Hmmm, what're they selling now...

R.E.Q. Entertainment Kiosk - where you run your favorite shows!

Huh. It's got The Avengers, Homicide, Firefly...

Wonder if it's got a porn filter...No, filter. That can't be right. I could just take Emma Peel and John Crichton and Willow all...How much does this cost anyway?

I've been trying to find one of these hot new "write your own adventure" kiosks that I can play with, but they've all been taken by leering, snickering people writing their own porny versions of their favorite shows. I want a turn! Darn it, if people are putting their money into these kiosks to watch their own fantasies, they're going to stop buying the stories I write.

Wait . . .

Might have known evil was afoot.

Brian's been awfully thoughtful of late; springing to answer the phone ("You don't want to talk to those pesky telemarketers."), running out to meet the mailcarrier ("Oh, just a bunch of flyers and junkmail. Say, let's build a fire and cuddle."), waiting on me hand and foot ("Who needs to go outside when we have everything we want here?"), personally fastforwarding through commericals ("Don't you just hate commercials?")... If I was the suspicious type, I might think that he was behaving suspiciously.

"Stupid machine! What do you mean I'm out of money? I just got paid three days ago! I was right in the middle of an epic space battle with Aeryn and Zoe fighting back to back against a legion of Klingons! Let. Me BACK IN!!!"

Epic Space Battle! Aeryn and Zoe Fight Back to Back!"

"Ooh, what a clever idea! I've got a half hour till my next appointment..."

I loitered outside the Chinese Grocery, clutching a huge vat of hot and sour soup, thankful for it's fragrant warmth this crisp, misty morning.

"Hey, lady, you gonna be much longer?"

The cabbie sounded irritated - I couldn't blame him. The cats were, quite appropriately, caterwauling in their carriers. They say that cats don't have the cognitive function to do math, but mine know that car+carrier=vet, and they protest accordingly. It's enough to drive a person quite mad.

"I told you, my husband is shopping. He'll be out when he's done."

I hugged the pot close and tried to peer into the crowded store. "Oh, here he comes now." The cabbie grunted his satisfaction, but I could not be so sanguine.

Brian walked out of the store, rearranging bags of produce, but stopped short when he saw me.

"Hi." I smiled casually, but didn't fool him.

"What are you doing here? I told you to stay home. Why are the cats there? Is that my soup?"

I tilted my head winsomely, all the better to avoid his sharp eyes. "See, I was at home, on the couch, and there was a knock at the door and this salesman was there..."

"Yog-Sothoth save me. Did you buy one of the R.E.Q.s?"

"Well, I wasn't going to, but you know men, and their sales..."

"What happened."

"It didn't seem harmful. I just wanted to review some classic episodes..."

"What happened."

I jiggled the pot and spoke quickly, hoping the sloshing soup would drown out my words, "giant snake."

"What?"

I cleared my throat and looked him straight in the eye. "There was a giant snake."

"Holy ... What did you blow up?"

"the house."

"WHAT!"

"It seemed like the best plan, honest."

"The books!"

"We got them out."

"My weapons!"

"We'd never leave those."

He exhaled heavily, and though the cold air turned his breath to vapour which looked like nothing so much as steam, I could tell that he was calming down.

"The furniture?"

"Yep."

"How did you manage that?"

"Oh, we rented a moving van."

He paused for a second, reviewing. "All of our stuff?"

"Safe as hous... It's all safe."

"My favourite sweatshirt?"

"The one with the ragged sleeves and ripped neck?"

"That would be the one."

"This pot is getting awfully heavy."

Damn. So much for him calming down.

He sighed. "I've been gone for twenty minutes. How did you manage to move everything and blow the house up?"

"Fastforwarded through the exposition."

He took the pot from me and motioned me toward the cab with a jerk of his head. I opened the door and breathed deep the comforting scent of gingerbread that wafted out.

We rearranged cats and soup and Bok Choy until we were mostly comfortable. "We're good to go." I smiled at the driver. "Thank you for being so patient."

"So, where to?"

"Don't say Maine, don't say Maine." Brian was muttering under his breath from where he sat scrunched down and hidden behind the soup.

"Just drive, please. We'll know where we want to go when we get there."

He pulled out into the bustling streets of Little Saigon and we started the first morning of our next great adventure.

I was half-asleep, so maybe I dreamed the conversation I overheard this morning. Bob and Achmed the Clever. Bob sounded worried.

"We've got to do something, Achmed. She kept muttering 'Nuke it from orbit, it's the only way to be sure.'"

"She was looking at those old 'I Love Lucy' episodes, wasn't she."

"Uh huh. And you know how she starts twitching when those show up."

"Still, sir, an Aliens/'I Love Lucy' crossover . . ."

"Heh. 'Lucy, I'm--urk!' No, no, it can't lead anywhere good."

The brainstorming meeting has begun. I address my lowly minions.

"It is time to voice your ideas for my new evil plot. Deimos here will write the ideas on the whiteboard and then we'll discuss."

I wait for one of my minions to voice an opinion, but they all sit there motionless.

"I'm waiting!"

Nothing, not even a twitch. I draw my sword and lop off the head of one of the minions to encourage the start of debate. To my surprise the sword shatters the minion into a pile of stone and dust. It appears all of my minions have turned to stone. I shatter the rest of my stone minions to vent a little.

"Go Deimos, there will be no notes from this meeting."

I settle down in my chair and ponder the meaning of this. Maybe it's time to put in a call to the Abyss.

Never again with the army of Frog People. It's just not worth it. Sure, it's fun to see them hopping around, landing on the townsfolk with their cool boots with the big spikes on, but then along come some punk kids with a big friggin' magnet and they all surrender. Traitors.

My own boots, spikeless and thanks be for that, slap dully against the road, as they have these last days. Of the days losses these: The big MirrorMissle launcher ... Giant Laser (and how does one look one's peers in the eye and say 'I lost my Giant Laser in a magnetically induced rain of Frog People'?), the Time Machine. Dammit, it was almost finished too.

Never mind that. Almost there now. A little while to recuperate. Figure out what to do next. They said I could show up anytime. They said I could stay as long as I want. A cab smelling of cats and hot and sour soup splashes water on me, and I don't even care enough to smite it. The Indifference Machine sings softly to itself on my hip. Smug little bastard.

A quiet but insistent clinking sound intrudes on my reverie, as The Weapon makes its thoughts known. Frell science. Especially the mad kind. It was never yours. Never where you lived. I can begin to see it's point, and my spirits begin to lift.

Sure. It'll be fun. Forget the other stuff. Saturday morning crap. My heart was never in it, anyways. A good pair of ShitKickers, an Indifference Machine, and the fabled Chain of Command. New town. New beginning. Back to basics, just like old times. What else do I really need? Well, there's food, for one thing. But that's what old friends are for. And then I smell the smoke.

I take the last corner at speed, but it turns out there's no need. I come to a stop amidst the rubble, th Chain of Command jumps into my hand, and slithers through the wreckage. All it finds is the tattered remnants of a sweatshirt that's seen better days.

"Y'know, there's some days things wouldn't go right if you paid 'em to."

After the proper preparations and setting up a circle of protection. I summon a demon from the Abyss.

The winged creature appears in the circle in a burst of flames. "For what have you dared to summon me?" The voice isn't very deep or booming.

I cross into the circle and pull off a cheap set of plastic wings and smack off the plastic horns. "You're not even a proper demon."

The creature sighs, "Okay you got me, I'm a damned soul. The Abyss outsourced it's call centers to the Nine Hells. Look do you have a task or question, I've had the training?"

I grab my sword ready to dispatch this imposter to....oh, what's the point. "Why have my minions turned to stone imposter of the Abyss?"

He shrugs. "Got me. Could you take a survey about..."

"Leave!"

"Could you give me my wings back, I've got three more summonings in my queue and..."

"Go to hell!"

"Okay." And with that and a puff of smoke the damned soul disappears.