I'm not a show off, I'm a show on!

(I wrote that. I read it. It made no sense. I decided to post it anyway. Take it as a warning of the dangers that can be wrought by Vanilla Bean Frappucinos this late at night.)

I've got a car you can wax, if you like. Then you can go kick butt at the karate tournament.

I wrote one last night. My brain hurts now. But I bet I was the only one who used a semicolon properly...I learned from the wife.

Oh, joy. This week's Open on Sunday theme is "dialogue only". What a flaming bore; I loathe pure dialogue.

Hell. OK. Two tries:

A different take on a famous scene

"Drink."

"I won't do it."

"Like hell you won't. Do you really think I'm going to watch you die, when all you need is my blood?

"If I die, I die. I don't need to take you with me."

"You're getting weaker. For Christ's sake, drink!"

"I can't. I won't risk harming you."

"You're not my doctor, Angel. You're supposed to be my lover."

"I won't take your blood. I won't risk both of us."

"Will you get it through your arrogant skull that I'm a big girl, I'm the Slayer, and I can take care of myself? Now, drink!"

and

Overheard in Wesley's bed...

"Do you love me?"

"Shut up. Don't go there. You know what a bloody waste of time that is - why must you always come back to it?"

"Because I want to know, damn it! Because - ohgod ohgod yes, yes, oh Wes, please do that again - "

"Yes, you like that, don't you, Lilah? Tongues in new places. Would it matter, my loving you? Suppose I didn't? I want you. Obvious, really. Isn't that enough?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe I just want to know what I'm worth to you. Am I worth loving?"

"Easy. You're worth a dollar."

You think you know somebody... of course I may have a dialogue dependency.

You think you know somebody...

But but but, you know I loathe pure dialogue - I announce it with tiresome regularity.

Dialogue is great, with breaks. But this week's challenge was to tell a story or paint a scene with nothing but, and I actually get furious with writers who do that too much. Set me a scene, damnit! Give me a backdrop! Give me a reason to care about all the talky-meats!

I was kidding... and trying to break my smiley habit.

Heh. So was I - notice the butbutbut.

In my grand "Love me, love my obsessions," tradition, the challenge in thursday100 is drugs, this week. Which makes me think of exactly one person, naturally. And I'm pretentious enough to plan to write three inter-related ones and steal the titles from modern lit. Nobody over there will get this, I'd bet an ovary.

What We Talk About When We Talk About Drugs

I’ll tell you, Elliot, drugs are different now...don’t look so shocked. I’m not going to offer you any(although, bunky, if I was going to make a list of people in need of chemical enhancement, you and Liv would be at the top of the list. With a bullet, you should excuse the expression.) I used to love getting high with people, the community, uniting for a common purpose, thumbing our noses at the Man(and then, somehow, I am the Man. How did that happen, Stabler? Could you tell me that, please? )

And the others...Still Munch POV(who else's, right?)

What We Talk About When We Talk About Drugs parts 2 and 3
The Drug War

But the scene is ugly now. Every day, I come in to work and some frat-rat asshole has put another roofie in a college girl’s drink. And people get on chemicals that make them angry enough to tear each other’s heads off. What can we do, Elliot, the drug war’s over. And we lost. All we have left is lip service and prohibition...oh, great, start in about the kids again...ok, we lost everywhere but your little corner of Queens, happy, now, babe? Honestly, you’re so naive it’s like talking to Timmy sometimes...Bayliss from Baltimore. You probably were on the Good Ship Lollipop together once. But he was good, like you, until... where was I?
Beyond Substances

Women have always been my main drug of choice. Still are, even though I’m like a dry drunk these days until a certain red-haired sargeant makes her way here on the train again. You know what I mean, and not only about Kathy...I’ve seen how you look at Liv. Like you’re starving and she’s the last cupcake....there’s not a face in the world I know better. Trust me, you don’t need the tsuris...she’s your partner, and, to put it bluntly, I’m not sure she drives stick anymore...there’s a rumor going around about her and somebody in the DA’s office...pretty messy.(I confess to occasionally wanting to be a fly on the wall, but I’ll take the Fifth if you press me.)