My world has gone turvy topsy. My Thai bowl turned out to be pea soup. My lemon grass tea was hot Dr. Pepper. I missed my streetcar. People pushed me on the sidewalk. A passing cab splashed slush on my pants.

If I wanted to live in the world I wouldn't have bought a house in Sang Sacre.

Stupid world. You want to be pissy to me? Be prepared for pissiness on an epic scale.

I stomp down the street toward home, growling menacingly under my breath; my scowl would turn a hero to stone. I push through the crowds at the Aztec - a gaggle of girls are giggling and squealing. Their delight vexes me. I am vexed.

"The Hobbits do not end up in a massive group marriage! Legolas and Aragorn never consummate their burning passion! Haldir dies a virgin!"

My voice is hoarse by the time I've finished screaming, but the girls have melted in tears. Good. If I'm to be vexed, by Jebus, I'll spread the mood to everyone who irks me.

I storm into the house, slamming doors. I start to strip off my sodden pants and hop around the hall like a freak before I bang against the wall.

"Damn, damn, damn, with a side order of damn!"

Brian comes around the corner, holding a fire extinguisher. "Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

"Do I look like someone who has spent all morning preening? Hmmm?"

I would think that my bedraggled appearance would convince him, but he looks skeptical. I stagger to the parlour and slump to the couch; the velvet upholstery feels nice against my cold, bare thighs. That's when I notice something odd.

"What the fuck is that about?" I ask Brian, motioning toward the black shrouded mirror over the mantle.

"Weird things are going on with mirrors. A bunch of your PlayDoh Uruks looked into the hall mirror and split into Elves and some truly grotesque Goblinesque creatures."

"Huh."

"And now the Elves have taken over your dressing room; they've used all the hair gel and shorted out the blow dryer."

"Huh."

"And the freaky Goblin things are tormenting the cats."

"The cats are big boys, they can handle it."

"And the first batch of Uruks have started to harden."

"Yeah?"

"You know how PlayDoh gets. They've been crumbling to dust, and I'm tired of sweeping up."

"Whatever."

"They got dust on your Lord of the Rings DVD."

I managed to fit the entire Fuzzy Pumper Orthanc into the original box. It isn't pretty, but duct tape covers a multitude of sins.

"Where should we send it?" It's a quandry, you don't want just anyone to have this sort of thing. You want it to go to someone who'll appreciate it.

Brian looked up from the corner where he was industriously dust busting. "Give it to Clovis. He always wants minions."

"That's a thought. But Jilli won't like that."

"Never mind, then. I don't want to alienate Jilli. You never want to lose a friend who throws such great parties."

There is silence; or there would be, if the dust buster wasn't working overtime. Brian finally shuts the damn thing off.

"We could give it to Emmett. You know how he loves all things evil."

Huh. That is true; but, wait. "Yeah, but don't you think that Hec might get a little mad and stop coming around?" But I'm speaking to an empty room. Brian had grabbed the package and rounded the corner before I could finish the thought.

Ah, well. Hec's pique will only last as long as it takes me to make a hair appointment.

I settle down on the couch and pick up the remote. Oooh, Firefly.

The magic is rising- it is ready to flow- my voices cracks a little, my throat is dry- it sloshes about a bit, undecided- and then I throw up.

Note to self: learn difference between 'can do magic' and 'knows theory of magic'.

I open my eyes and swallow with difficulty. Suddenly, I realise that what I'm looking at is not a small puddle of vomit, but something worse.

"Oh dear," Hector sighs behind me.

It's a full size zombie, its eyes rotting and its skin peeling. Literally. The thing is made of green jelly and apple slices.

I decide to leave Am-Chau to her magic, and get more information through a traditional source. I grab Miracleman's newspaper from the hall table and check out the headlines. Random bombings? I read the first few paragraphs, and am struck by how familiar the targets are from my own internal rantings. Hell on a stick. According to the paper, the evil twin phenomenon is fairly widespread, but considered generally harmless. Some people are even shopping with their twins. Why did mine go on a bombing rampage? Maybe it's because I never had a sister. I am extremely irritated by the unfairness of it all.

Behind me, Am-Chau's chanting gives way to the horrid sound of gagging. I turn to hand her another towel, only to be confronted by yet another green monster. I shriek and throw a towel at its face. The thing grins evilly.

"You startled me, you son of a bitch! Never do that to anyone again, EVER!"

As I mentioned, my ability to curse is not something I was trained to do. Nor is it terribly reliable. Sometimes, however, it is very effective, especially when I don't think too much about it.

The zombie jumps back a bit, then hangs its digusting, oozing head. I fix the creature with a very stern look. It opens Miracleman's door, then shambles off like a rotting penitent.

I don't try to stop it because, ew! Am-Chau is less than impressed.

"Hey, it's a temporary solution."

"All right, devils damn you, ALL RIGHT!!"

Heh. All the curses, all the charms, incantations and enchantments...

None of 'em add up to a combination of headlock and atomic wedgie.

"You're going back where you came from," I hiss in my double's ear. "You're going back and you're gonna work your damnable mojo from the other side and you WILL call all the other evil twins back or by all the gods in all the multiverse I will climb in after you and see if I can't hang these boxer-briefs by your godsdamned EARS!"

"Okay. OKAY!!" he screams as I tug upwards a little bit more.

"And if you see that bastard Aeshma, tell him I still have ideas for him that will make his stay in a mountain resort seem much more pleasant. Got that?"

"YES!"

I frog-march him to the nearest mirror and shove him through. He turns and glowers at me.

"Now that you've released me..."

I grab the frame of the mirror and prepare to hoist myself through.

"Just KIDDING!! Fuck! Get a sense of HUMOR!!"

"Do it."

He mumbles and gesticulates in dead and bloodcurdling languages. His image starts to shift and fade...

Just before he's gone, he sticks his tongue out at me. I flip him the bird.

i stand very still. things shoot around the air. she speaks, and her words roll into the air lazily. things shoot around the air, the sound of cars and birds flapping wings, and bit by bit words are sticking to my skin. i use them. they crackle with satisfaction.

a rage.

I have enough stuff for one more bomb, so I decide to use it well. I can't think of a better target than the HQ of the paper that just referred to me as a "Mad Bomber".

I've got it down to less than 10 seconds now. Bottle, match sling. I watch the bottle arc in a glorious curve towards the bland, brick building. It glitters in the sun as it spins. I am overwhelmed with a feeling of calm and satisfaction at a job well done.

Also - a stabbing pain in my chest. What's happening? Oh, fu. . .

(Psst, elaris, if you're going to use the <i> tag to start every line, you need to use a </i> tag at the end of every line...)

Ah! Sorry, DX. The original post had just one t i at the beginning and one t /i at the end, but when I pressed the post button, it looked like only the first line was italicized. I figured there was some auto-closing going on, but I guess I was confused.

t disturbing in the middle of the story I don't have nearly enough of that English thing to become a citizen of Sang Sacre, but it doesn't damage in any way my enjoyment of reading and lurking. It's a great thread to catch up on, even for a non-participant. That is all. You may return to your regularly scheduled world. t /disturbing