CATEGORY: It's a spoof, folks, a gentle-ish spoof. Sort of.
SUMARY: The ATXFC Annual Beauty Pageant and Weenie Roast
DISCLAIMER: Any similarity to persons living or dead means I did my job
BETA READ: By no one, as will no doubt be obvious. My God (as WMM would
say), do you think I want to drag anyone else down with me?
SPOOKY AWARD ELIGIBILITY: If nominated, I shall not run. If elected, I
shall not serve. Thank you.
"People," hollered Blue Lightning, raising her voice to be heard above
the restless crowd. "People! Settle down please! Our special guests are
here," she gestured to David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson, seated
uncomfortably on stools at the end of the stage runway, squinting
suspiciously at the motley bunch on stage. They were also squinting
suspiciously at each other, since, though Duchovny was sure 99% of the
fics up for awards were inspired by his stunning bod and unmatched
savoir faire, he had heard a rumor that Anderson's agent had negotiated
an appearance fee for her equal to his own. He kept his face carefully
blank, though those who knew him best could read his expression. Damned
equal rights. Anderson, meanwhile, surreptitiously stroked the small
tattoos circling her ankle, one for each of her assorted Emmys, SAG
awards, and Golden Globes, in a way that she knew irritated Duchovny no
end. She composed her face into what only those who had studied her
intimately would know was a satisfied smile.
The assorted Ladies and Gentleman of ATXFC, all dolled up with no place
to go (though rumor had it the FBI was throwing a charitable-- er,
charity ball later) shifted restlessly out of the carefully composed
groups into which they had been assembled on stage. Blue Lightning and
her trusty sidekicks had tried their best, really they had, and each
Bitter Young FanFic Princess had been carefully separated from each
Bitter Old FanFic Queen by at least one Soon To Be Bitter Lady in
Waiting (Not Eligible this year, and wondering if sticking around till
next year was really such a Good Idea) and one Smutty Young fanFic
Scullery Maid. However, the formation of cliques and cabals, momentary
alliances and mutual masturbation societies, had been almost impossible
On one side of the stage, the two lovely ladies who had shared the
preliminary Hostess with the Mostest TOS'ds stood next to each other.
The one in the green silk dress, complete with a delicate pattern which
suggested scales, blew smoke out her nose, and muttered that as soon as
this spoof was over, she was going to warm up her Super Duper ISP
Identifying Thingy and dead4sure would be. The other pulled nervously at
her lacy white gloves and tried to ignore the maternal voice from the
audience calling "BiBi! Lean down and show 'em what you've got!"
On the other side of the stage, Tenota Hong and Hong Nadate stood next
to each other. It was easy to see, for anyone who was willing to look,
that they were Not, in fact, the Same Person, for though each was
grumbling, they were focused on separate gripes entirely. Tenota was
announcing to any who would listen that she expected to see Nick Lea
here pronto, and if he didn't show, she was outta here, while Hong
Nadate was grumbling to anyone else who would listen that she didn't
recognize *anyone* and who *were* all these people and this thing had
been so much better three years ago.
Closer to the center, the quadrumvirate which made up the Smut Sisters
(collectively known as Dasherma 99 Raeton), peered speculatively down
the stage at Duchovny, who was giving them his best "panic" look. They
wondered amongst themselves if he had heard yet about the contract they
had just signed, for a calender and How To book, both entitled "12
Creative Things To Do With a Certain Portion of David Duchovny's
Anatomy". They assured themselves giddily that they were a best bet to
beat Martha Stewart hands down (so to speak) on the bestseller lists
Next to them stood the winner of the swimsuit competition, R.U. Jimmy
Ray (though there were those who said, not without cause, that he was
very lucky that high heels were still mandatory, since without them, the
boy unfortunately had legs which must be considered merely mediocre). He
whispered into the ear of the chesty bottle blonde next to him, "Relax,
your plausible deniability is still intact." The blond said "Jeez, I'm
so nervous. What I wouldn't give for an iced tea and a blow." R.U.
Looked down the stage at the target of the bottle blonde's gaze. "You're
outta luck there, bud," he said sympathetically, nodding at a suddenly
stiff-with-terror Anderson. "But, hey! here comes someone with a monster
rep in that department." He nodded to the other side of the stage where
Nick Lea had made a belated appearance, leaning over to kiss Duchovny on
the lips and shake Anderson's hand, thereby setting off another round of
loud murmuring in the audience. The chesty bottle blonde yelped "Ack!"
while from the other side of the stage, Tenota Hong could be heard
squeaking "Eek!" Tenota and the blonde each started to move (though in
opposite directions, of course) and were barely restrained by the
contestants on either side of them.
"People, please," whimpered Blue Lightning. She was exhausted. From the
raggedy opening number (to a Madonna remix version of the old disco hit
'You're a Shining Star', complete with tap dancing and sparklers), to
the disastrous moment when that damned John Blowharder had jumped up
onto the stage from the audience, spittle flying from the corner of his
mouth, screaming 'YOU'RE DOING THIS ALL WRONG', and had been tackled by
another audience member, Betti Hitman, with a glint and her eye and a
dental drill in her hand, egged on by both contestants and audience,
screaming 'Drill him, Drill him! DRILL HIM!', this whole thing had
bumped from one crisis to another.
Blue Lightning could only thank her lucky stars that the two kibbitzers
off to the side, Lalique Lalala, and Miss Enough Already, had been happy
with their preliminary win in the Other/Other category, and had managed
to keep waste of bandwidth to a minimum for a change. The talent
contest, a potential disaster of monumental proportions, had also gone
well, thankfully, won by Exene Journey, who had wowed both judges and
audience with her ability to drag Kenneth Star into a small room,
perform a monumental rant, then drag him out blubbering five minutes
later, sobbing 'I was so wrong,' and ready to jump a plane back to
Washington, to stop that other weenie roast, already in progress.
Someone must be looking out for her, thought Blue Lightning, since
Exene's win came narrowly at the expense of Mywayorthehighway
Motormouth, and his sonorous reading of the gripping opening chapter of
'Lord Jim', which had put half the judges, three quarters of the
audience, and most of the neighboring county to sleep. Permanently. The
remaining judges had been so impressed with the sheer X-Fileness of it
all, they had wanted to give the award to Motormouth, but nobody could
Blue Lightning shook off the image of the deadly ending to that contest,
and looked around desperately, wondering where Terrifka and Sally the
Horse had got to. The category for Least Carteresque (And Thank God For
It) was coming up and they were sure to be contenders. She bet they had
snuck off to whip out another 5,397 page epic, wherein Mulder and
Scully, unrecognizable as themselves, open up a combination orphanage
and deli-counter (kosher) and save the world on weekends, after soccer
practice. Where was security, for Pete's sake? "Lawson," she called out,
"Lawson Rumble-in-the-Jungle, are you out there?" A hulking shape loomed
out of the shadows behind her.
"Here, Ma'am," the shadowy figure said. "I was out checking the
perimeter, setting the emotion detectors and the laser guided popguns."
"Well," said Lightning irritably, "did you detect any emotion?"
"All kinds," ground out Lawson. "Envy, greed, hope, fear, jealously, and
smug certainty. We got 'em all."
"Ah, said Lightning, with an evil cackle, her alternate personality
emerging briefly, (due to stress, Lawson supposed). "Just as I had
planned, I'll set them against each other, and they'll spend all their
time sniping at each other, and then all those good X-Files ideas will
be mine! All mine!"
Lawson blinked, suddenly noting the silvery glint in Lightning's hair,
the flip-flops on her feet, and the sand between her toes. "You!" he
gasped. "I heard a rumor that you were someone else, but I never guessed
it was you!"
"I am the creator," intoned the figure beside him. "Fear my wrath,
Blue Lightning gave a start and watched Lawson slink away. She'd drifted
off for a moment. "All right, listen up!" she shouted, strangely
invigorated, "Let's get this show on the road! Next category!"
And the rest was history.
Which, as we all know, is always written by the winners...
Actually, my friends all call me St. CiCi, Martyr of the TOS.
Gives me a certain musty-tragic air I enjoy.
(who *won't* lean down for anyone but Mr. Lean honey...)
Dreamshpr wrote in message
That was hilarious!
Go, lemmings, go!
If ALL the posts could be like this, no one would have any problems at all.
Sarah Ellen Parsons
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Ah well. It was cute.
It's true that every time you hear a bell, an angel gets its wings. But what
they don't tell you is that, every time you hear a mouse trap snap, an angel
gets set on fire.
Imajiru gave me a home! http://unicorn-x.net/te/
"I am not an angry girl/but it seems like I've got
everyone fooled/everytime I say something they find
hard to hear/they chalk it up to my anger/and never
to their own fear- Ani DiFranco
"but how often is too often?"
>TITLE: You'll Never Eat Lunch With This Newsgroup Again
Somehow I get the idea a lunch with this newsgroup would put most
people off food.
(who loved it, btw!)
this was lovely
Focussed on Nick Lea
I beat Ken Starr! I beat Ken Starr!
You don't *know* what a tickle that was.
Journ...@aol.com, BYFP, not BOFQ
MORE Skinner, Save Spender, Can Kersh, Flush Fowley.
"God Bless America! Now get your asses out of here!" 1939!Skinner, Triangle
"Oh yeahhhh!" Mitch Pileggi, Season 3 Gag Reels. :-)
Here ya go,
> TITLE: You'll Never Eat Lunch With This Newsgroup Again
> On one side of the stage, the two lovely ladies who had shared the
> preliminary Hostess with the Mostest TOS'ds stood next to each other.
Eh, why not? Heck we can make it part of the FAQ!
Or maybe the "anti-FAQ."
The Circle of CiCi
I got caught by RL and forgot to mention that I had already gotten
a copy of this. Thanks anyway.