Damn it, Elena, PlayDoh was one of my last innocent childhood memories.

Canadian raccoons will eat PlayDoh, if they can't find anything else around the campsite.

Hello??? Play Doh tastes GOOD!

The streets are crowded in Sang Sacre. I debate, should I wait for a bus or ride my unicorn. What the hell, he could probably use the exercise..and it's definitely faster.

You'd think even in Sang Sacre that people would get so tired of The Two Towers that we wouldn't need The Palace to be showing it 24-hours a day. Except that doesn't explain why I'm in line for my third viewing at 2 AM. Lots of the night folk are out for this one, naturally.

I hear hoofbeats down the street. Nine black horses bearing cloaked and hooded riders appear from around the corner. Oh, gosh, no. How did they get here? The crowd goes tense as the horses stop in front of the theatre. The riders dismount and stare at us, then move forward slowly. I think about doing something brave and stupid, then decide that she who backs down deserves an extra large popcorn during the movie.

Stupid line jumpers. Just cause they're servants of the Dark Lord--Gudanov's going to be pissed when he hears somebody else's minions are in town--doesn't mean they get to go to the head of the line.

I let a sigh blow through my teeth at the sight of those damned Wraiths. There's narcissicm, and then there's narcissism. The assholes have been here since the first showing, midnight on Tuesday, and have been hogging spots in line ever since. They have, like, one shot in the movie, but you can feel the preening halfway across the room. I tap Connie on the elbow. "Man, this is getting really old, isn't it? Hell, I'll give them a ring just to go away."

I'm coming out from seeing the second chapter in what I'm told is a three-part comedy epic. Hee hee. The elves are all glowy, rather than vicious dirt-covered snot nosed little kneebiters that learned to weave and dye in pretty colors. And they're good fighters! I almost wet myself watching the first part and the second part was just as funny. Little hobbits and their zany ideas...

Anyway, coming out of the theater I see nine people dressed as the Ring Wraiths cutting into line. People are grumbling and I don't blame them. Everyone will get their chance to see this, there's no reason to be uncivil.

Hee hee. Gimli, always with the wise-cracks...

I step in front of the interlopers and tap my staff on the ground. "Whyn't you hold it a sec Line-jumper Larry? Just step on back to the end and wait your turn like..."

The front Wraith howls, an unearthly hellish noise that makes the knees go watery and the backs of your eyeballs vibrate.

"No need for that, son," I say. "Tantrums are the mark of an undeveloped being. Just shuffle on back there and wait with everyone else. And don't forget to clean up after those horses when you come back out, either, nobody needs piles of unholy horse droppings clogging the storm drains. There's a good chap."

Confused and, apparently, enraged the Wraith draws a wicked looking blade and brandishes it menacingly. "Bbbaaaagggginnnnnsss..." it hisses.

"No, sorry, wrong person. I'm Miracleman..." I snap my fingers and lightning lances from my staff to strike his sword. He drops the suddenly white-hot weapon and howls again, clutching at his burned hand.

"...and I don't like rude people."

Grumbling, hissing and ineffectually waving their fists, the nine cloaked figures move to the back of the line. I head toward the street and home, pausing by them to say "And if I hear one word about thrown Jujyfruits, or 'accidentally dropped' Slurpees from the balcony I will be visiting you and having a stern talk with your employer. Do you understand?" Cowed, they nod.

Heading home I mutter "Gods, I hope they behave. That miserable little counter-jumper Sauron always gets on my nerves and all he has lite beer and instant coffee. No wonder he's cranky."

Note to self: never active portable hyperdrive until you've set co-ordinates.

What is this place?

I'm in a street, fairly crowed and there's a cinema, much as at home. I watch amazed as a man dressed all in black is struck down by a powerful wizard. Slidding round the corner into an alleyway, I mutter, "Eris protect me. I have a cult to run, you know."

It doesn't seem to do any good. I'm grabbed from behind, and only just have time to scream, "Help!" before I'm knocked out.

"Jilli."

I look up from the pile of vintage velvet opera cloaks I'm unpacking. "What sweetie?"

"Do you know what your rabbit is doing?" Pete asks, in a dangerously reasonable tone of voice.

"Uh, sitting on the counter reading the latest Gloomcookie, last I checked. Why?"

Pete rolls his eyes and points behind me. I turn around and watch as Clovis attempts to drape a length of black cotton around a gingerbread person.

"Clovis. What are you doing?"

"dressing minions properly. need horses for proper effect."

Pete looks at me in a pointed manner. "I told you taking Clovis to see the Lord of the Rings movies was a bad idea."

"need ring of power too."

I pick up my Devilbunny, taking the gingerbread person away from him. "No. No ring of power and no Ring Wraiths for you."

"but am evil overlord! can't be evil overlord without ring of power!"

"Yes you can. Besides, you're not an evil overlord yet. You're an evil overlord in training. And if you had a ring of power, you'd have to manifest as a giant flaming eye."

"not as cute bunny?" Clovis asks thoughtfully.

"Nope. Just think about how much less you'd get away with because you wouldn't be able to pull the 'I'm a harmless cute bunny' trick. People are always suspicious of a giant flaming eye."

"okay. give minion back now?"

Ooo-kay, when did Miracleman start channelling Gandalf? Not going to complain, though. I nudge SA. "Pretty cool, huh?"

The wraith stomp past to the end of the line. Steam hisses up from the sidewalk under the boots.

"Guys, come on, you've seen it already, haven't you?"

They nod and shrug in that way that always says, "Yeah, so what?"

"Granted, you didn't have as much good stuff to do in this one. It's a big theater and all the seats are good. Tell you what, how about a round of popcorn on me?"

They consult with each other a moment, then the leader comes forward. "Naa--chosss."

"Nachos for everybody?"

"Yessss." One of the smaller wraiths looks like he's going to protest, but the leader turns and glares at him.

"Pickles?"

The leader hisses menacingly.

"OK, no pickles, I never saw the point of 'em at hte movies either. Nachos for everybody." As the leader turns to go back to his bunch, I mouth the word "Popcorn" at the one who doesn't like nachos, and he bounces a little before resuming the approved guise of muttering and hissing. Giddy wraiths. Goddess help the furniture.