Heh. I loved the South Park episode where Timmer leads the heavy metal band with his little crip yelps of "Timmer!!" as they crank riffage behind him. They even released a CD single of it. Genius.

I loved the South Park episode where Timmer leads the heavy metal band with his little crip yelps of "Timmer!!" as they crank riffage behind him.

And the riddle-out and phil collins getting friendly w/ his oscar and stuff?

oh yeah, me too.

So, I opted to do a second drabble, travel-themed.

Mecca

He makes it a pilgrimage.

He starts out walking quickly, just after sunset. He's a fast walker; the soul doesn't affect his speed or strength. Still, it takes two nights each way, and during sunlight hours he sleeps, sheltering in a cave, a slit in the rocks, along the coast.

He walks out of Wolfram and Hart, through Los Angeles, north. Two nights gets him to Malibu, to the redwood house. He peers through the window. Sometimes Connor is there, sometimes he's not.

Every year, for four nights and days, Angel is out of the office. Only Lilah knows why.

When You Are Tired of London

Part nine: Terry’s Day

“A man of a certain age,” thought Terry, in one of the odd monologues that frequently ran through his head, “with a certain degree of freedom and means, can find himself in a position to seek adventure. In one’s teens and twenties, of course, adventure is constantly sought, but at that age, one rarely has either the experience or the resources to fully seize their opportunities.

“By one’s thirties and forties, the search for adventure is eclipsed by life’s responsibilities, the demands of a job and a family. But by one’s fifties, once one is freed of the shackles of marriage and children, and when one has enough financial freedom…well, such a man can savor the pleasures he once considered but was forced to pass over.

“Take, for instance, breaking and entering.”

Buffy, after ascertaining that there was no one watching them, forced upon the locked door to the shop with her shoulder, and stepped inside. Terry, bravado aside, was terrified.

“Dear God, woman! You’re going to get us arrested!” he exclaimed.

“Nah,” she replied, unconcerned. “Whoever ran this place is long gone.”

The shop looked like it had been tossed by looters. Anything that was of value was gone, and papers were strewn across the counter, by the register. Buffy began searching through them.

“Damn it,” she said. “Anything with a name on it’s been taken. There’s shipping invoices. We could probably track something down from that, but…. no. There’ll be something. There’s always something.”

Buffy began sorting through the drawers, and within moments, pulled a set of metal dog tags attached to a chain from one of them.

“Bingo,” said Buffy. “I think we have our culprit, Dr. Watson.”

“Dog tags?” said Terry. “I’m afraid I don’t…”

“I’ll explain later,” she said. “We have to get to Giles.”

Giles and Patrick were sitting in an upscale club. Patrick had ordered them martinis, and passed Giles a cigar, which he declined.

“Since when have you quit smoking?” said Patrick. Giles had long since given up trying to explain that he was, indeed, not James. He sighed, took a sip from his drink, and waited for Buffy. And, he hoped, that Buffy would recognize him.

“That girl’s been eyeing you since we arrived,” said Patrick, nodding toward a lithesome young woman sipping wine near the bar.

“Has she,” said Giles, startled.

Weren’t you talking to her the other day?”

“I…I don’t recall.”

“Well,” said Patrick. “Aren’t you going to buy her a drink?”

“Wouldn’t that be a bit… forward?”

Patrick stared at him in disbelief.

“James, old man, if I didn’t know better, I’d say your smitten.” Patrick waved down a waiter, and instructed him to bring the woman at the bar another of whatever she was drinking. He then pushed Giles in that direction.

“Well,” thought Giles, “If James was talking to her the other night, she may be a lead.”

Of course, he had no idea how was going to go about the talking part. It had been a long time since he was comfortable talking to strange women. He approached the bar tentatively, but the woman’s eyes fixed on him immediately. Suddenly, he felt very hunted.

“James,” said the woman. Her voice was a purr. “I was almost afraid you’d disappeared.” Her hand caressed his arm. “Where have you been?”

“Oh. Around. Here and there. Went out of town to see my cousin.”

“Really?” she said, pulling closer to him. “Is he as much fun as you are?”

“No, no. Right stick in the mud, actually. Nice bloke, though. Very…keen.”

“Hmm. You’ll have to introduce me sometime.” Suddenly, he realized that she was kissing his neck.

“Is something the matter?” She asked. “You seem…tense. Maybe we should find someplace…quieter.”

“Yes! I mean, no. No, I have to wait for some friends.” Suddenly, for one brief moment, Giles could see a definite advantage in being mistaken for James. The woman… he wished he had caught her name, was now massaging his knee. She kissed him again, on the lips this time, and he found himself melting into it. And then someone was tapping on his shoulder.

He turned, to see a very amused-looking Xander and Willow.

“You made it! I was just…”

“We noticed,” said Willow, smiling wickedly.

“Yes, uhm, this is…”

“Caterina,” said the woman, who was smiling rather intently at Xander.

“Have we met?” asked Xander. “You seem familiar.”

Caterina laughed. “James, your friend needs to work on his lines.” She kissed his neck again. “We should be leaving.”

“No, I… I can’t. I… I need to wait for…”

Buffy and Terry entered the room, hurriedly.

“Sorry, G-Man,” said Xander, “but as the soldier-boy said, no more chick pit for you.”

“Giles!” said Buffy. “I think I’ve figured out what’s…who’s she?”

There was a moment of tension as Buffy sized up the woman hanging off of Giles’ shoulder. Xander smoothly wrapped his arm around hers, turned her, and walked her away from the crowd.

“Do you have any idea what’s happening?” said Giles, to Willow.

“Not a clue,” she said.

Terry, who had stopped to talk to Patrick and Gary—who had come in with Xander and Willow—now approached them.

“Typical James,” he said, smoothly. “Hogging the two most beautiful women in the room.”

“James?” said Willow. “No, this is…”

Giles signaled for her to not even bother. She looked at him, and he just shrugged.

“Uhm,” she said, “Wait right here,” and she hurried off to confer with Buffy and Xander.

Giles just gave his cousin’s comrades a confused look, and there was an awkward silence until, moments later, the three young Americans returned.

“James,” said Buffy. “Why don’t we all go back to your place?”

Fun stuff Victor. I can't wait to see how it ends.

A few edits

Terry, bravado aside, was terrified.”

Giles had long since given up trying to explain that he was, indeed, not Patrick.

Not James?

“James, old man, if I didn’t know better, I’d say your smitten.”

You're smitten

“His he as much fun as you are?”

Is he..

Thanks for the edits. I'll fix them tomorrow. Part of the problem is my mouse is broken, and I'm using a wacom tablet. No good with the thing whatsoever. Thus, messy.

Eh. I've been proof reading a lot lately, so things that most people wouldn't see jump out at me.

I imagine they'd be hard to follow for you, with the cross-culturality and not seeing the show.

You're not wrong. It'll be easier, though, when they're finished and I can read them all the way through. 'Tis the way it goes.

Victor, wonderful stuff. I had a list of edits, but Perkins got almost all of them. Only

“Where have you been.”

was left-- question mark at the end?

I can't wait to see what happens next-- and I love the breaking-and-entering section at the start.

Tep, I've got some HLotS we can watch while you're down.

Speaking of which, just came across this small bit of what's essentialyl fan fic from Poppy Z. Brite. BAsically, it's Poppy/South Park creators slash:

My friend Alex Dollard has some Poppy Z. Brite fanfiction. Well, one. I still don't know quite what it/she is.

Victor, I remain fascinated and bemused....

I have only one edit to add

Monologs

Should be 'monologues'