Still the Munchkin's POV
“Could you get what you’re looking for, so we could just go? I’ve been pinched, squeezed and I think sucked by tentacles...what has my life come to that I’m praying for tentacles?”
“Well, Detective,” I say, trying to distance myself from the tantalizing glimpses of white flesh visible from her cleavage. “these are lawyers...I doubt ‘destroy democracy’ is on a sticky note in the conference room.” Kay’s heart is in there, I tell myself. That same strong heart they picked the bullet fragment from. But then, I remember I’m a vampire, and that same heart just pulsates with blood. Damn it, Howard, you’ve got me coming and coming here.
“Kay, if you don’t think you can handle it...” I say, both being soft and baiting her. I lean against the wall like a smoke break in high school.
“Of course, I can handle it! I’d like to kick all their asses...but that’d just...just...” And she sputters, and her chest heaves. I take an unneeded deep breath.
“Encourage them,” I prompt.
“No, no, that’s not it.”
“Yes, Mistress. Whatever you want, Mistress.”
”Will you shut up before I put a foot up your demon ass?”
“I see what you mean,” I say, dryly. “This really is a big stretch for you.”
I look over to gauge her reaction, as I always do, even when I fake that I don’t. I’m confused by the silence and absence of projectiles. Her shoulders are shaking and she won’t look at me. “My God, Kay...are you crying?”
Silence means yes, when we get emotional. But she takes a beat, says “No.”
“That pollution must get everywhere, babe. And you used to complain about the smell of Balmer.”
“I called you a demon, John. A demon.” She still looks stricken, though she is trying her damnedest to cover, and I don’t want her to know it wasn’t perfect. Unbelievable. She grieves for me.She, who should be in a seperate phylum from me altogether, thinks humanity lost something when it lost John Munch. Heavy, as we used to say. A vain little voice tells me this makes it all worth it.
“I think I am a demon, Kay. Or some kind of weird hybrid...my research hasn’t been conclusive...I suspect a conspiracy.”
“And the Pope’s Catholic, huh?”
“Rumor has it. But I don’t believe anything he says either.”
“I know what I was gonna say now. I remembered.”
”I’m all ears...well, not all.”
“Yeah, yeah.’ I could kick their asses but it would give them a happy.’”
“A happy what?”
“You know, a thrill...visit to Orgasm Country.”
“I used to want a time-share there. But you better get home before you forget how to speak.”
“That’ll never happen. Hon. But Cordy-talk does get contagious.”Kay sniffles, despite herself.
“Would it totally screw up your reputation to carry your own Kleenex?”
“Where, in this rig?”
“Oh, well, here.” I say and hand her one.
“But I thought vampires didn’t...well, couldn’t...you know.”
“Your theory about my secretions is right on target, Detective. Gee would be impressed. If I concentrate really hard, I can squeeze out sympathy tears, which might’ve saved my second marriage.”
Just a little more.
“So, what’s with the tissues, huh?” She gives me her “Don’t kid a kidder look.” Which is fearsome even when accompanied by suspicious facial pinkness, smeared make-up, and the Amazing Killer Breasts.
“As often as I make women cry? You’re kidding, right?” I shrug, putting on a show of how OK everything is. I came this close to being the grieving one. Twice. One miracle belongs to the OR at Hopkins. But I’ll take the credit for this one.
“If anyone asks, I’m denying it..” she says, grimly applying more lipstick. It’s still sexy, even if she does it like she’s adjusting the Kevlar(which, incidentally, was absolute shit in her particular case, but thinking about that pisses me off all over again, so I won’t. My anger’s a lot more dangerous now.)
“Tell me something I don’t know.” There’s a little silence that gets weird. Kay looks at me like she’s broken again. I have to say something. “It’s not so bad, Kay.”
“What? This party? Yes, it is, I was offered $1000 to pelt a demon with grasshoppers. And I thought about taking it.”
“Not that...although that makes me think you may be in the wrong business. I mean undeath...I wasn’t exactly the best at being human.”
“Now, Munchkin, I know it’s hard, but quit talking crazy, huh? You are a fine human, and I work for God and have no business pelting anything with bugs.”
Just because a heart doesn’t beat doesn’t mean it can’t break. “Kay, how do you do it? Keep believing that humanity works...that it sets the highest standard, with all we’ve seen. All I’ve done.”She would never have accepted Lilah’s dirty money, not even for a minute.
“That’s where we’re different Munchkin...you analyze everything. I just put one foot in front of the other, right? Take it one step at a time.”
Erika, this is so amazing. I love their dialogue.
Thanks. Me too.(On the show, I mean. I'm glad I captured something so close to my heart.) Thought about adding one of those Munch pauses that substitute for "and by ---- I mean porn," but I think I meant it the way I said.
There's lots of Xander in the Munchkin...not just TimIand no thank you, Mutant Plot Bunny, we're stocked up here, OK, babe? Just hop on down the bunny trail.)
Although at one time, before Kay in LA became such a force, I considered writing a "Homicide" Restless Was gonna call it "Redball" but I took a pill and the urge passed. But I'd still read it, if somebody else wrote one.
Um, not going there. I'm trying to figure out my next vid project. I have 20 days before my shareware becomes payware.
This weeks open on Sunday theme is sex.
This one, speaks for itself.
The Burn of Memory
Buffy remembers.
In bed beside a gently snoring Riley, her legs wrapped around the steel-drum tautness of Spike's thighs, she remembered then, too.
She remembers dark eyes, an average brow not quite ridging up as he slid into her. He wanted to go feral, feeling Angelus, never letting him out up top. So he let out below, slam bang grind, and she would scream. She was never a screamer with Riley or Spike, but with Angel, she would scream because she felt him, power and death and a long slow burn: the orgasm she would never have with anyone else.
Huh. This one seems to be producing some reactions...
And here's a second one. As Fay would say, dark as the inside of a cat.
Gone In A Moment
After the autopsy, the doctor told Buffy that Joyce had not had time to suffer. It had been too quick for that: a moment of light, all lights out.
Giles stood at Joyce's grave, remembering. He kept an eye on Joyce's children, on the group around them, his mind circling the question, never to be answered.
What had she felt, in that last falling light? Had she remembered him, hands wrenching her knees apart, holding her as she bubbled under him, atop that police cruiser?
He hoped so. He hoped it would be the last thing he remembered, as well.
