The End of Finals Spring Programming Special!
WARNING: Contains Disclaimer.
Disclaimer: We, the author, are using the royal “we”. We’d also like to mention that we
hereby renounce, abdicate, and otherwise absolve any pursuant claim or alleged assertion
that says hold a title or ownership of you. You are thus, disclaimed.
Note: May also contain slight amounts of Frappucchinos, tipsy aeromancers, overly
intelligent mustelidae, self-inserts, theoretical physicists and former Soviet premiers, as
well as used-spaceship salesmen in starched suits and fake accents.
Life was peachy was peachy for Kenji Griffin. Never mind that he disliked the
taste of peaches; finals were over, and along with it, his sophomore year of high school.
He sat, recumbent on a sofa with his beverage of choice: a tall glass of iced tea with a
miniature bamboo umbrella. The umbrella was of course, necessary. The couch
belonged to the family of one Lyn Armitage; Kenji’s affirmed best-friend-for-life and
partner in crime, in whose den he sat. Lyndon walked up and tapped him on the back of
the shoulders. “Hey, Kenji, I’m going out to hang with the Palmers. You know The
Rule.” Kenji replied, “Of course.” Lyndon was Lyn’s older brother, five years apart.
The Rule, of course, as Lyn(don) had explained earlier, “Take care of my sister, or else,
after she’s done killing you, I’ll wipe up whatever’s left.”
Lyndon was pushing 6’3” with peculiar red hair—it was naturally red in the most
pure sense of the word—it was a deep red without any trace of orange or brown.
Lyndon, like his sister, went by Lyn. He was technically Lyndon Nevada, while his
younger sister/Kenji’s accomplice was Lyndis Celosia. Peculiar name to be sure. Of
course, Kenji couldn’t complain. His full name was Thomas Kenjiro Griffin, and was
neither a twin nor a second son. He wasn’t even a mythical chimera of lion and eagle.
But then he reminded himself that he had finished finals, and such matters were
totally irrelevant. It had been an…interesting year. Kenji’s ordinary Midwestern
American view of things had been rudely interrupted by the arrival of arcane magic in the
second week of school, after a brief break of several thousand years. Now roughly a
fourth to a fifth of the world now at least-somewhat instinctively wielded a range of
powers that violated the laws of physics in more ways than one. Kenji and Lyn had
found/created a group of friends, set up one of the first legitimate school magic clubs, and
foiled, or at least, revealed the machinations of a cult who had instigated the of-courseirreversible release of magic for their own benefit. Oh, and Kenji had the added bonus of
losing an arm and gaining a significant other. Lyn, likewise, had lost her pride and joy,
her waist-length red hair and was trying to regrow it. Such things were a story to
themselves, and the most surprising thing is amidst all of it the two had managed to
survive their finals.
Kenji noticed his hand getting numb from the glass of iced tea, and consequently
switched it to his left arm, a recent prosthetic replacement. Of course, it went without
saying that it was a very good prosthetic—it used myoelectrics to “guess” what his
nervous system was trying to accomplish, and his friend Nathan had used extensive
amounts of his artificing magic to allow it overcome the current hurdles of weak
miniaturized motors and poor battery life. The “graphite” dark grey shell came without
sensory nerves, meaning that the now-too-cold glass of iced tea registered nothing.
Without further warning, the door opened.
“Kenji! A little help would be nice.” Kenji set his glass of tea down on a coaster
and went to the front door to help Lyn with the groceries. “And what all did you pick
up?” “Just the necessary supplies: lots of soda, chips, dip, and a case of Frappucchin—
os!” Lyn winced as the four-pack of coffee drink went flying from her arms. It stopped
moving a foot above the ground, where Kenji stooped down to pick it up. After all, his
magic specialty consisted of equal amounts of telekinetic and telepathic abilities. “Darn
you and your easily abusable powers!” Kenji ignored her and took the case of drinks to
the kitchen.
“So, Lyn, who all did you invite for this?” “Oh, just a few people.” “A few
people?” “A few people. Oh, and look! I’m up to mullet.” Lyndis took off her black
“+1 Hat” baseball cap to reveal hair that in the back, almost went to the neck of her slim
6’2” frame. A T-shirt which read “Aggro” and a pair of jeans completed her usual look.
The doorbell then took that opportune moment to ring.
Kenji opened the door. “Hey there!” Kenji ignored the young purple-haired man
just barely in his twenties. He was more concerned with the interplanar portal that had
replaced the normal view of the front yard. “So, can I come in?” Kenji blinked.
“Um…sure.” He stood back and let the young man, dressed in a light-grey duster in,
along with the oddly similar woman in similar, but darker-colored grey attire that stood
behind him. The woman spoke up. “Lyn! I’m here! And I brought my brother along!”
Lyn rushed out to greet them as Kenji closed the door. “Hey, Nadia! Long time, no see!
How’s bounty-hunting working out?” “Same as always. So, I heard you finished finals.”
“Sure did.” Kenji looked at the woman, and then at her brother. Both were roughly 5’8”,
with the oddly natural-looking purple hair, and each apparently had one silver and one
lavender. And except for the voices, clothing, and the fact that the girl had a bust, they
might well have been identical twins in Kenji’s eyes. Lyn noticed his back-and-forth
glances. “Kenji, this is Nadia.” “Nadia Morino.” Nadia held out her hand. “And the
excitable one behind me is my older brother, Conrad.” “Cool! A genuine early 21st
century plasma display screen!” Conrad leaped over and onto the couch and examined
the Armitages’ new plasma TV. Kenji shook hands. “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s
mostly a together person, but give him antique technology or movies and he goes nuts.”
She turned to Lyn. “Tonis said he’d be on his way. He was going to tie up a few chores
and then gate here.”
There was a knock at the door. Then another. Yet, no one heard them, because
Conrad had turned on the TV and the accompanying stereo system. It didn’t help that the
current commercial was several notches louder than normal. A third, louder knock was
answered by Nadia, who then stood closest to the door. “Conrad, turn that thing down!”
She opened the door, and looked slightly down. A slight-looking black-haired young
man who was at most 5’2” stood at the door, with an oddly emerald-haired young woman
standing behind him. An interplanar dimensional void stood behind them. “Tonis!
You’re early.” The half-elf nodded. “I got done early and decided to bring Aniel along
with me.” The half-sea elf behind him waved, as the small yet largish black weasel-like
creature on her shoulders looked up and bobbed its head in unison.
Nadia gestured towards Lyn and Kenji. “And I believe I haven’t introduced these
two to you.” “Tonis Aramil Naïlo.” Tonis bowed. “Aniel Tir’end, and Alden, her
familiar.” The sable bowed. Aniel didn’t. “Excuse me, but do you have a cloakroom?”
Lyn opened the closet. Tonis took off his somewhat-plain brown cloak and hung it on an
empty hanger, revealing the bow, quiver, dagger, and sword at his side. Tonis took off
his sword belt and bow sling, leaving his black suede vest over a clean, white jerkin.
Likewise, Aniel removed her crossbow and its accompanying mounting sling. Kenji
blinked. He seemed to be doing it more often than the normal once-every-five-seconds
today.
•
•
•
“Let’s get to down to business, shall we?” Lyn grinned as she held up an
unlabelled gold DVD. “I have here in this disc a wonderful collection of previews for
some of the new shows coming out this season. A Programming Special, if you will.”
“Wait!” Aniel rocketed off the coach and next to Lyn. Alden quickly squirmed to the
top of her head and curled up to perch there. She rummaged through her pockets while
Tonis was busy contemplated the possibility of any greater meaning that could be
extracted from the fact that Lyn stood fourteen inches taller than the girl standing next to
her. “Here we go! You thought you could escape when the last End of Finals Special
was over, but no! It’s quotes time!” Lyn groaned, but dared not turn around, instead
opening up the disc tray.
Aniel cleared her throat: “First up: Classical Mythology notes. Random things
concerning Greco-Roman tales of intrigue:
‘People were lean, mean, and…really hated barley.’
‘Freud is very hydraulic, I know.’
‘Strange little habits…little men with beards following you around, God speaking
through the toaster. I don’t believe it, but my rabbit tells me it makes perfect
sense.’
‘…and Zeus forcibly retired his father with stock options.’
‘Eris…goddess of strife, discord, and general bitchyness.’
‘Athena…she’s more of the goddess of wisdom: arts n’ crafts division.’
‘That’s the primary crop in that part of Greece…dust.’
‘I have a very good memory for things that don’t concern me at all.’
‘There are people like that. You have my permission to hit them.’
‘Jews for Jesus…sounds just about as believable as Hindus for Quetzalcoatl.’
‘I have some growing in my yard…you know, to keep witches away.’
‘There are some genres that just don’t mix. Like Western and Science Fiction.
That never happens.’ [I draw the logo to Trigun in my margin of the notes.]
‘And we all ourselves are the Mysterious Order of the Undecipherable Scroll.
We’re not the Illuminati. We’re not even faintly luminous.’
‘…And they put-him-in-a-box.’
‘…And you even have to ask even old, nasty Uncle Herbert to the wedding.’
‘Going on a journey, going off to war, getting married…any dangerous
undertaking.’
‘And next thing you know, you’re a rat, mole, YMCA secretary…’
‘Where did irons come from? The Greeks never got that far.”
Aniel shuffled pages. “And next up is Japanese History and Culture:
‘Words are just words…and people are crazy.’
‘Well…drunk Marines…children…not a whole lot of difference.’
‘If there’s a kami that rules the Great Plains, it’s either thunderstorm or
ternayders. [Tornado]’
‘I’m vastly under-caffeinated—I can tell.’
‘What’s the Clint Eastwood movie with him as a tent revivalist? ...Well, I know
you’ve all apparently seen it.’
‘I don’t know how some professors do it…meth, probably. How else do they pass
back papers in one day?’
‘But, unfortunately, your apartment is stuck where it is; you can’t move all the
walls around.’
‘I don’t care. Some of your ancestors probably did.’
‘An extra syllable for free, there.’
‘Now a few of you chose the South Oval. I don’t disagree, but jeez people, please
get out more.’
‘Now, I’ll be placing some of these on my secret kami map of the state…’
‘Ohayo Gozaimasu~! Happy Valentine’s Day, or as they say in
Japan…um…Happy Valentine’s Day!’
‘And I’m not saying that Japan Night isn’t a babysitter-worthy event…my wife
decides that.’
‘But, I mean, Genji was like a rock star, or as close as you could get in the Heian
period.’
‘Genji: ‘You know that girl you liked? …yeah, I was banging her for a few
months…and then she died. Oh well.’
‘Whenever I think of the sound of doves, I can’t help but imagine the
accompanying shotgun blast.’
‘Darn it~! We shouldn’t have killed all the librarians…SEARCH THE
WOODS!’
‘TGIK: Thank Goodness It’s Kinobe.’
‘Doesn’t that sound like a Miyazaki film…Nausicaä of the Valley of the Win, My
Neighbor Totoro, and the Captain of Naruto.’
‘He’s the ‘God hates fags’ guy, so apparently, he um…just shows up wherever
there are fags…I guess to remind them.’
[Checks watch.] ‘Oh, wait! I have time for another Daruma story.’
[And now for some Zen Buddhism jokes]
‘What do you get when you cross a Zen priest and a Nebraskan?
…a koan husker.’
‘....a Zen priest and an Irishman?
…surely you’ve heard of Leprekoans?’
‘And if you add a tie to a Daruma, you get a crazed businessman.’
‘Several times, I’ve failed to express the weirdness that is No.’
‘You are free to write on anything from Neolithic times to Hello Kitty.’
‘You might get away with parenthetical references in Anthropology, English, and
all those other pseudosciences.’
‘Meanwhile, I’ll be in China, drinking tea like it’s going out of style.’
‘Sabi? You and a large moose are alone in the woods. Alright, forget the moose.’
‘Seriously, there’s no one who’s taking steroids just to make the next great
teapot.’
‘Not even kind of, but really…’
‘Cause once you left Kyoto, you were in Kansas.’
‘Go to a restaurant—buy your Kabuki tickets, your food, your girls…’
‘Don’t worry. It’s not a fire! We’re just killing your neighbors. Oh, and we’re
not criminals! ...just a vendetta, folks.’
‘There isn’t a sonnet club in rural Montana, but there is a haiku club.’
‘Now, class, you are all converting your assets to gold and .22 caliber bullets,
right?”
“And finally, ‘This is not a voting issue; this is a dictatorial state. I’m the shogun
here.’ There. Done. And only sixty-one quotes this time, you people got easy. And
frankly…” Aniel turned the paper off and examined it. “…these are from last semester.
There’s something here about Alex’s teachers this semester being devoid of senses of
humor.” She smiled as she replaced the double-sided scroll in a pocket. Lyn removed
her earplugs. “Well, kids, I’ve rewired the stereo to accept a 7.1 blue-laser high-density,
high-def DVD. This should be awesome.”
•
•
•
After the THX intro (to which Conrad yelled “I love that!”), everyone took their
respective seats. Tonis took an armchair to the left side, as did Nadia on side across from
him. Aniel, Lyn, Tonis, and Conrad took the couch. A brief title screen read “The EoF
Spring Programming Special: Look for these shows and products coming soon.” Nadia
twinged an eye. “Wait…why is it the spring programming special? It’s already almost
winter.” Kenji shrugged. “They may be talking about next spring.” Tonis looked at him.
“The whole thing is probably moot to me. I’m still marveling too much by the idea of
flameless light and moving pictures with sound to be concerned over any actual content.”
Aniel shrugged. “That’s probably for the best, dear.” Alden bobbed his head, and went
back to being enamored by the blank screen. The silent intro ended.
A familiar red and blue logo appeared over a black background. “In the Criminal
Justice system, sparkly-magic based offences are considered especially heinous. In New
York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these crimes are members of an elite
squad known as the Magical Girls Unit. These are their stories…” Lyn gave the requisite
“What the frick?” as the trailer continued. “Special Agent Sammy, what do you have to
report?” “Well, according to the evidence given to me by partner, Ryo-Ohki, Usagi,
hereafter known as the defendant, was last seen at the corner of Ninth and Fushida,
wherein she attempted to engage in an illegal act by pandering herself and her talking cat
to nearby pretty boys.” The judge frowned. “These are serious charges, especially if the
alleged acts involved sailor fuku.” The scene abruptly changed to an upscale office in a
police department. “Special Investigator Kanazuchi reporting.” The girl wearing a
trench coat and a winged helmet held up her badge. A girl with cat ears and a pendant of
Mew Aqua rolled her eyes. “You’re late, Yuuki. Besides, aren’t you are a boy?”
“Eheh…nope,” to which she quietly added, “not anymore, anyway.” The narrator
boomed again. “These tough, sometimes troubled girls are all that stands between the
depravity of sugar-coated powers and the justice of the courts. Coming soon to MBC,
after SVU.”
Lyn frowned: “I don’t know whether to be disturbed or laughing after
that…perhaps both.” She glanced at Kenji. He was catatonic. “The shoujo…it’s too
much…must have…” A swift backhand to the face solved the problem.
(A different) Narrator: It is the fifteenth century. A time of tribulation, expansion, civil
war, and death. And in this mess, come a group of people dedicated to…having a good
time! Warlord and party-hardy funk-masta’ Oda Nobunaga invites fathers Luis Frois and
Francis Xavier to live with him in his fortress pad, where crazy thing start to happen. Say
hello to ‘Those Crazy Jesuits!’.”
Hideyoshi: Dude, Oda, I’m not hip with these guys. I think they’re trying to subvert us.
Nobunaga: “Toyotomi, my man, chill out. First off, think about how many names you’ve
gone through in the past few years. My head’s spinning just keepin’ track. Just be nice
to them, be cool…”
Narrator: “And dark secrets are revealed…to be hilarious!”
Nobunaga: “…or I’ll tell them...you’re really of peasant birth!”
[Gasps and canned laughter.]
Hideyoshi: “Oh, yeah, well, I’ve got three thumbs. So there! And besides, do I need to
remind people about your little escapades at Nagashino?”
Nobunaga: “I couldn’t help it.”
[Tokugawa Ieyasu walks in.]
Tokugawa: “Hey guys, what’s up? Are those crazy Jesuits still hanging with you guys?”
Nobunaga: “Damn straight, brother. Man…I dig their gunpowder. It’s like
sauce…except instead of soy sauce…it’s awesome sauce.”
Random attendant: “True that, milord.”
[They look to see St. Francis X. walk in.]
Warlords (in unison): “It’s the brother!”
Xavier: “What’s up, guys? You know what I’ve decided, Oda?”
Nobunaga: “What?”
Xavier: “Hideyoshi needs some threads. How can he get the ladies until he’s brought up
to date?”
[Scene transition]
Narrator: “That’s right, folks. On the first episode of Those Crazy Jesuits, it’s time for
Hideyoshi to get up to date before the fashion samurai come and arrest him. We like to
call it ‘Portuguese Eye for the Hideyoshi Guy’.”
Hideyoshi [distressed]: “These…pants things…I can’t get these things on!”
Frois: “Now, now, don’t worry hun. You need to accessorize…maybe a nice Hail Mary
locket and rosary beads. That’ll do the trick! Super.”
[Hideyoshi sweatdrops.]
“Will you quit that, please?” Aniel paused as the screen went to black. “You’ve
been poking me for the last four minutes, now, Lyn.” Lyn’s eyes begged innocence, or at
least, forgiveness. “But…but…your ears are just so…pointy…and cute. I wish mine
were like that.” *poke poke* “That’s it…” Aniel smiled. “And you know what else
you don’t have?” Kenji got up from the sofa and started walking towards the kitchen.
“These. You’re totally flat.” Aniel touched her own chest before she started patting
Lyn’s. Lyn was slightly speechless. Tonis turned to Kenji. “What are you doing?”
Kenji moved his nose a bit as one of his eyelids starting involuntarily twitching in
worriment. “Well, I figured I’d grab myself a Frappucchino…and put up an antimagic
field around the room before anything else happens.” Tonis quickly eyed the situation on
the couch. He pupils vastly contracted down to dots. “Allow me to join you.” Nadia got
up off her chair, yanked her brother off the couch, and using her hands, forcibly separated
the green and red haired women before any further hostilities could result. She then
grabbed Conrad and plucked him down between Aniel and Lyn. Conrad smiled. “I like.”
Nadia rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure if that really was an improvement.” She shrugged,
filched back the remote, and hit play.
[A man in an admiral’s cap, with a large, fuzzy brown beard and a tacky starched shirt
stands with a microphone.]
Gloval: “Have you been missing something? Like a new vehicle? Then come on down
to Crazy Unkel Gloval’s Super Dimensional Macross Mega-Mall, located in the heart of
Macross City on Macross Island, Earth. We have what you’re looking for! And right
now, we’re having the best event of all-time! That’s right, peoples, it’s the first-ever
‘Let’s Rebuild the Planet…Again…’ Sale! Twenty-three percent of the sticker price goes
to help the Zentraedi Foundation for the Arts, because, let’s face it folks, they need the
help. The war’s over, and we’ve got so much in our inventory, we’ve slashed prices for
you, the consumer. Here at the Mega-Mall, we have the full line of quality RDF
vehicles.”
[Henrik Gloval walks as the camera pans to show a brightly-painted aircraft resembling
an F-14 fighter.]
Gloval: “Take a look at this little baby, The VF-1 Valkyrie model A. Starting at just 3.5
million, this is the economy model for those who want the basics. And let me tell you,
we’ve got them covered. Or for the middle-level customer who likes a bit more sport, we
have the VF-1 J, with a bit more pep in the step, so to speak. Now starting at just 3.8.
Or, for sport luxury consumer, we have the top of the line VF-1 S, with all the options as
standard, just 4.2 ’99. You can’t beat deals like this folks! Or, are you looking for the
ultimate in luxury combat Veritech? We have that too!”
[The former admiral walks over to another plane, which looks significantly more
advanced.]
Gloval: “It’s just in, the Stonewell Bellcom VF-4 Lightning III. Look at the sleek curves,
and note the vastly improved agility and additional hardpoints. Now just starting at 8.9
million. You can’t afford to pass up a deal like this! But wait, what about the bells and
whistles, you ask? Crazy Unkel Gloval’s got you covered. Check these out standard
options:”
[A bulleted list appears on the screen as he delineates the list.]
“•ABS/Drogue Chute
•Leather jumpseats (ACESIII Ejector optional)
•Full AC/Heating
•Keyless Entry
•Power locks and canopy
•Boarding Ladder
•Full external/internal hardpoints
•Ventral-mounted GU-11 Autocannon
•One, two, or four head-mounted lasers (model dependent)
•Lens flare generator
•AM/FM Radio”
“Or for upgrades and accessories, check out these:
•Full leather interior
•Chrome weapon/mode selector switches
•CD/R/RW/Mp3CD 5-Disc Changer
•Custom paint schemes, including solid colors, racing stripes, and unit insignia
•AMM-1 ATA/ATS Missiles
•Mark 82 LDGB Laser-guided ground munitions
•RMS-1 Anti-ship Reaction missiles
•And for those who love the Itano Circus-style Macross Missile Massacre antics,
we have the full selection of UMM micro-missile packs.
•“Super” FAST packs, for deep space family trips
•Afraid of dings? Try the GBP-1S Armor packs.”
Gloval: “And remember, we give you a full loadout of DU autocannon ammunition and
an air freshener with every purchase. Be sure to stop by this Saturday or Sunday, for the
Max & Miriya weekend. Those two lovebirds will be here, signing autographs and
photos for the first ten thousand fans. And here at Crazy Unkel Gloval’s Super
Dimensional Macross Mega-Mall, we accept cash, money orders, nuclear warheads,
precious metals, suitcases full of cocaine, gold bullion, and most major credit cards. We
can get a financing option to fit you! Or my name isn’t Crazy Unkel Gloval! And it is!”
[Rick Hunter peers around the corner in an outfit that looks like an airplane suit with a
giant, child-friendly smiley face.]
Rick: “Um, sir…do I really have to wear this?”
Gloval [whispering]: “Lieutenant, wear it, or I shall sic Minmei upon you.”
Rick: “Eep.”
Conrad was in a dazed grin. “I love that show. It’s a bummer those guys had to
resort to that.” His sister shrugged. “Yes, though you have to admit, my Lightning is not
only better than theirs, it follows the laws of physics.” “Yeah, keep that up, and we’ll
have to crown you the Queen of Physics.” Kenji returned with the vanilla flavor of his
preferred beverage, taking a swig from it. “Yeah…we tend to disregard the laws of
physics around here though, so we wouldn’t be under a crown like that.” Conrad nodded.
“Fair enough.”
The telly returned from its black screen to a modest-sized kitchen with white
décor. Snow is visible out behind the windows in the background. Exits are west, east,
and Martha Stewart. A man of above-average height, grey-blue eyes, and black hair tied
into a ponytail stood next to a somewhat-shorter woman with short, slightly miskept
brown hair, green eyes, and perfectly-circular glasses that seemed large to the point of
Xenosaga-esque proportions. Both were wearing aprons. The man smiled. “I’m Merks
Ser-Langsa.” The woman gave a cute thumbs-up to the camera. “And I’m Ren
Asatara~!” “We’re Librarian Explorers, which means we usually scour the ruins of the
earth looking for rare books.” “But we were asked to do a different kind of
looking…we’re scouring the kitchens and dens of the world…for good food…” “…and
good books.”
The pair spoke in unison. “Welcome to Cooking and Booking!!” “So, what do
we have today, Merksie?” Ren hopped up onto the island counter and sat down while
Merks grabbed an outrageously large tome off the floor. “First, we have a warm,
collection of fireside tales, evil cults, and doomed floating cities. It’s Legends of the
Sword Coast: The Tales of Never, Wind By the Fireside, The Shadows of Undrentide, and
The Ghost of Conneyberry, completely unabridged.” Ren nodded with a slight um-hmm.
“And what would go well with a book of Faerunian stories? How about a good beef
burgundy?”
Merks nodded and removed a Pyrex baking dish from the cabinet inside the
island. “It’s a dish that’s easy to make, and good for a cold winter’s night. Now, here,
I’ve gotten an eight-by-eight glass baking dish. First, add one pound of diced stew meat
to the bottom of our dish.” Ren retrieved a covered package and handed it to Merks. He
carefully dumped the beef in. “Next, take one can of your favorite can…” Merks
reached into the cabinet and retrieved a red steel can. “…of cream of mushroom soup.”
Ren stared at the can and whispered a few strange sounding words. The lid glowed
momentarily, unhinged itself, and popped off. Her partner ladled the soup on with a
spatula. “Next, comes the important part…the wine. Depending on your tastes, any red
wine will do even table or cooking wines. Just pour it into the soup can you used to
measure. See anything Ren?” The woman analyzed the x-shaped honeycomb of wines.
“Wait…wait…sweet, we have some Merlot! I’m keeping that…and we’ll use the cheap
Zinfandel over here.” She set the dark tall-necked bottle on the counter. The almostbishounen screwed the lid off and meted out the wine, before pouring it evenly over the
dish. “Next, we’ll take one package of…Ren…” Merks stared at his companion, who
was currently taking a long chug from the bottle of Merlot. She finished swallowing,
gasp for breath, and rubbed her right hand (which contained the bottle of wine) over her
laps. “Exquisite…what?” “Ren…it’s barely past eleven…and you’re chugging good
wine.” “Your point?” Merks’ shoulders fell. “Never mind. As I was saying, we’ll
sprinkle one package of dry onion soup mix over the beef, just to add a bit of flavor.” He
did as such. “That’s all you have to do.” He walked over to the nearby oven. Now, it’s
already on 300 Fahrenheit, so I’ll just get this in…” The door swung down and the dish
found its way to the middle rack. The timer beeped several times as Merks adjusted it.
“…for three hours. And serve over egg noodles, or, for a slightly Almansch flair, over
Spätzle.” “Merks…I’m afraid we have an instance of alcohol abuse. It wasn’t even a
magnum.” Merks blinked repeatedly as Ren, cheeks flushed, shook the empty bottle
upside down. “Right…well, my partner is now doing her best impression of a Christmas
reindeer and that’s all the time we have for…”
It was at that opportune moment that a twenty-something man with blue, tattoolike markings at his temples named Lind Ross, walked in with Izzy Connelly under his
arm. “And that’s when I…what the hell are you people doing in my house!?”
At the scene transition, Aniel surreptitiously turned her head and whispered to the
warm and cozy mustelid on her head. “Alden.” The creature got up and slunk down
until it was perched on her shoulders. She then proceeded to whisper into its ear. The
TV continued its march through the DVD.
“…and that’s why I thought, if Charlton Heston and Tom Selleck can auction
away their arms, why not me?” The man with a small reddish-brown dragon on his
shoulder pondered the question on the other side of the black, flat, glowing box. “That’s
why, as a member of the newly formed Eurden Firearms Foundation, I’ve decided to start
the contest to end all contests. I call it the ‘Win My Spellgun’ contest, because that’s
what it is, really. You, just for entering, could win an ancient techno-magical artifact the
likes of which haven’t even been made for untold centuries. This contest is brought to
you by Lind’s Wing-Be-Gone®, for all those pesky, feathered personal hygiene
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[A very generic woman with anime-styled green hair stands in the middle of a sea of
white plush toys.] “Are you a yuppie, a scuzzy hippie, a beatnik, an emo kid, or even a
politically correct politician? Have you been distressed over the state of plush toys? I
mean, seriously, think of all the cotton and petroleum that go into such things! Well, we
here at CuddlesNMore™ have developed the world’s first environmentally friendly, allnatural plushie! It’s the Podiatrist-Approved™ Hyper-Natural® Baby Harp Seal plushie,
made from real baby harp seals, as well as well as seals from X/1999. So, what’s to
worry? Small fluffy creatures and angst-ridden CLAMP characters come together to
make you this one, incredible toy. Now just $19.95 plus S&H.”
Lyn shook her head. “Okay, that’s just wrong. I do like the idea though.” Kenji
nodded. “I was never really a fan of X, anyhow.” “Yeah, it was never quite Eeeee!”
Kenji raised an eyebrow. “No, I suppose not.” Lyn had gone into a convulsion, as Alden
the sable had crept along the back of the couch and proceeded to crawl down the back of
Lyndis’ shirt. She reached up the back of her black “Aggro”-emblazoned garment and
found the marten, grabbed it, and yanked it out from under her clothing. She turned to
see, in her right hand, a sable being held by the scruff of its neck…and in its mouth, a
plain cotton bra. Lyn turned scarlet. Aniel broke into hysterical laughter and fell off the
sofa.
As soon as she had somewhat recovered, she held up her left hand and mildly
concentrated. Much to her dismay, instead of a sphere of magical fiery death, she was
rewarded with a few clicking sparks that soon vanished. “Kenji!!” He shrugged and
looked at his friend. “I have no idea what you’re yelling at me for. You may, however,
want to know that Brant is behind you.” A suave-yet-obnoxious voice piped up. “And
now one mystery of the universe has indeed been solved, Lyn Armitage does wear a
brassiere…but another mystery of the universe remains…does she really need to?” Lyn
pivoted in place, her face containing a look of utter contempt. There stood a goodlooking and falsely priggish young man, his hand on his chin as if in contemplation of the
deeper aspects of life. Lyn, without saying a word, threw Alden (who still had her
undergarment) at Aniel and quietly strolled to the coat closet. “So, Brant, how exactly
did you get in here?” Brant grinned at Kenji. “Simple…door was unlocked.”
“Actually…it was dead bolted.” “Same difference.”
Lyn opened the closet door and retrieved Tonis’s sword, removing the thin-bladed
mithral hand-and-a-half weapon from its scabbard. She solemnly marched back towards
the living room, clutching the gislagil sword in her right hand, her head tilted just barely
enough for her red hair to totally obscure both her hands. Her face drew to a wide, halfcrazy grin. She looked up and smiled sweetly at Kenji. “Would you mind?” He shook
his head. “Not at all. It’s your house, after all. Although I can magically remove the
bloodstains once you’re done, if that’s what you mean.” Lyn nodded once and reverted
to his previous impression of a murderous psychopath. “Oh Brant~.” She lifted the
sword over her head. Brant twitched and bolted towards the door, Lyn following suit.
Kenji unpaused the DVD player.
[A 1950’s suburban kitchen, but something’s not quite right.]
Narrator [who has a noticeable eastern European accent.]: “In the town of Kiev, Ohio,
there exists the perfect family. One that supports the state and helps the Motherland.”
[A mother, father, and their two sons sit around the table, looking oddly intense.]
Yuri: “So, Valter, how are things at school?”
Jekaterina: “Are you being indoctrinated properly?”
Valter [clearly annoyed]: “Yes, father.”
Yuri: “Watch the attitude mister. The revolution was over ages ago, and we’ll have no
rebelling from you.”
Jekaterina: “And how are you doing, Brezhnev?”
[A young boy, full of energy sits at the table.]
Narrator: “That rascally scamp is Leonid “Brezhnev” Cleaver, a young boy who dreams
about making it to the Politburo.”
Leo: “Well, at school, we talked about invading Europe. Next spring, I’ll think I’m going
to flatten Czechoslovakia!”
Yuri: “Excellent, my boy! Prague needs to be brought down a notch or seven.”
Narrator: “A boy with the Red spunk the country needs.”
Arkady Haskell: “So, what would you say about helping me spray-paint the commissar’s
car?”
Leo: “I will bury you!”
[The scene switches to one of Jekaterina Cleaver and Brezhnev sitting in the kitchen.]
Jekaterina: “Brezhnev, eat your vegetables. The Motherland grew them for you.”
Leo: “I know, mother, but they’re just not…”
Jekaterina: “Quit stallin’ and eat your asparagus!”
[The door suddenly swings open, and an unusually jovial Joseph Stalin walks in.]
Stalin: “Did somebody say ‘Stalin’?”
[The family, in unison]: “Uncle Joe!”
Stalin: “Anyone up for some traditional, non-Capitalist dancing?”
[Stalin jumps up on the table and begins dancing, knocking the place settings off with
Barynya-style squatting as the family sings along.]
Narrator: “Leave it to Brezhnev, coming to a state-controlled and censored television
station near you!”
The screen then changed to a picture of an extremely dour woman in a suit, sitting
in an office chair reminiscent of several commercials offering education of a semidubious nature. “Hello. My name is Saki Rin. I’m dead…but enough about me. What
about you? Are you in what used to my situation? Are hordes of aliens attacking your
primary and secondary schools while an alien-fueled conspiracy probably manipulates
your government, 24/7? So, you want to do something about it? Well, we have the
perfect thing for you. The Shinosaki Memorial Alien-Slaying Correspondence Course
has all you need to know about killing little green men and things with tentacles…or
flesh-rending drills. Learn a variety of fighting styles, weapon skills, and infiltration
techniques, all from the helpful, instructional set. In as little as six weeks, you can be
fighting a doomed one-person impossible war against the invaders.”
The woman silently got up and walked over to a table showing a display of
several pamphlets, DVD’s, charts, maps, and a silenced pistol. “The SMASCC gives you
the means and the know-how to kill off the buggers, and our new version has tips on
avoiding alien brain-jacking and mental assimilation or possession.” Saki opens one of
the pamphlets, featuring a bulleted list of tips:
•Scream
•Kill any infected classmates
•Angst
•Kill yourself
“Remember, we here at the SMASCC want to give you a fighting chance, so call the tollfree number below to ask for your free information guide and for more information on
ordering the course. I would thank you, but I’m dead, remember?”
“Well, that went well.” Lyn wiped the blood out of her eyes. “The jerk actually
gave me some trouble. And his arteries exploding kinda got in my face a bit. Although
the bleeding stopped once I made him internally combust.” Tonis blinked. Aniel
blinked. Nadia blinked. Conrad’s eyes had never left the TV set. Kenji sipped his
Frappucchino, and starting casting a cleansing spell. Lyn sighed. “And knowing Raph,
he’ll probably be hopping and skipping over to the front lawn to resurrect the jerk.”
Kenji shrugged. “That was happens when a white wizard’s in your party and is one of
your close friends. Can you sit down? There’s only like five minutes left on the stupid
disc anyhow.” As Lyn watched the blood automagically off the enchanted blade, she
pondered that statement. “Sure…but, the packaging never said anything about how long
the show was supposed to last. How do you know that?” Lyn sheathed the sword and
closed the coat closet.
Kenji sighed. “Well, you know, I had to break it to you, sis…but I’m psychic.”
Lyn’s shoulders flopped. “Oh…right…yeah…damn you.” Lyn hopped over the couch,
drawing nary a glance from the disturbed or otherwise enthralled guests.
An announcer began to chime in over a background of a mostly dark, dank
cavern, lighted by torches. “Hey there! Are you an Ageless, Faceless, Gender-Neutral,
Culturally-Ambiguous Adventure Person? Are you going to be in the vicinity of the
Great Underground Empire for the Starday, the ninth of Mumberbur through the
eleventh? Then be sure to stop by the 2nd G.U.E. Annual Grue Convention!” The
picture shifted to that of a mostly-dark convention hall. It’s the only convention in
Quendor that celebrates the infamy that is everyone’s favorite, gap-toothed mammal
known for eating discarded detergent bottles and adventurers. Marvel at the new and
updated plans for the Frobozz Light Cannon, now with added Grue repellent sprayers.
Stake your bets or even enter our annual Double Fanucci tournament. Please note that we
will be following the revised rules of the Fanucci Casino Rebuilding Act of 817 GUE,
and we will be suspending the Rules Committee Amendment #493, but having Mithican
ancestry is still highly recommended. And remember, It is pitch black. You are
likely to be eaten by a grue.”
[A somewhat klutzy-looking glasses-wearing elf is standing to a large oak tree. And
oddly enough, she’s wearing the robes of a wizard and yet has a sidesword on a doublewrapped leather belt.]
Ellisul: “Do you have a familiar? Is your familiar a small, slinky carnivorous or
omnivorous mammal? If so, then allow me to take a moment of your time. You see, I
have an ermine named Aruka. And she, like most polecats, is a bit feisty at times. Such
as when she chases a rabbit into its burrow, kills it, eats some of it, and then curls up and
goes to sleep.”
[Footage shows a white weasel munching on a small cottontail before burping and
instantly falling into slumber.]
Ellisul: “Now, normally, you’d need one of these [she holds up a large shovel] to dig the
little jerk out. But thanks to a bit of artificing magic, I’ve come up Ellisul’s Ermine Lead.
It consists of a bracelet for you and a collar for your familiar. Just snap your fingers
and…”
[The spellsword snaps her fingers and a previously-asleep ermine appears elevated eight
feet in midair. It squeals and promptly lands on the top of her hair.]
Ellisul: “Ellisul’s Ermine Lead. Ask for it for your next adventure.”
Tonis ooh-ed. “Sounds like a Christ-mass gift to me.” The screen then grew
dark, and the word “Applause” briefly faded in, shortly followed by white stenciled
letters that said, simply, “ADM”. Kenji and Lyn grinned. Conrad screamed, “There is a
God!!” at the top of his lungs. And there was a good reason why.
Announcer: “Broadcasting around the globe, to several parallel dimensions, we present
one last hurrah to those who love their anime-styled sports brutality entertainment.
Welcome to the ANIME DEATHMATCH: BACK IN ACTION. And in the booth, the
most dynamic duo since Adam West and Burt Ward almost saved the world…Toro
Watanabe and Guy Makihashi!!”
[The camera pans up to the booth.]
Guy: “As he said, I’m Guy Makihashi.”
Toro: “And I’m Toro. Welcome back to sadly, our last episode of the Anime
Deathmatch, after which Vince McAffee will going on a lecture tour of major universities
while Mills Lane will finally be retiring…again. And Trevor Bravo, our long-standing
interviewer and receiver of slaps to the face…well, we’re not exactly sure what mischief
he’ll be up to.”
Guy: “It’s short but sweet tonight. Two one versus one no-holds barred fights to the
death. And now for the rules…”
Toro: “Guy…”
Guy: “What?”
[Toro summons the Excaliborg, a spiked mace/baseball bat that somehow has the
“vorpal” property.]
Guy: “Um…hey…can’t I get off this one time, being as it’s our last time hosting before
pursue our secondary careers and lounge all day in high-rise penthouses?”
Toro: “Humph.” [He tosses the bat back over his head, where it impales a nameless
gaffer.]
Guy: “Thanks man, I really—.”
Toro [holding his old standby Makihashi Masher Mallet]: “Guy no baka!”
Guy: “Ow…”
Toro: “And while my partner finishes convalescing, and before any more stupid
questions can be asked, let’s take a look at tonight’s first match-up. We have a battle of
priggish pretty boys up first: it’s Full Metal Panic’s Atsunobu Hayashimizu versus Excel
Saga’s would-be benevolent dictator of Fukuoka, Japan, Ilpallazo.”
[Guy, having oddly recovered from massive blunt trauma, sits right back up with a grin.]
Guy: “And let’s take a look at those stats, shall we?”
Chairperson Hayashimizu
Ilpallazo
Silver-white hair
Silver-white hair
Thin, silver rimmed glasses
Thin, silver-rimmed glasses
Aloof and mysterious
Aloof and mysterious
Rules a high school
Seeks to rule a city, then the world
Mysterious means of funding
Mysterious means of funding
No no-nonsense attitude
No no-nonsense attitude
1 hyperactive lackey: Kaname
1 hyperactive lackey: Excel
1 odd/serious lackey: Sousuke
1 odd/serious lackey: Elgala
1 quiet/demure lackey: Ren
1 quiet/demure lackey: Hyatt
Guy: “Looks like an obnoxiously close match-up. Toro?”
Toro: “I’ll say. You know, it’s almost like…”
[A pageboy wearing a TDD-1 black baseball hat and a Witch Hunter Robin t-shirt comes
up to Guy and whispers something in his right ear before leaving.]
Guy: “Well, that’s interesting. The first match has unfortunately been cancelled. We
have just been informed that Chairman Hayashimizu and Ilpallazo are in fact, the same
person.”
Toro: “I fiskin’ knew it.”
Guy: “Pardon?”
Toro: “Nothing. Well, it’s time be moving on to our second match, a match up of
faceless, suited G-Men.”
Guy: “That’s right. We’ve got the un-killable digital program Agent Johnson from The
Matrix series and the seemingly omnipresent and nameless G-Man from both Half-Life
games. And let’s look at the stats…”
Toro: “No.”
Guy: “What?”
Toro: “There will be no more of that nonsense. Still, I hope this turns out to be more
exciting than the last Matrix vs. Half-Life match we had.”
Guy: “Oh, the Thomas Anderson versus Gordon Freeman match? I loved that!”
[A flashback shows Guy and Toro looking over the contests.]
Guy: “And see, they’re both seen as messianic figures within their one rights. One seeks
to overthrow the Matrix, the other the Combine, both of which control humanity in an
iron grip. So, you have ‘The One’ versus ‘The One Free Man’. It’s almost poetic in a
way.”
Toro: “Guy.”
Guy: “Yep?”
Toro: “Shut up.”
[The match starts Neo in one corner and Gordon in the other.]
Neo: “Well…I know kung fu!”
Gordon: “…”
[Neo starts an elaborate martial arts routine, his limbs slightly blurring in what appears to
be purely a camera effect.]
Gordon: “…”
[As Neo approaches, Gordon gives his opponent a swift blow to the head with his trusty
crowbar, knocking Neo out cold. The flashback then ends.]
Toro: “It was fun, though. I guess being a downloaded master of kung fu doesn’t stack
up when you’re not in the Matrix and you’re against the only known black belt in the
martial art of crowbar fu.”
Guy: “So, what about this match?”
Toro: “Seems a bit more balanced.”
Guy: “Unless they’re in the Matrix…unless we’re in the Matrix!”
Toro: “Guy no baka!”
Guy: “Oro…”
Toro: “And we’re turning it over to you, Vince.”
[In the ring, Vince McAffee is on his trusty microphone.]
Vince: “Hey guys. It’s nice to do this again. So, in the northeast corner, we have a man
whose stilted speech and ambiguous statements have sent chills down own spine…The
G-Man!”
[The G-Man gives an unearthly grin and adjusts his tie. The crowd cheers as Vince shifts
on his feet.]
Vince: “And in the southwest, the majordomo of Matrix secret mind enforcement, Agent
Johnson!”
[Agent Johnson, on the other hand, does nothing…he doesn’t even breathe. Another half
of the crowd cheers on their favorite.]
Vince: “And with that, I’m turning it over to you, Lane.”
Mills: “Now, listen, the both of you. I want a good, clean, fight between the two of you.
I also want to get out of here in term for the ceremony where they’re naming a
courthouse after me. I know you’re both rule Nazis anyhow, so it shouldn’t be a
problem…and begin!”
[Agent Johnson immediately pulls out a Desert Eagle that couldn’t have possibly fit
inside his jacket. He fires it twice. Both shots are deflected by the G-Man’s plain, brown
briefcase.]
Johnson: “You cannot escape.”
G-Man: “That would be…incorrect. It might be…more…accurate to say that I merely
cannot…attack you…directly.”
[Johnson fires again. The shot goes through the G-Man, leaving no effect whatsoever.
The bullet creates a chip in the concrete wall at the bottom of the stands.]
G-Man: “I can however…do this.”
[The G-Man snaps his fingers. There’s an ethereal sound similar to a capacitor charging
up, followed by a burst of white-orange light that floods the stadium, momentarily
blinding everyone. Green vertical lines can be momentarily seen. When the light fades,
both the G-Man and Agent Johnson are missing entirely.]
Toro: “Well…that was interesting…”
Guy: “And we have Trevor in the locker room. Trevor?”
[Trevor stands in a generic locker room with a balding, white-haired scientist in a lab
coat.]
Trevor: “So, Dr. Kleiner, would exactly happened here?”
Isaac: “Well, if my theories are correct, I believe we have just witnessed a miniaturized,
self-contained variant on a resonance cascade. Quite amazing if I do say so myself. I
mean, the energy conversions along with no clear source…astounding.”
[The camera switches back to the booth.]
Toro: “Right.”
Guy: “Nifty.”
Toro: “Well, we talked with Lane…and the G-Man has officially won the round…we
think.”
Guy: “And from all of us at Anime Deathmatch…”
Toro: “Good night and happy holidays. And I’ll be carrying a crowbar and a shotgun just
in case.”