[No, it's broken. That's a John H. link from days of yore. I dunno if anybody has history docs still. Do we? I edited the link out. If we have some docs, I'll stick it back under there.]

I miss the map

Yes, and hte award for Looking Stupid In Public goes to . . . Me! I could have sworn it wasn't there the last time I looked for it.

[The history was all originally in...Natter I think. So we just have to find the right archived Natter thread. DXM?]

[Not in Natter. It was in Buffy Backstory over at WX. I actually did go into the archives about a year ago, and recreated the history file, but then I saw something shiny and forgot all about it. I'll try to put it up today. If I can find the frelling archives ftp password...]

[Okay, it's up. [link] I also put the link back into the header.]

[DX is my hero!]

"Hello, customer service?"

"Yes? How can I help you?"

"I need to reorder all my credit cards?"

"Oh, have you been the victim of fraud?"

"No, my eelskin wallet has suddenly degaussed them. All."

"..."

"Also, do you know who I should recall to report the sudden vast overpopulation due to the current population of the world being greater than all the people who have ever lived? 'Cause that's kinda a hassle. And we're getting short on natural resources. Somebody should do something, you know."

"..."

Capt. Charpe and Sgt. Chopper walked purposefully up a long, winding road through the forest in Greenwood.

"My feet are killin' me, sir, and it's no lie. Why's the bloody castle have to be all the way out here."

"You've grown soft, Pit, now yer an orc of luxury in the big city. Would you like us to get you one of those bi-cycle things like DX rides if your feet hurt so much after just a little bit of a walk through the woods. And would you prefer Gudanov do his bleedin' experiments in the middle of Weiler Square? I'm just as happy he is way out here."

"Aye, sir, you make a good point. Still, it is a long way to walk. It was so much easier when we were barracked out here in Greenwood, before they moved the Yard to Blackwood Parish. Why can't we get the city to buy us a vehicle or two for Watch business? Every other big city and small town has 'em. I've seen 'em on the television at Milo's, always chasin' around with them fancy lights on. And sirens, sir. They have sirens."

"Pit, you don't know how to drive."

"I can learn, sir. Or one of the human watchmen can drive."

"Pity you fed the last human watchman we had to a giant alligator."

"You didn't like him much, either, sir."

"That's beside the point, sergeant. It's hard to attract new recruits to the Watch if you and the lads keep puttin' 'em in hospital once they're in. You can't be as rough with the other races as you would orcs. They're not equipped for it."

"Aye, sir. Their bones do break easy. I'll tell the boys to go a bit gentler with 'em."

"Good, and I'll talk to the Watch Oversight Board about a vehicle. Ah, there's the castle."

(OMG, how much do I love the Charpe and Chopper show?)

I'll just state right now that I'm no damned good at this stuff, but I'm an avid audience. That applause you hear? Is me.

I roll over in bed for my morning snuggle--then yank back fast. What is that unholy stench? Holy stench? I am a vampire, so holy would probably be the proper--anyway. Instead of snuggly, girl-smelling woman lying next to me, there's a snuggly what-on-earth-is-that?-smelling woman.

I sniff carefully.

Oh, crap. But that's just a myth. Like everything else that's suddenly been cropping up in town.

Garlic. From the lasagna last night. And instead of being yummy, it's making me want to crawl out of my skin.

If garlic is suddenly working as Vamp-B-Gon . . .

My cellphone is in my pants on the far side of the room. I take the phone out to the living room, suddenly having to take a large detour around the medieval crucifix that hangs on the wall. It's hanging as an exquisite art piece, not a statement of religion, but seeing it out of the corner of my eye makes me cringe.

I dial 2 on the speed dial. "Larry!"

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Mr. Cohen? It's Bob. Where's Larry?" Mr. Cohen owns the Kosher deli where Larry works the night shift.

"Oh, Bob! Poor Larry is in the walk-in freezer! The sun came up, and even though we don't have an eastward facing window, he became very upset, then very lethargic. I don't know what's wrong with him, but I thought a room with no windows would be best."

That's just wrong. It's not traditional that sunrise knocks us out. In the book, Dracula himself can move around in the day. But does Larry think he needs to be asleep?

I hang up on Mr. Cohen. At least Larry's safe. But how many of my buddies have found out the hard way that the legendary banes of vampiredom now work?

Huh.

I go out to the middle of the living room, close my eyes, and concentrate. There's a weird pop and then--I've got bat wings!

"Sweet!" I squeak.

But flapping is hard on the arms. I panic a little, then I concentrate just right and have two legs again. So what else . . .

Pop!

I try to cheer, but clouds of fog that can pass through keyholes don't have vocal cords. This is so cool!

Until that draft from the window catches me.