different. Then roll with that. It is inconsequential. I have the cheetos.
"Hey, I like Sabrina, I think it's funny" protested circe.
Eiddy sighed. There was just no rational response to this. Picking up her pen, she quickly posted a new transparency on the windshield of the car. Her chilling rendition of "the cheetos have spoken" left them all a bit chilled, and more than a bit disturbed, as the car headed to LA.
Melissa Joan Hart says:
"You know mom ever since i said i'd pose for playboy if the money was right, i've been getting tons of offers Playboy, Pentnhouse, gear. i'll shed my good-girl image for sure, I will not be the next Jennifer Love Hewitt."
"Now Lissy darling," her mother said, "we don't want another jessica biel either.. we have to wait until we can get emily's series off the ground first. then we can start exploiting your other brothers and sisters. Speaking of which.. Paula Hart calls down to the 'writers' dungeon, have yopu hacks finsihed writing the first season yet?
No ma'am we've ripped off all four harry potter books and we're still 5 episodes short.
Then rip off something else i need the stories for my little angel's show to be great.."
"ooh Mom! i just had a brain flash"
"Brain storm dear"
"Whatever. What if one of my homevideos with me and britney got accidentaly stolen, we could make a lot of money..
and look at what it did for pamela lee!"
Again dear a little too early for that, if we need to make money we can justr sell one of the Lance/JC videos..
Their conversation is interupted by emily dashing into the office.. mom lissy, the guards just captured an intruder, In walks two burly security gaurds restraining an upset Graham.
Well well what have we here? Mrs Hart asked.
he just appeard out of a portal in the hallway maam. i think he was looking for you or your daughters.
"Why are you here?' Mrs Hart asked
Graham said nothing
'Silent type huh?' Mrs Hart said as she guided her daughter to start massaging his shoulders..
we have ways of making you talk..
Grahams face was more resolute then ever "you can't tempt me - my heart (among other things) belongs to Leather Jacket
oh really? Paula Hart said? well we'll see about that, take him to the pit of despair!
cue stereotypical evil villaness laughter
MeeB admires Eiddileg's pluck -- or something -- but *BAPs* the cheesefooded one. "We can't go anywhere in a car because we're driving a Hummer, the keys to which you just sent through the portal with James. Eat your cheetos.
Making an executive decision, MeeB starts pushing various MJH team members into the portal, while Narrator pushes the button Eiddileg swore was the right one.
Leather Jacket, circe, Cate, Vanessa, The Kristen, Polgara, Dalia, Closet Buffyholic in Action, and Eiddileg (still munching and FPAing) all go through. That leaves MeeB, Narrator, and Missi. Missi sighs heavily and, seeing as she had to head on to Michigan and evil school, volunteers nobly to stay behind and push the button for them.
Narrator goes through. Then MeeB.
On the other side, MeeB blinks the bright light of the sun out of her eyes and someone handed her sunglasses.
They'd made it. They were in L.A. On a beach. In the sand. The black covert ops clothes were already getting toasty warm.
Leather Jacket is sobbing on The Kristen shoulder because Graham was nowhere to be found. She gives him a piece of cloth from her Britney Doll accessory stash to use as a handkerchief.
Cate, thawing out quite nicely, asks, "What now?"
MeeB looks at the haggard crew and asks, "Anyone know where to find a spoiled rotten star of a bad TV sitcom?"
Deep In The Sewers Beneath London says:
It was a strange scene, in the sewers beneath London, the rumble of the trains in the Underground tunnels around them a constant murmur in the background, Holographic Amish Boy, Not Catriona and clarrie sat in what was, at first glance a Victorian sitting room, a gramaphone record of Bazzini's La Rondes des Lutins played softly in the background, drowning out the drip of the sewers and the hum of the trains.
Holographic Amish Boy and Not Catriona sipped at their cups of tea as clarrie related the sorry history of RTBS's desouling and the rise of Britney Spears and all her ilk. 'And then there were the clones...'
'Hmm..' Holmes stared at the trio over steepled fingertips. 'You say that...'
'We forgot wuffles!' Not Catriona leapt to her feet, spilling her tea and seriously jogging the gramaphone. 'We left him up there on the streets!'
'On the streets?' Holmes calmly crossed the room and pulled a periscope down from the ceiling. 'Their appears to be a young man with some kind of jet pack, which is rapidly running out of fuel I may add, scattering doughnuts.' Holmes eyebrow lifted. 'Can he be trusted to return the hound to us?'
'Indeed.' Holmes let the periscope slide back into the ceiling and returned to his seat, 'Now, if I understand you correctly, you expect me to believe that your friend...'
'Well, we're more wellwishers really, acquantiances perha...' Holographic Amish Boy trailed off under the glare of Not Catriona.
'Your friend,' continued Holmes, 'Has had his 'soul' stolen by this songstress? Who then proceeded to clone herself, using a police box.' Holmes lifted a tea cup to his lips and let out a thin laugh. 'Dear me!'
'Um, question,' Holographic Amish Boy lifted his hand politely, 'You've been, and I don't think I can emphasise this strongly enough, suspended in honey for over a century, and you don't believe us why now?'
'Ah,' Holmes paused uncomfortably, 'Quite.'
Eiddy sighed. Just what kind of Hummer exactly did MeeB think they were driving to LA? She contemplated asking, then thought better of it. Chalk one up to her mother's mostly ignored "there's a time and a place for the definition of 'Hummer'" lectures. They were not wasted Ma.
Allowing MeeB to continue in "bossy" mode, Eiddy eats her cheetos.
circe who's not here says:
circe stops staring at James' assets long enough to say to Eiddileg, "Sabrina? I said *Sabrina* is funny?" You are definitely hallucinating, baybee. Well, unless that was Bizarro circe."
Kristen raises her hand. "Ooh! I do! I do! I applied for a job with the little bitca. And guess who DIDN'T get hired? But I am I bitter?"
"Oh no. Of course not." A chorus of unconvincing voices responds.
"Okay, let's go. Who needs to change out of their catsuits? My apartment is down the block. Of course, most of you will have to wait out in the hall. I have a Maximum Occupancy of two people."
"Hey you once had five people in there." Polgara interjects.
"Yes, but those five people didn't move. Seated I can have 5. But you guys need to change. More than two people and you've got stucco scars in all the wrong places."
Dalia places a consoling arm around Leather Jacket. "Don't worry. I'm sure it will be all right."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Well, Bailey has a last name, right? It's never the guys with last names who get offed in some freakish portal accident. That goes to Bob the Crewman or 4th Ensign from the right."
LJ is not consoled.
A short while later?
A refreshed and energetic Team okay Leather Jacket is still a sobbing emotional wreck and Eiddileg's junk food high is reaching alarming proportions pulls up in their vehicle at the Paramount gate.
"What are we doing at Paramount?" MeeB leans forward in confusion as Kristen nods and smiles at the Paramount gate guard and mysteriously, they get on the lot, no questions asked. "And how did you just do that?"
Kristen waves at the guard and shrugs her shoulders. "I have no freaking clue. I think I must look like someone else. Every time I drive to Paramount now, they just wave me through the gate like I belong here. Which of course, I do."
Narrator also leans forward. It's getting very crowded around Kristen's seat. "Roswell films here! I mean?EARS!"
"We're not going to the Roswell set." Kristen replies as she narrowly avoids hitting Ted Danson in a golf cart.
MeeB agrees. "We're here to save RTBS soul by getting information from that bwitch, MJH."
"Oooh! Wait! Angel films here." Polgara interjects. "We could go?"
"But a little side trip should rejuventae us for our mission." MeeB smoothly changes her tune.
"No. We really couldn't." Kristen responds tersely.
Dalia joins in the chorus of voices. "Yes, we could. And you know just where they are, don't you?" Kristen shakes her head. "C'mon?you can tell us?then we can go find David?" Getting no response, Dalia pulls out the big guns No, not those. Minds OUT of the gutter people. and pops a CD in the stereo.
The sounds of Destiny's Child fill the vehicle. "Say my name, say my name?"
"Now take us to the Angel set."
As Kristen helplessly turns the wheel, knocking over a pair of really annoying mimes rehearsing, Eiddileg looks up from her Cheetos long enough to ask, "Hey does Buffy film here?"
"Darn. I wanted to go burn down the costume department. That would have been nice."
Eiddy, still in a dark place due to her inability to burn down Buffy's wardrobe, turns toward circe and gives her a comforting pat on the head. "it's okay, we still love you. You don't have to hide who you are.
Even if who you are is a freakish Sabrina watcher. We all have our issues. heck, I enjoy a good Saved By the Bell ep every once in a while." circe, looking slightly alarmed, inched her way to the other side of the Hummer.
Leather Jacket, refusing to give up the goat and beating that poor, dead horse, kept insisting loudly that it was "GRAHAM! PEOPLE, HIS H*TTINESS IS NAMED GRAHAM!" TheKristen, temporarily distracted trying to keep MeeB away from the wheel, which she was desperately trying to swing in the direction of the Roswell set, asked Dalia to please appease the man and make him a transparency that clearly stated his name was Graham. Dalia quickly pointed out that it was Eiddy's (who could be muttering "man, i dig that Screech" above the din) job and went back to searching for DB. She had a very important question to ask him.
Olsen twins or doublemint twins?
Deep in the heart of the Paramount lot, somewhere in LA, inside a crowded Hummer, a cellphone begins to ring.
To be more accurate, it plays "I Dream of Jeannie" over and over again in annoying electronic beeps, while the occupants of said Hummer curse and swear, wriggling around, searching under seats and behind things, trying to find the technological nuisance.
Eventually, a sobbing LJ discovers the cellphone wedged between the back seat cushions. He picks it up.
"*whimper*GRAHAM!*whimper...Hello? What? Yeah...whimper*GRAHAM*whimper*" He hands the phone to Kristen, of MeeB, or whoever's currently in charge of the expedition - LJ is far too traumatized to know at this point.
Eiddileg snatches the phone from his trembling hand. "Yes? Oh, it's you...no, I'm not disappointed. I just thought it would be my cheetos supplier, I'm running out. What? You're not sure how long? Why should we care, we're next to the Angel set...oh. All right, all RIGHT! Okay, here."
She hands the phone to Kristen. An irate voice crackles down the line.
"Well, I'm SORRY I didn't realize she was that high on cheetos...yes, ok. We're doing our best. Maybe five more hours, depending how tough a nut MJH is to crack...okay, we'll start with the heavy artillery first - Just do what you can...and don't let RTBS leave the Bronze, okay?"
Pause. More irate crackles.
"What do you mean, which one? There's ONLY one - Oh. Oh dear. Yeah, stand by."
Pressing END, Kristen tosses the phone over the backseat, where it narrowly misses Polgara's ear.
"That was Safarigirl," she announce to the MJH Torture Team. "She says she's not sure how much longer she can hold Britney and the clones at bay, and that the RTBS's have started allowing themselves to be ridden like ponies."
"So he's back to normal, then?" asks MeeB hopefully.
"Heck no. It's Britney and the clones who're riding him, not Evil Willow."
A sudden silence descends in the Hummer, broken only by a quiet *whimper*GRAHAM*whimper*.
Narrator breaks it by grimly stating the obvious:
"We have to hurry. Another hour or two, even euthanasia isn't going to save him."
DL blinks and is restored to her customary black clothing. slavey takes the Green Destiny and does a few acrobatic moves with it before sheathing it safely behind her back. DL turns away from the bizarre sight of slavey playing with a sword, and, cell phone in hand, heads for the bar.
The Torch Song Avatar's singing is working on weakening the Spears Clones in check. They begin to sag towards the floor, as the RTBS clones run around trying to support them. A few continue to try and get past Safarigirl's lightsaber to attack the TSA. The Britneys are on the brink of utter collapse when the NSYNC boys charge onto the dance floor and being their obnoxious trademarked FPA dance. One of them (with scraggly facial hair of some kind) points to the jukebox which starts playing one of their utterly unremarkable songs and the din drowns out the TSA's valiant efforts. She recoils from the pop music and Safarigirl charges onto the stage to catch her before she collapses.
gazoo pops It's head out of the jukebox angrily. "OK, for a fact I can tell you that THAT SONG is not on the approved playlist!" gazoo disappears back into the jukebox and some banging noises can be heard as It tries to stop the music.
DL, slavey and cats sit down at the bar with belmont,shehawken and deadguy. loki and Lovely Poet struggle over, leaving the Roswell boys guarding their writers. Jessica Simpson remains cowering behind the bar. They all watch the Britney clones dancing with the NSYNC boys on the Bronze dance floor in the way that your eyes are forced to look at a mangled corpse at an accident scene. No one wants to look, but they can't avoid the gruesome sight.
"Well, now what?"
A weird distortion appears behind DL and Julian McMahon reappears in the Bronze. His hair is messed up, his shirt is hanging out, and he's sporting several bruises in highly interesting places. DL catches him as he nearly falls over. there's a lot of that going around "Get him something to drink."
"I had to tell you right away," Julian gasps out. "There's a triumverate behind this. Britney/Justin's only one of them." He grabs the glass from belmont and drinks deeply.
belmont leans forward anxiously, "Do you know who the other two are?"
Julian shakes his head. "I couldn't find out. I had to come back...there's a deadline." A cold silence falls on the group. "Some weird complex numerology thing...tomorrow, before 5pm EST, you have to restore RTBS before 5pm tomorrow."
"Why?" asks deadguy, puzzled. "Why at 5pm on the 5th of January, 2001?"
"01-05-01. It adds up to 7." says Safarigirl, limping up with the weakened TSA.shehawken leaps out of his seat and gently drapes his coat over Torchy's shoulders and helps her sit down.
slavey is still confused. "But why-?"
"Seven is a prime number." Julian tells her.
"So?" DL asks.
"It's a bad number, ok? Just run with it." Julian snaps. "Besides, can't you see what's happening?"
They look around. RTBS, all of them, are flitting about happily, spraying the Bronze pink and gold. The lights in the building are becoming brighter. The decor is changing from dark and moody to blindingly tacky.
cats bury their heads in their paws, appalled. slavey murmurs, "It happened so gradually, I didn't even notice."
Julian looks about despairingly. "It's happening outside too. It's becoming a pop star, bubble gum, teenybopper world."
"Alright. That's it then." DL doesn't move, but a fire is kindled in her eyes. She's tired from the battle with Meg Freakin Ryan, but the fighting spirit is still strong. She slams her fist down on the bar, causing everyone to jump. "We're getting rid of these clones, then we're going to imprison Britney and RTBS until the Torture Team gets here with information."
"I only hope they get here in time."
MeeB hastily points out that Eiddileg mis-typed and meant that she was calmly advising The Kristen to steer them away from the Roswell sets.
Just so we're clear.
With Safarigirl's phone call of urgency, The Kristen abandons the sidetrip to the Angel set and heads for the MJH offices. With a few moments to spare, MeeB tells the others she'll be in the back of the Hummer with James. . . . uh. . . "strategizing". . . .
"Is that what they're calling it now?" Dalia mutters, keeping her eyes peeled for DB and CK, should they be wandering the sets. "Let me know if you see Alexis!" Cate calls out from her cramped spot in the middle of the vehicle.
"I do not like Sabrina," circe insists to no one in particular.
Eiddileg munches her cheetos. . . . then asks, "Anyone got any coffee?"
DL leans in conspiratorially to the others. "I have an idea on how to get rid of the RTBS clones, but what about the Britneys? Not to mention those NSYNC brats?"
"Excuse me?" comes a voice from behind them.
Allyson is standing there, holding a CD. "I think this could do the trick."
DL looks at the jewel case and then grins at Allyson. "Bring it on." Then she turns and looks into the disappearing murk of the Bronze. "Where's Cosmic Bob and that link? We need to be ready."
Allyson goes to the jukebox and knocks. A furry paw comes out, takes the CD and disappears.
Moments later the pop music comes to a crashing halt as "R-E-S-P-E-C-T" by the Diva of All Divas, Aretha Franklin, blasts through the Bronze.
The Britney clones grab their heads in agony, and then they....well....*pop*. A fine dust of silicone powder covers the floor. The RTBS clones run towards the muck howling in misery.
"Cosmic, NOW!" yells belmont.
All the RTBS clones turn towards the sound, and Cosmic Bob lifts a laptop with the picture he linked to displayed on the screen. The sight of Aly is too much for all but the real RTBS and the clones explode into puffs of smoke.
As the debris clears, left in the middle of the floor are the real Britney, crying in pain from exposure to real music, and the real, but still soulless, RTBS.
"Get 'em!" yells shehawken, but the NSYNC boys close up ranks around Britney...
who half expects Seth Green to come charging in here ready for battle...
Deep Beneath The streets of London says:
The RTBS Soul Restoration Project: UK Division
The story so far - for children, Americans and others who are obviously easily confused I kid! I kid because I love!
Our plan was to steal Sherlock Holmes from the basement of New Scotland yard, where he was being held suspended in honey, and use his vast brainpower to find a way of restoring RTBS's soul. And, you know, blow stuff up if we get the chance...
Personally, I wouldn't even like to guess what Roman Around is doing though.
Holographic Amish Boy, Not Catriona, Angelalex242 and clarrie sat around coughing gently as the small room began to fill with smoke.
'I'm sure this can't be hygenic.'Holographic Amish Boy pouted, 'He's getting fag ash all over the place.'
'Pipe ash, dear,' corrected clarrie, 'words change their meaning for an international audience.'
Holographic Amish Boy glared unrepentantly at the great detective as he sat, smoking his pipe and staring into the middle distance, 'And he *still* hasn't said anything, not a word...'
'He's thinking, brains,' clarrie shrugged uncertianly, 'logic and that'
'Um, guys...' Not Catriona bit nervously at her thumbnail, 'It's been ever such a long time since he blinked...' She waved her hand past the detectives unresponsive face, 'Uh, did you say he used *logic* to solve problems?'
'Ah,' Realisation dawned upon clarrie's face, 'bugger,' followed by panic...
'Aaaargh...' Holographic Amish Boy wailed as she gripped him nervously by the throat and yelled into his face. 'WE BROKE SHERLOCK HOLMES!!!!!!!!!'
"Well, allrighty then, Eiddileg," circe says with an evil smile, "as long as we're 'not hiding who we are,' let's talk about your Dawson's Creek addiction." Yeah, two can play this incredibly warped game?
MeeBy: Well, there's torture, and then there's torture.
We last left our MJH Torture Team on the Paramount lot ...
"Ok, I just got off the phone with the Bronze," Narrator announces to no one in particular (which is good, because no one in particular has the extra bag of Cheetos), as she turns off her cellphone.
"What's going on?" Closet Buffyholic asks.
"I'm not exactly sure. Apparently there was some cloning thing going on, and a big fight - furniture broken & glass shattered, there was a boy band invasion, and someone being carried out of there screaming, and then Motown was played."
"Just a typical day, then?" Eiddileg inquired.
"Sounds like it to me," THE Kristen said.
"Yea, well, apparently we need to restore RTBS' soul by 5:00 o'clock tomorrow or else," Narrator added.
"WHAT!!" MeeB exclaimed!! "How come?"
"I'm not really sure," Narrator responded. "Apparently DarkLady received a visit from Julian McMahon and he said that the world was going to become a irrevocably contaminated by the Pop Tart if we can't fix things by then."
"How would Julian McMahon know about this?" CB asked. "Oh, I got it. He specializes in the warped mind of the criminal drecks. He works with Shannen Doherty."
And with renewed determination, the MJHTT continues to search for the spoiled self-centered actress. Hard to do in a town full of the. On a lot full of them.
Kristen starts counting heads to make sure they have everyone before they head over to the Witchy HQ. "Hang on. We're missing people. Where's Narrator?" She turns, spying Narrator heading around a corner, and calls out after her. "Where are you going?"
The distant cry of "Ears!" can be heard.
MeeB shakes her head in annoyance. "But he's not even here. He's at the Bronze."
"She said something about him being an alien so he could be in two places at once." All eyes turn to the Cheetos-munching Eiddileg, she glances up from her seemingly bottomless bag. "What? What?"
MeeB snatches the Cheetos bag away. "You knew! You knew she was going try to escape and you didn't tell us."
"Hey, if I don't get to torch the fashions, and I use that word oh so freaking loosely, of Buffy, I don't see why you guys get to beat up the stick figure with the pointy hat. Besides circe knew too."
circe is indignant. "I did not!"
Kristen turns to MeeB for a private confab. "Hmmmm?maybe Eiddileg was right. circe might be a Sabrina-loving-turncoat. She might be conspiring against us. Oooh! Oooh! What if she's the evil mastermind behind all this?"
MeeB blinks at her, unbelieving. "Sure, Oliver Stone, whatever you say."
"OK, maybe I was reaching on that last one." Kristen concedes.
"So what do we do now? Narrator's off to find the ears. Dalia and Polgara don't think that we're noticing the two of them as they creep away to go find David and Christian."
Kristen waves off her concerns. "I'm not worried about the two of them. I know how to get Dalia back here. And just wave a jar of caramel and we've got Polgara back on the team." She turns to Vanessa. "Vanessa, can you please go after the Anti-Stealth ones over there? Just lure Polgara with this."
Vanessa takes the jar of Smucker's Caramel and pops the top. "What about Dalia?"
Kristen snickers. "Oh just give her a message from me." Kristen leans over and whispers in Vanessa's ear. Vanessa steps back, looking somewhat confused, but heads off after them.
"What did you just do?" MeeB asks curiously.
"Dalia fears Tim. She once tried to crawl under a desk to flee him. I told Vanessa to tell her that Tim is inside with David and Christian. She'll be back here in 2.2 seconds like the hounds of hell are on her ta il. The real question is what to do about Narrator? I vote we just leave her a note. She can meet up with us after she realizes that there aren't any hotties at the Roswell set."
MeeB concurs and Eiddileg starts making a note, grumbling about the lack of glitter, as Dalia runs screaming back to the others. Vanessa follows close behind with Polgara trying to grab the caramel jar from her.
As everyone starts heading back across the lot to find MJH, Eiddileg hangs her masterpiece. Written in flowery handwriting, complete with drawings of torture scenes, the sign reads:
"Gone to burn witch. Meet us in front of the Commissary in two hours."
The Bowls of Paramount says:
The continuing saga of the RTBS Soul Restoration Project:
Deep within the bowls of Paramount, in the basement below the offices of Melissa Joan Hart and her mother, there is a sturdy green wooden staircase. At the top of the stairs, a door opens and light spills into the room. Two men in security guard uniforms appear at the top of the stairs, each cradling a shoe in one arm. As they come down the stairs, the shoes are attached to legs, dressed in black. Another two security guards have their arms tightly around those legs.
The voice of Paula Hart can be heard from above, "Hold him still!" She screeches, "You at the waist, no FONDLING!"
Sure enough, there's another pair of security guards, each with both arms wrapped around the man's waist and another two pair of security guards gripping each of his arms. The last security guard is holding the man's neck, with a black hood covering his face. They carry the man down the stairs. Paula and Melissa Joan Hart follow their guards down the stairs.
"Put him in the chair," Paula Hart says, "And try not to damage him."
The guards do as they're told, but once the man is in the chair, they loosen their grip and he bursts past them. Pulling the black hood off his head, Graham, the Initiative h*ttie, races for the stairs. The guards give chase and one grabs Graham's foot, tripping him on the stairs. Graham kicks the guard's head and climbs further, but two more guards have grabbed his legs and pull him down. His chin slams on a step.
"I said, 'Don't damage the body!' and I mean it!" Mrs. Hart yells.
A nightstick comes crashing down on Graham's ear and he blacks out. The team of security guards put him back in the upholstered chair. Opening the sides of the chair, they retrieve a set of manacles and secure his wrists and ankles to the chair. A guard slips his hands along Graham's side...
"I also said, 'no fondling!' you moron!"
... the guard pulls a metal strip out of the chair, wraps it around Graham's chest and secures it back to the chair on the other side.
The Bowls of Paramount says:
The continuing saga of the RTBS Soul Restoration Project:
Still deep within the bowls of Paramount, in the basement below the offices of Melissa Joan Hart and her mother, Graham Miller, Initiative ... er, sorry ... ex-Initiative h*ttie Marine Private has been manacled to an upholstered chair. Melissa Joan Hart sits comfortably on a stool behind the chair, seemingly just out of reach, as her mother, Paula Hart, who may or may not be an evil mastermind (wouldn't that require a mind to begin with?) paces in front of our demon-slaying stud. Every time Mrs. Hart turns away from Graham (to turn in the pacing), Melissa reaches over to tousle Graham's hair. Graham tries to pull away each time. And each time Mrs. Hart can actually see Graham, her daughter's hands are at her sides.
"Why should that no-talent Pop Tart have her own RTBS when I'm left with nothing?" Mrs. Hart cackles. "Well, that won't be a problem now, will it?"
Graham fixes her with a cold stare. "You will never have me."
Mrs. Hart raises an eyebrow. "No? Ya think? You think your heart belongs to this Leather Jacket? Well, I'm sure it looks good on you -"
"That's Leather Jacket," Graham corrects, stiffling the "bitca" that should have followed, "And you're not worthy to iron his form-fitting t-shirts!"
The evil woman cackles once more, "Oh, I see. Well, then it's not your heart he owns, it's your ..." she fixes her gaze on Graham's belt buckle. "... brain. I was going to say 'brain'. Get your mind out of the gutter. Or, better yet, let me do that for you." She turns to her daughter. "Melissa Joan Hart, the videos!"
"What?" Graham's eyes gape. "What are you going to do?"
MJH jumps off the stool and comes around the chair, sitting on one of the arms -- of the chair, *sheesh*. Still, her mother clears her throat loudly and MJH jumps off. "See these vidoes?" she asks, producing a tall stack, "They're the complete works of the Olsen Twins." She tosses one on Graham's lap. "Mary Kate." She tosses another. "Ashley. They're not just one person, you know. It's not Mary-Kate-Ashley Olsen, it's Mary Kate and Ashley..."
Madame de Hart clears her throat again.
"And it's not just Full House, either. We've got movies. Lots and lots of movies." MJH leans in to Graham. "And you're going to watch them all."
"You sick fiends!" Graham sputters bravely, "It doesn't matter. No matter how much mindless pabulum and drivel you throw at me, you won't ever have my soul. You can show your freakishly flaccid film-fest all you want, but that doesn't mean I'm going to watch."
"Don't you use alliteration with me, you hack!" MJH laughs as she pushes the video into a player.
"No quoting quality programming," Mrs. Hart scolds.
A man can only keep his eyes shut for so long and even closed eyes can't keep that wretched sugary dialog out of his ears. Deep in the bowels of Paramount, after hours upon hours, Hey! I know it's been minutes upon minutes, but the writer is going to have to go to bed! Sheesh! Graham's left eye opens, then his right. He tries to turn his head away, but what's in front of him is so horrible, so evil, so insidious, like no demon he's ever seen. He's drawn to the television when suddenly, his jaw drops.
"That's ... that's ..." he trails off.
"Hideous?" Mrs. Hart asks, "Evil? Horrible? Insidious?" She laughs the deep, evil laugh of the megalomaniac.
"Me," Graham says quietly, eyes wide.
MJH giggles uncontrollably. "Billboard Dad," she explains, "Featuring one Bailey Chase as ... get this ... 'lifeguard'. Hee hee!"
Mrs. Hart smacks her daughter. "OW!"
"The character's name is Brad Thomas." Mrs. Hart turns to Graham, "The resemblance is uncanny, isn't it."
"Yeah," Graham tilts his head slightly to better see the man in the movie, and a small amount of brain dribbles out his ear.
And, you know, someone could have nicely, politely mentioned that we're in the bowels of Paramount, not the bowls of Paramount. Clearly, I've watched too much college football.
RTBS and his best friend Britney says:
The *REAL* RTBS is slowly picking his way through the complete mess that the Bronze has become. There are a few RTBS clones still around, and some Meg Freaking Ryan Britney clones as well. Most have either been destroyed, collected by other Bronzers or sold on eBay. RTBS walks up to one of the few Britneys still in the Bronze and give the code word.
RT - "Bulldog!"
BS - "Chesty!"
RT - "Oh I KNEW it was you my precious pop princess. Does the current situation please you?"
BS - "Not really. I saw Justin Timberlake macking on one of my clones. I told him it wasn't the real me and he said 'like I care!'
RT - "You want I should take him outside? Kick the sh*t out of him?"
BS - "No. We have to prepare for tomorrow. Big day you know.
RT - "What are we doing tomorrow?"
BS - "The same thing I dream of doing every day Ruffy. TAKING OVER THE WORLD!!!"
RT - "But I thought you weren't pleased with today's events my moody mistress"
BS - "Ah, but Melissa Joan Hart and her mother have captured Graham Miller. After several hours of watching every single piece of TV, Movie and video ever recorded by the Olsen Twins, he will be on OUR side. That ought to throw the Bronze in enough disarray just trying to console Leather Jacket that it will be 5 p.m. before anyone even realizes it."
RT - "What's at 5 p.m.?"
BS - "My ASCENSION to QUEEN of the Universe and beyond!!!! Then at 5:15 you've got to drive me to dress rehearsal for the American Movie Awards."
RT - "Sure thing, but I was just wondering, you know, after you become queen of the Universe and beyond, I was thinking maybe I could have just a small place somewhere that I could call my own? Not that I deserve it mind you, because I am not worthy of even standing in your shadow, but maybe something small like Ruffyburg, or RTBSland?"
BS - "Ruffyburg? RUFFYBURG?"
RT - "I heard you tell Melissa Joan Hart you were going to let her have Neptune!"
Ruffy cowers before Britney as she snaps her fingers. "I've got IT! Bring me a cell!"
RT - "Oh yes, my most magnificent malificent. Put me in a dark cell where I belong and don't feed me until -"
BS - "I meant a cell phone you idiot! I have a plan on how to make my ascension all but guaranteed!" Come on, just a bit further, big boy - there's still another round left in this romp!