Absofuckinglutely, Deb...sorry after the finale of SATC, have it on the brain. CN is still the only man who could call me "kiddo" and you know, live.

Funny or not? Cause I don't need help making me laugh...and I've got enough stuff to write,
On a Fictional Manhattan Elevator
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We see Detective John Munch starting his day with, well, his usual attitude....standing in the elevator, mumbling about some injustice or other. The elevator stops on a floor and dings. As the door opens, we see Samantha Jones, overdressed as usual. She is debating whether to get on or wait for another elevator.

MUNCH: You know, lady, they stopped issuing invitations for these things years ago...make up your mind...while we’re young.

SAMANTHA: In that case, I’m about...fifteen years too late then. Going down?

MUNCH: Not after that, I’m not.

SAMANTHA: I meant the elevator.

MUNCH: Sure you did, babe. And that’s the face you were born with.

SAMANTHA: Well, it’s mine now. I paid for it.

Hee! Banterlicious.

Second drabble in the elements theme; this time fire.

Fire

There was sunlight in his veins.

It happened fast, the way he'd have imagined, had he given it any thought. A creature of the darkness, of unending night, possessor of a soul that did nothing but hurt, no matter what he did - and here he was, deep underground, and the sun was moving through him like a flash flood of solar flares, uncounted atoms of raw heat under his dead blue skin.

He stood, and laughed, and marvelled, flesh and blood and bone burning away as he channelled the power of the light.

And he saw how it ended.

Wow, deb. You have a way of making powerful moments even more powerful.

Thanks, sj. After all, he did say he wanted to see how it ended....

One final elements drabble, for all of them.

Elemental

It only took a moment to die.

From inhale to exhale, the briefest moment in history - it went like this:

First, the sound of air whistling, surprise, cold steel embedded in the soft toughness of the human heart.

Next, the slow icy burn of the bullet, so small, so infinite in its hurt; the froth of water boiling up in dying lungs.

Finally, the sorry dance of gravity, falling into death, earth to earth.

It takes longer to tell than to feel, to end, to cease to be.

Inhale, exhale, a look of surprise. She never heard Willow screaming.

Just a couple perverts sitting around talking(and getting meta)Maybe I oughta stay out of my stash on weeknights... [link] Should this be in Enablers? Not even close to Buffyverse...And my plural wife demonstrates her tremendous mastery of the drabble form, as always.

Erika, that is hysterical.

I'm glad it's not just me. My favorite part's about the Xmas tree...I'm so meshugge.I thought about having them get together, but comparing notes is funny...and Samantha never gets to keep her clothes on.

comparing notes is funny...and Samantha never gets to keep her clothes on.

Yes, it is funny. Very, very funny, and easy to picture when you write it. But keeping the clothes on is, in Munch's eyes, not a real impediment (S3).