This Time Round: Party Favors
BKWillis
by BKWillis
[This Time Round, Reality Level +1.0 (the 'Shock Value' reality)]
"Explain to me why you're doing this, again."
"It's very simple, Miss Brown," the Bradleyard said, taking a
moment to get another good look at Peri's 'assets'. "For this to
be a properly huge blowout party/orgy/riot/whatever, we need
to invite all the others from the *lesser* levels of reality. With
Davros's machine, here, we can forcibly link together all the rel-
evant Levels, thus permitting those from, say, 'Badlands' or
'To Die For' to join us in our big Adric Awards viewing extrava-
ganza!" He swirled his cape dramatically, knocking over a flower
pot.
Peri felt herself suddenly filled with the curious and almost over-
whelming urge to hit the villainous author with a blunt instrument,
but she somehow resisted. "I've got that part," she said with
admirable patience. "What I don't get is why you need to link the
various continuities. Remember, This Time Round is the pub
'outside continuity', so there shouldn't be any need to go to such
lengths, right?"
Lydia turned and gave the Bradleyard a 'see what I mean' look,
then sighed. "_You_ wouldn't have to," she told Peri. "Nor
would most people. But _we_ happen to work for the Tin Scare-
crow, who has his own bizarre ideas about continuity."
"Or lack thereof," sneered the Bradleyard.
Peri looked confused. "'Tin Scarecrow'? I thought you worked
for BKWilmmphh!"
The Bradleyard slowly took his hand off of Peri's mouth. "Don't
say his name!" he hissed. "He's like a demon. Say his name, and
he's liable to show up."
"Yeah," agreed Lydia. "And the _last_ thing we need is to give
him an excuse for more author-insertion. Just do like we do and
refer to him as 'the Tin Scarecrow'."
Peri started to ask a question, but was cut off by Davros, who was
still hunched over his ridiculously complex plot contrivance. "To
answer your question, have you ever seen 'The Wizard of Oz'?" he
rasped.
"Er, yes."
"Well, then, if you will recall, the Tin Woodsman needed a heart,
while the Scarecow wished for a brain. Our employer could simi-
larly benefit from a trip to the Wizard. Thus, 'Tin Scarecrow'."
"Oh," said Peri politely.
Davros suddenly spun his chair about and gave the Bradleyard a
thumbs-up. "There we are. Just plug it in and we should be ready
to go."
Peri watched as a team of Kvetchians forced the 17-pronged plug
into a nearby wall socket that had 14 too-few openings for it. "Is
this thing safe?" she asked, eyeing the exit.
Davros looked offended. "Safe?! Of _course_ it's safe! Why, the
only thing that could possibly cause a problem would be if someone
on another Level tried to forge a link at the same time, but I can
assure you that that is quite impossible, as only _I_ have the nec-
essary skills and intellect to perform such a feat!"
----
[This Time Round, Reality Level +3.1 (the 'To Die For' reality)]
"Is this thing safe?" asked Adric as he gave the nearest exit a long
look.
Washuu looked offended. "Of _course_ it's safe, Adric! The only
thing that could possibly cause a problem would be if someone on
another Level tried to link to us while we're opening our own link.
Even then, it would take at least _two_ other links to seriously
distort the structure of Panreality."
The Alzarian checked to make sure his punchcard was readily
accessible. He had the feeling he'd be needing it soon. Aloud,
though, he just said, "If you say so, Washuu."
"Ahem!"
"Oh, sorry. I meant, if you say so, Washuu-*chan*."
"That's better. Now, don't worry. What are the odds of _two_
other continuities trying to link to us at the same time? Now, let's
get ready for the big party!"
----
[The Satellite of Love, Reality Level +3.2 (the 'Mystery Psycho
Theater 3000' reality)]
"Is this thing safe?" Diane asked, giving the contraption a worried
look.
"Of _course_ it's safe!" Helen snapped, looking horny and offen-
ded. "You'd think you lot had never seen a bed before!"
"Well, not with so many... 'accessories', we haven't." Doug was
stealthily easing over so that Di was between him and the whip-
wielding Brit.
"Hmmph. No imagination, that's what you Yanks have got. I
mean, how can you _not_ see the usefulness of these built-in
stirrups? Or the ice dispenser so conveniently accessible to the
shackles?"
Number One poked his head into the room, looking grim. "Y'all
need to start worrying," he grunted. "Now."
"Oh, crap," Doug sighed. "What's Nyssa done now?"
"She's trying to link our TV set to all of Panreality, so we can
watch the Adric Awards ceremony in real-time."
"That doesn't sound so bad..." Diane hazarded.
"Has she got it to work yet?" asked Helen.
Number One gave them a flat look. "So far, she's accidentally
irradiated the bathroom, summoned the Lesser Demon Surgat,
turned me into a lungfish, and blown up the waffle iron. She
says she's getting closer, though."
There were worried gulps all around.
----
[Outside Terminus Township, Reality Level -15.5 (the 'Badlands'
reality)]
"Is this thing safe?" the Serpent's Champion asked, hand on her
rapier hilt and eyes on the dark portal swirling in front of her.
Coyote grinned his maddening idiot's grin. "I very much doubt it,
darling Teggy-poo..."
----
[This Time Round, Reality Level +1.0 (the 'Shock Value' reality)]
"Let's get it on!" shouted the Bradleyard, punching the device's
'On' button. There was a blinding flash...
----
[This Time Round, Reality Level +3.1 (the 'To Die For' reality)]
"Here we go!" shouted Washuu, punching the device's 'Operative
Mode Execute' button. There was a blinding flash...
----
[The Satellite of Love, Reality Level +3.2 (the 'Mystery Psycho
Theater 3000' reality)]
"It's telly time!" shouted Nyssa, punching the remote control's
'Channel 5' button. There was a blinding flash...
----
[Outside Terminus Township, Reality Level -15.5 (the 'Badlands'
reality)]
"After you, *ladies*!" shouted Coyote, punching Tegan and
Ember Ashe into the portal, then jumping in himself. There was
only the swirling darkness...
----
[Tuscumbia, Alabama, Reality Level 0.0 (Baseline Reality)]
Smoke began to curl out of BKWillis's computer. Something
inside it went 'Whakakakakazipzipzipsproing' as the monitor
stutter-flashed like a strobe light.
Then an ominous quiet descended...
----
[This Time Round, New Reality Level +1.666 (a problem reality),
several minutes later]
"Settle down, everyone!" Lydia hollered, brandishing a hockey
stick in a way that added a silent 'or else' to her request. She had
taken on the task of Door Warden after the massive but oddly
non-destructive explosion that had rocked the 'Round earlier,
Polly being unfortunately indisposed. (She'd taken one look at
the weirdos that started filing in and had promptly marched her-
self out the door with Ben in one hand and a bottle of brandy in
the other.)
This Time Round was packed to the gunwales with people, all
of whom were pushing and shoving for a good view of the big-
screen television. And, since the crowd contained a goodly
number of psychos, sickos, and just plain dangerous people,
the shoving was pretty severe.
Davros sighed as he looked over the pile of slag that was once
his panreality linkage device. "What a waste..."
"It was your own fault!" Washuu snapped. "You should never
have tried forming a linkage using the Hassenpfefferschweinkopf
Principle. Everybody knows the feedback from a Triphase Polar-
ization Gate will cause a recursive backlash."
"And only a fool would set up a Triphase Polarization Gate
knowing that there was an unstable interstitial shift layer nearby!"
the Kaled scientist snapped back.
"You two blew up my telly," Psycho Nyssa growled at them both.
"You're just fortunate that I was planning on blowing it up later
myself."
Coyote stayed quiet, not mentioning that it was actually his Block
Transfer Computations that caused the interstitial shift layer to
destabilize to begin with.
Oddly, it was Davros who decided to look on the bright side. "Ah,
well. At least it worked, and without anything going wrong."
"True," Washuu agreed. "I guess I can drink to that."
Of course, it goes without saying that they were quite wrong.
At the door, Lydia was beginning to get just a *wee* bit miffed.
She clobbered the nearest target of opportunity with her hockey
stick.
"OWW!" Peri yelped, rubbing at her head. "What'd you do that
for?"
"I'm sorry," the Winona Ryder near-lookalike said, instantly con-
trite. "I'm just getting frustrated because these idiots won't settle
down." ("And because you get to work for an author with a brain,
unlike the rest of us," she didn't add. "Maybe I should suck up to
her, just in case she can get me a job working for Gadzikowski.")
She groaned and sagged against the wall as she looked around the
room. Here she'd gone and laid out this nice setup, and everyone
was too busy surging around like mountain goats in a mosh pit to
get settled in for proper introductions and mildly naughty party
games. The two Francoises from TDF and MPT3k were too busy
pummelling each other to listen. The MPT3k Adric and Tegan
were in a point-blank screaming match with each other, while the
Varnes from MPT3k and 'Shock Value' were apparently trying to
one-up each other with 'stupid co-worker' stories. Ryoko from
TDF was arguing with Ember from 'Badlands' over whether or not
the little demon-hunter was meant to be a Lina Inverse ripoff, and
it looked as though the debating was about to give way to fireballs
and plasma bolts.
Meanwhile, the Satellite of Love crew had squared off against the
Kvetchians in an impromptu indoor soccer match, using a copy of
_Divided Loyalties_ for a ball. Helen was loudly demanding that
the game be changed to *strip* soccer, but was being outvoted
by her teammates and a number of spectators who really did not
want to see what kind of underwear Kvetchians wore. Nyssaias
and Embericles were making out on the piano, to no one's surprise.
Outside, the WANKERs sulked and peeked in through the win-
dows. They'd been forcibly ejected by unanimous vote of the
others.
"excuse me."
Lydia barely heard the feather-light voice over the calamitous
noise of the Tin Scarecrow's employee free-for-all. She turned to
see a girl standing in the doorway, a large, floppy hat shadowing
her face and dressed in a long, dark gown with elbow-length
gloves. Strangely, the girl was also carrying a parasol.
"Yes?" Lydia asked, curious. There was something vaguely
familiar about this girl, although she was pretty sure she'd never
seen her before.
"is this the adrics party?"
"It was *meant* to be," Lydia answered with a bit of heat, "but
yes, I guess it still is."
"oh, good. then we are at the correct place." The girl turned to
whisper over her shoulder. "this is the place, cain."
Lydia stepped aside as an enormous trenchcoated man entered,
his hand resting protectively on the girl's shoulder. After a quick,
suspicion-laden glance around the room, he tossed Lydia a dis-
armingly friendly smile.
"And you are?" Lydia made herself say as she looked up into his
smoldering eyes. Ooh, was he ever handsome! Taken, though, it
looked like.
"Cain," he replied simply. His face fell slightly. "Once of
Gallifrey. And this is... Ann."
The girl gave him a mildly reproving look, and Lydia noticed how
pale she looked, almost ghostly. "now, i don't think there's a need
for aliases here, cain." She smiled at Lydia, showing a pair of
*very* pronounced fangs. "but i suppose ann will do for now.
may we take a seat?"
"Uh, sure," Lydia replied, a bit shaken. She watched closely as
the two made their way to a back table, the throng of loonies and
fools parting before them.
"Who was _that_?" Peri demanded.
"I think I know..." Lydia chewed at her lip, trying to piece
together where she knew of a Time Lord named Cain and a vam-
pire who went by 'Ann' from. Before she could make the connec-
tions, though, there was another commotion at the door.
"Ladies, please! We _are_ under a truce right now!"
This time it was a Dalek in the doorway. A Dalek that had been
painted in an eye-bending pattern of blue and red stripes and
whose sucker-arm had been replaced by a jointed robotic arm
tipped in a four-fingered hand. This hand currently had one fin-
ger extended, which it shook slightly as it lectured its companions
in a deep, pleasant voice.
"I merely said that the barbarian should precede me into the room,"
said the woman on the right. She was in her twenties, short, and
dressed in a sort of flexible black body armor with a red hourglass
insignia on the left breast. A large gun, halfway between a rifle
and a pistol, was slung on her shoulder and a wickedly curved
combat knife was thrust through her belt. One hand brushed at
the hilt as she glared at the woman on the left.
"And I just said that I don't trust letting some glory-hungry
maniac walk behind me," the other woman shot back. She was
taller and older, with a black patch covering her left eye. Her
gray uniform seemed cheap and shabby next to the other's
ebony perfection, but the carbine on her shoulder looked just
as lethal. A serrate-edged vibroknife was half-drawn from its
sheath on her thigh.
"I'll show you who's a maniac," the woman in black replied in
a chilly voice. Her knife slipped into her hand.
"ENOUGH!" shouted the Dalek. "We are here for a *party*,
after all! You swore on your honor to uphold this truce, Legion
Commander." The Dalek's eyestalk focused on the black-clad
woman. "Will you break your word?" Without waiting for an
answer, he swivelled to the woman in gray. "And you, Sergeant!
I expected better behavior from you. Will you make me order you,
as your superior officer?"
Hands left hilts and both women looked properly chastened,
though they didn't stop glaring at each other.
"My apologies, Force Leader," the black-armored woman
replied.
"Sorry, Athicus," muttered the Sergeant.
The Dalek glanced between the two then, satisfied, turned to the
flabbergasted Lydia. "Pardon us, fair lady," he said in a smooth
and almost musical voice. "Might this be the Adric Awards view-
ing party?"
"Uh, yeah. And you are...?"
"I am Force Leader Athicus, Allied Central Command," the Dalek
replied, giving a snappy salute with his arm.
"Master Sergeant Kaytlin Donegan, Sixth Brigade, Shenandoah
Expeditionary Force." The one-eyed woman nodded to her. "Just
call me 'Sarge'."
"My real name and rank are unimportant to barbarians such as
yourselves," the younger woman said without inflection. "But I
am known among you as 'The Black Widow'. That will do."
"You get off on that nickname, don't you?" the Sarge spat as they
walked in.
The Black Widow shrugged and smiled sweetly at her foe. "That
name and a good fight are all that your kind has to offer me, *old
woman*..."
By now, Lydia was getting seriously creeped-out. Each of these
strange arrivals gave her a vague feeling of deja-vu, as though she
really _ought_ to know who they were, even though she'd never
seen them before in her life. The feeling nagged at her. Almost,
she found herself wishing she could be more like her cohorts in
'Shock Value'. They weren't the sorts to worry about things like
this. They never looked beyond the next evil plot or chance to get
laid. But, noooo. _She_ had to be the _sane_ one of the group.
"It seems a bit crowded, Highness," said a _very_ familiar voice
from behind her. Not again...
"So it is, Doctor." The speaker was a curly-haired woman in an
ornate and rather low-cut gown, a huge tiara on her head and a
jewel-encrusted sword on her hip. She turned to what was either
the Fifth Doctor or a pretty reasonable facsimile. "But fun and
sorrows are both best shared, are they not?"
"Indeed, my Empress," the Doctor intoned. "But there may be
assassins. Perhaps your soldiery could clear the room for us?"
"If I fall to such poltroons, I don't deserve the crown," she
replied with an airy wave. "But I don't wish to endanger others.
Not without need, at any rate. Let us return to the Palace, then.
I'll have Romana and Rodan summoned, and we can view the
proceedings in the Grail."
The two turned and were swallowed into the darkness.
Lydia stood stock-still. Something had finally connected in her
brain, and it was all starting to make sense. With the mentioning
of the Grail, everything became clear to her. She put on her best
Door-Warden face and set off across the room.
"You, there!" she called to 'Ann' and Cain as she strode to their
table. "You can't be here!"
"oh, dear. is there a problem?" The girl who called herself Ann
looked worried, while her companion merely glared as he held out
his arm to let a few drops of blood from a cut on his wrist fall into
her wineglass.
"I'll say there is! Your story hasn't been finished yet! This is a
party for currently-employed characters only, and 'Ill Met' still
hasn't seen the light of day."
'Ann' shuddered at the phrase 'light of day' and slid against her
Time Lord companion for comfort.
Lydia then rounded on the other newcomers, ignoring for the
moment the fact that the Sarge and the Black Widow were trying
their best to gut one another without Athicus seeing them. "And
'Only the Hunter' is still in the Unfinished bin, too!" she snapped.
"You lot must've been able to get here as a result of all those
screwed-up dimensional things Davros and the others set off.
I'm afraid you'll have to leave."
"Are you certain that we can't compromi--" the Dalek began, but
was cut off by his two compatriots as they set aside their quarrel
and turned to fix Lydia with an unfriendly three-eyed glare.
"You going to make us?" they growled in unison, giving each
other an irritated glare, then stepping toward Lydia.
Lydia gulped and noticed how ineffective her hockey stick
suddenly looked.
"i think we have a right to be here, as well," came Ann's frail
voice through the din. Her fangs gleamed in the pale light as
she joined the others. "i hope you aren't going to force me to
become rude..."
Suddenly, a great shout rang out:
"Hey everybody! The Adrics are on!"
(to be continued after the ceremony)
David S. Rubin
> THIS TIME ROUND: PARTY FAVORS
>
> by BKWillis
[big snip]
> "I'll say there is! Your story hasn't been finished yet!
[more snip]
> 'Only the Hunter' is still in the Unfinished bin, too!" she snapped.
[last snip]
> (to be continued after the ceremony)
And another story gets added to the 'Unfinished bin'...
cheers,
David S. Rubin <dav...@touro.edu>
Senior Lab Technician
Touro College - Lander Campus, Kew Garden Hills
(718) 820-4893
Paul Gadzikowski
>
> THIS TIME ROUND: PARTY FAVORS
> At the door, Lydia was beginning to get just a *wee* bit miffed.
> She clobbered the nearest target of opportunity with her hockey
> stick.
>
> "OWW!" Peri yelped, rubbing at her head. "What'd you do that
> for?"
>
> "I'm sorry," the Winona Ryder near-lookalike said, instantly con-
> trite. "I'm just getting frustrated because these idiots won't settle
> down." ("And because you get to work for an author with a brain,
> unlike the rest of us," she didn't add. "Maybe I should suck up to
> her, just in case she can get me a job working for Gadzikowski.")
It's flattering that another fanfiction author's character should hold me
in such regard. Maybe Lydia can be a bridesmaid. Uh oh, it's a month from
today till the deadline I gave myself for *that* story and I haven't
started writing it.
--
Paul Gadzikowski, scar...@iglou.com
http://members.iglou.com/scarfman
"There's no grand plan, no big win. If nothing we do matters then all that
matters is what we do. Now. Today."
Clive May
bradk...@aol.com "BKWillis" writes:
> THIS TIME ROUND: PARTY FAVORS
>
> by BKWillis
>
>
> [This Time Round, Reality Level +1.0 (the 'Shock Value' reality)]
*snip*
> This time it was a Dalek in the doorway. A Dalek that had been
> painted in an eye-bending pattern of blue and red stripes and
> whose sucker-arm had been replaced by a jointed robotic arm
> tipped in a four-fingered hand. This hand currently had one fin-
> ger extended, which it shook slightly as it lectured its companions
> in a deep, pleasant voice.
Up 'til this point, I'd just been chuckling to myself but this made me Laugh
Out Loud. I can sense here a great potential for a classic comedy character.
That hand just kills me...
He brought to mind the Kenny Everett creation: Brother Lee Love. He of the
huge expressive hands and evangelising fervour.
Notwithstanding the fact this is mostly an advert for up-coming works
teasingly trailed to whet the appetite for more BKWillis, it's still a
laugh a line.
Cheers
Clive
David S. Rubin
> In article <20010313002031...@ng-cq1.aol.com>
> bradk...@aol.com "BKWillis" writes:
>
> > This time it was a Dalek in the doorway. A Dalek that had been
> > painted in an eye-bending pattern of blue and red stripes and
> > whose sucker-arm had been replaced by a jointed robotic arm
> > tipped in a four-fingered hand.
>
>
> Notwithstanding the fact this is mostly an advert for up-coming works
> teasingly trailed to whet the appetite for more BKWillis, it's still a
> laugh a line.
heh - my first thought was that BK was borrowing one of Mistress Mel's
Daleks from Alden...
Cheers,
David S. Rubin <dav...@touro.edu>
[Rahvin (Guardian of the Knowledge, Mystical -<SHAMAN>-) on Mystic Adventures]
--
"What are words for when no-one listens anymore;
When no-one listens, it's no use talking at all."
"Words" - Missing Persons