"lime jello duty" Heh.

Hepzibah and Mehitable

Always wanted sister cats named this, but it's Mehitabel. More with the Baynar and Xander. I can take whatever tortures you have in store for the Xan-man, connie, but please don't hurt little Baynar.

Plei, nice moment. Yeah, sweet, but nice.

Well, if you can be dead and be 10-7(out of service, if I never explained it before) Be in prison and be a "Guest of the state" Then I'm guessing you could call a long hospital stay "lime-jello duty"

I'm sure you could call it that. I just thought you--and Kay--were clever for calling it that. I love getting a glimpse of how her head works. You have her rhythms, that part feels almost instinctive, and it's an extrapolation of how Leo played the character as written by whomever. But using what we were shown of the character to illuminate new situations and making Kay more three dimensional than even Leo played her is an art and a gift.

Aw, thank you. Guess we're all getting a little mushy in Buffista Fic today, huh? Damn allergies. She's a great character. Asks a lot of me though...maybe it's some kind of woman-to-woman thing. Don't wanna be a secretary with a gun, though if, say, Allyson, were the secretary, bet she'd have to come up with a different phrase.

Plei always kills me. Then erika resurrects me.

It's my whole "Chuckles" philosophy of fandom, yeah? "A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants." And apparently, sex in public or only semi-private places.

Like I said, your stories were the reason the Munchkin's on his long strange trip now

I guess it's time to start making room for all those toasters I've earned. Yay, me.

Toasters with fangs.

This rooftop scene's taking a long time...

I flip through the report, and, unbelievably, my first thought was disgust that Gordo the Rat-faced Boy almost punched my ticket. Isn’t that stupid? Like it would console my family if the guy who made me 10-7 looked like Pierce Brosnan, huh? I might’ve died with a smile on my face...but that’s a thought for another day. I read about the Glock, all that, but instead of picturing the scene, like at work, I picture one of our late nights at the Wharf Rat. Munchkin was having some grief with some babe...one of many,huh? I tried, as best I could without a lobotomy, to explain what could be her gripe.

Munch said “You’re a credit to your gender, Kay. I’m proud to know you.”

I said “Thank you, Munchkin. “ kind of humoring, hoping to avoid a speech.(If I had known we’d ever have been different species, I might’ve been more patient.)

“I’d do anything for you,” he continued. “I’d take a bullet for you.”

“That’s not gonna happen, Munchkin. You know what you can do for me? Switch to coffee now.”

Damn, I thought, he really did anything for me. Well, me and Stanley.(We do make up about 80% of what the talk shows call his support system, huh?)Other than us, there’s the babe of the week, and a few wannabe artists and writers that also gripe about, well, The Man.

They like black almost as much as he does, and some don’t clean up as nice.I would’ve thought he learned a lesson from Brigitte, but no.

Knowing Pratt was dead lit a fire under me at the hospital. I improved so fast even the doctors, second most skeptical breed since cops and ER nurses, allowed themselves to hope for me. And every day, I was glad Bayliss caught the case and not Pembleton. Pembleton would have hung the Munchkin by his family jewels, just as part of his ongoing plan to put God in the Box, huh? There’s not much room for grey in Frank’s life.

erika, I'm now chewing on the notion that somehow, Munch's lack of self-flagellation over being vamped is somehow connected to the fact that he blew away the guy that ambushed and shot his friends, and his lack of regret over doing that.

Not sure how they're connected but in my head, they totally are.