Oh, man. Kay's going after John?

Dude.

Yeah...don't really know what's gonna happen.

If he bites her? I'll kick his ass.

No doubt...but if he did that, nobody would hate him more than him.

Oh, my - a battle of Munch versus Munch for the soul of Munch?

Do we get interference from a Slayer in here anywhere, do you think? As in Kay, having to take Buffy off to the local Starbucks for the "look, kid..." talk?

Today's drabble theme was success/failure (I suggested it, in fact!).

First entry:

If At First

There is something surreal about stumbling upon dead flesh.

It's worse if the flesh was lately living; cheeks still mantled in the pale rose of scant moments ago, veins still indigo, eyes open as if in surprise, lips still warm. To find dead flesh that, until the breath stopped in lung and throat was the flesh of a loved one, is pure hideous darkness. Natures offers no crueler joke.

Buffy shakes her mother, tries to force her own air into a motionless throat, hears the sickening crack of a rib as she pushes.

Death being what it is, Buffy fails.

A little more... "I hope you find him," Tim says.
"I never thought I'd say this,"I say, "but I hope I find him in bed with a blonde, a brunette, and...their sisters."Somehow, I just couldn't say "redhead". Did Tim notice? He gives an impression of being on a different planet than the rest of us...I hope he was getting messages from the mothership that minute.
"The important thing is not to worry," Tim says.
"Detective, heal thyself," I tell him.
I'm just blown away by the scope of L.A. Precincts. And they've got more light than us...I could solve any case if I could look at the sky from my desk. I feel like I'm in good hands till I meet "my" detective. Detective Lockley looks like she graduated from modeling school...what topless beach did they drag her off of, I wonder. "May I help you?" all flat. Jeez, don't strain yourself, huh? I'm not exactly local.
Maybe I'm keeping her from her manicure or a "cleansing mud pack".
John and I watched this talk show one time where a woman got one...and it just cracked us up. And we were sober, too, it was just comical civilian bullshit. Sometimes, when Russert is..well, being Russert, John will turn to me and whisper "Cleansing mud pack, anyone?" He made me swallow my gum...I would really miss that.

(come on, Kay, flip your Homicide badge and scare the kid)

Okay, Deb broke me. That moment of Buffy...argh.

But erika's got me bouncing in antici-(say it!)PAtion!

Second drabble: success/failure theme.

Closing Holes

There are holes in the sky.

From this rickety tower, the universe appears to be forcing through cracks. Unspeakable fire, fangs and claws and nightmare - this is the stuff that gave earliest humans their concept, their definition, of fear. Beyond those roiling clouds are monsters and they are here, they are coming, riding every drop of blood that drips to the earth far below, from the wounds of a young girl.

Her sister touches her, kisses her, forces a promise from her. She turns, that sister; she leaps, she flies.

And the bleeding wounds become placid sky once again.