|Amand-r whole/half heartedly apologizes to any Cassandra fans (no no! do not let this deter you! It is so miniscule! So unaffecting the cheer of the rest! Keep reading!), sorry gals and guys. She also apologizes to any Asylum members not directly mentioned or personified because she doesn't know them well enough to trust herself to write descriptions of them..she also apologizes to those mentioned, for the reversal of the same skewered reasons.
MacAINT boys and men! This one is for you! Oh, and I love Amanda too, but Methos wants his own show really bad. Perhaps one day we'll all get our Yuletide wish...
Methos, Amanda, and all that belong to Rysher: Davis/Panzer. and not to me. They are not my property. If they were, everyone would have their own show, or perhaps one BIG show, and stop aging like actual Immortals so as to make episodes for years to come, until my death, and perhaps even after that for my grandkids and the world in general (who says I ain't humanitarian?) And now for our feature presentation, almost in medeas res...
It is evening in the asylum...the Witching Hour, in fact. The bells in the tower strike twelve, and there is a creak of hinges, and soft footfalls echo in the hallways. The cells all face the main room. In the corner of the room (for this special occasion) someone has actually been allowed to play with matches, and has managed to keep the roaring fire in close proximity to the fireplace.
Methos appears, in a grey groggy sweater, precious feet bare. He holds a large leather-bound book in one of his hands. He settles by the fire, away from the cell doors, in a comfy damask chair. He smiles *that* smile.
Methos: Good evening, Beloveds.
(an insane cheer, rattling of cell bars, flying gobs of blue frosting, a cry from cell #38: "joejoejoe!")
Methos: Now, now, settle, settle...It's Yule, my lovelies, and that means it's time for a winter's tale...
(opens the book, the room immediately quiets)
Methos: Here we go. "There once was Duncan the Immortal, Whose morals caused us to chortle-- ah...I think this is the wrong book.
Jam-wired: (stepping in and snatching the book, replacing it with another) Sorry sir, technical difficulties.
Methos: (disgruntled) Yes, very well then. (opens the book, turns a few pages) This is much better. Are you ready?
(much screaming. faint calls of "joejoejoe!" Methos begins to recite):
"T'was the night before Yultide and all through the cells,
The Tipplers made catcalls and hollers, and yells..."
(whistling, hands waving out bar windows and doors. someone yells "strip! strip!" some take up the chant, others mutter that they love him for his mind, and he looks fine as he is. Methos slams the book down)
Methos: Now, listen ladies. I'm here to read this, and I'm going to do it, not the full monty. And I've seen the asylum walls ladies, I've been to your Forum! I am not taking off any clothes to satisfy some perverse need for skin. That is what the Splendour In The Grass fru is for.
("awws" all around. from cell #49 there is a "shucks." a sniffle starts in cell #2 --cell #1 is conspiciously open and empty-- and makes it all the way down to ward 13. then wailing, and much rattling of bars. a ball of yarn flies out of cell #8 and hits Methos in the face.)
Methos: Okay! Okay! Fine! One article of clothing!
(there ia a cry of "PANTS!" from cell #50, and he glares in that direction.)
Methos: Not the pants. The sweater.
(he stands, pulls off the sweater, and tossing it to the cells, both #12 and #13 catch it. there is a tug of war, and finally --shripp!--it tears in two. triumphant hands wave their trophies and then wiggle back inside their door bars. much giggling ensues.)
Methos: Now, where were we? (settles back into chair, sweaterless. he is wearing a t-shirt. darn.)
Methos: Here we are.
T'was the night before Yuletide, and all through the cells,
The Tipplers made catcalls, and hollers, and yells,
The inmates were chatting, and hanging from poles,
Their straightjackets were ragged, and some had big holes,
Jam-wired had escaped to go work on her pages,
All showed their obsession in varying stages.
When out on the lawn came the neigh of a horse!
The girls sprung their cells to discover the source.
Jam-wired grabbed a lantern, Black Widow a torch,
Amand-r her lighter, all ran for the porch.
They crept down the hallways, not tripping the alarms,
Wild hair and wide eyes, leather restraints on their arms--
Methos: (frowning) Leather restraints? We have to have restraints?
Jam-wired: (leaning in kissably close---she's trying folks...) Just Amand-r and Rebecca. Everyone else gets away with the jackets. No one means you bodily harm, except Cassie...
Methos: (worriedly) Cassandra? Here? Where?
Jam-wired: (even closer) Not to worry sir. In the basement. You can pelt her with fruit later.
Methos: (muscles un-tensing) Ah yes, maybe later. You have guavas?
Jam-wired: (grinning) For you, I'd grow a guava, sir.
Methos: (smilimg warmly) That won't be necessary. But might I have a-- (jam-wired hands him a PWA. he smiles and takes it, surprised.) Thank you, jam. (jam swoons.)
Jam-wired: He said my name! Yes! He finally said my name! Months of trying to patch it together from wav files and finally he said it for real!
Methos: Now, back to the story. (bars rattle. methos glances up. there is a call from cell #45: "joejoejoe!") You wait! Not now! You want me to finish this? (the room immediately quiets) There. Now:
And 'lo! A pale rider appeared up on the green!
It was him! "It is Methos!" all started to scream.
Methos took off his mask, clasped his cloak by the catches,
And said to jam-wired, "You shouldn't have matches."
After bowing and scraping and passing out cold,
The inmates somewhat sobered and became rather bold,
So they turned on the power, and broke out the ale,
Campbell made all blue frosting, some dark and some pale.
And they pampered the loved one, and sang him some Queen,
In a four part girls' harmony that sounded quite keen.
"Now now," Methos said as they plied him with beer,
They rubbed his sore tootsies and cooed in his ear,
"I can't stay for long, I've so much more to do,
To visit MacWench, BBGL, and MacFru 1 and 2,
"I've been to my Harem, and D@mn and MacWoW,
Staying as long as the time would allow.
"All those others like you who adore what I say,
All the comments I make and the 'games' that I play,
"For my sarcastic lines and my cynical views,
That irk the Highlander, and sometimes Joe too,
"But you love and forgive me because I seem sweet,
You *thunk* over my nose and my hands and my feet,
"You forgive me my pasts and you claim I have changed,
And you scorn all dissenters and say they're deranged,
"And for all of those things you are dear to my heart,
And not crazy at all...well, for the most part."
Then he gave them their presents, some cases of beer,
And a Jim Byrnes CD the whole complex could hear,
And they gave him a gift of a sweater in blue,
That turned his grey eyes a spectacular hue.
Then he blew all some kisses and got on his horse,
He checked the North Star to determine his course,
And then, wrapped in his sweater, he snatched up the reins,
And tossed all some Henleys, and blue candy canes,
All cheered and waved and bade teary goodbye,
He turned, his frame profiled in a moon-filling sky,
And he rode from the grounds, then they all heard him say:
"Don't forget, live, grow stronger, fight another day!"
Methos: "And then Methos slid his hand up her silky thigh. She shivered, and licked her lips. 'I am Methos,' he said, a smile teasing his mouth. 'You live to serve me.' Then he ran his hand..." oh my, what's this?
Jam-wired: Uh, sir?
Methos: (distracted) Huh? Oh, (chuckles at the book) I do that? Lovely...
Jam-wired: Sir, um, that's all sir. The rest is, um, Amand-r's um, well, uh...
Methos: (arching an eyebrow) What?
Jam-wired: (coughing) Fanfic, sir.
Methos: (sighs) Oh, all right...
(he hands over the book. jam takes it and clutches it to her bosom dreamily.)
Methos: Well then, beloveds, I suppose it is time to take my leave. Joe is making Duncan and me dinner, so---
(cells 38 and 45: "joejoejoe!")
Methos: Yes, Joe will be there...(aside)...and if I'm ever feeling sadistic, I'll send him here. Back to your...activities, Ladies.
(he rises. cell #21 whoops and Queen's "One Vision" blares out of the Asylum's sound system. jam leads him out of the room and down the hallways. a hand snakes out of cell #63 and hits his shoulder. "k'immie!" the inmate screeches. Methos faces the cell)
Methos: One, my name starts with an "M" not a "K", and two, I'm not like that anymore.
(blue frosting flies across the room and hits him in the face, a squirt gun pokes out of cell #47 and sprays him with PWA)
Methos: Although sometimes I seriously consider reverting...
(jam-wired pulls on his arm)
Jam-wired: Poor sweetie. Have a towel--Quink! (a towel flies out from cell #19, and jammy catches it, wiping his face as they proceed down the hall) You have to get out of here. I noticed during your recital that her cell is open. If she finds you it'll all be over.
(Amand-r appears, dissheveled, hair wild, straightjacket ties trailing, the arms of it over her hands like demented mittens.)
Amand-r: M-m-m-m-m-master? M-m-m-methos? (jam sighs)
Jam-wired: Oh, f-(censored).
Methos: (to jam) Is, is this bad? She looks so small and helpless.
Jam-wired: Uh huh. Say that now. (under her breath) No sudden moves.
Amand-r: This is for you, Methos. (she hands him a cardboard box. he takes it dubiously.)
Methos: Thank you, what is it?
Amand-r: From some of us, Methos, Master, in the basement, we...
Methos: (opening the box, and looking inside) Oh my Gods...oh, no...this is--
Amand-r: (proudly) Yes Master, we took her head.
Methos: (dropping the box) But I never...oh I can't believe you...oh, the Quickening...?
Amand-r: (sullen and grumbling) Rebecca got it. I always knew she was an Immortal.
Methos: (stunned, backing away...aside) Oh, they're all insane here...(to Amand-r) Wonderful! This is...lovely!
Amand-r: (beaming and groveling) Thank you Master! Merry Yule Methos!
Methos: (reaching out to tentatively pat her shoulder) Yes, well, you too, Amand-r...I have to go now, Bora Bora and all...(backing away and retreating)
Methos: (turning) Yes?
Amand-r: (holding out an envelope) Your new identity Master, and this, from Dana (holding out a floppy 3 1/2" diskette) your sarcastic retort book, scanned to disk and updated.
Methos: Oh yes, (takes them suspiciously) Thank you, Amand-r.
Amand-r: (bowing and scraping) No no no, thank you master!
(Methos walks away from the girl, jam-wired at his elbow with a clipboard. Methos dictates notes.)
Methos: Give Cell #19 more ale, and #29 too, aw hell, give them all more beer. Except her-- (waves back at Amand-r, who is still giggling, twirling her hair, and spinning in circles, flapping her arms and crying "wheeeeee!") I think she's had enough. Who is she again?
Jam-wired: Amand-r, sir.
Methos: Oh, just give her a Snickers bar.
Jam-wired: (raising an eyebrow) Are you sure that's wise, sir?
(Methos considers Amand-r, looks at the box in his hands, and stops. Amand-r ceases spinning, falls on the tiles, flapping her arms and legs, crying "I'm a guardian angel! Look!" Much giggling ensues.)
Methos: Perhaps not. Just, keep an eye on her. She can't keep writing all this fanfic, post on five forums, PWP, run a Clan, and a website, save the universe from spam bunnies, maintain a job, and pass her teacher's exams. She'll break.
Jam-wired: (eyebrow getting higher) She hasn't already, Sir?
(Methos opens his envelope and discovers that his new passport lists his name as "Blue Boxer God." Sighs.)
Methos: I suppose you're right. What would I do without you, Jam?
Jam-wired: (looking seductive) Be lonely, I suppose.
Methos: (grinning devilishly) Yes, be lonely. You know, this is the best site I've seen on the web.
Jam-wired: (smiling) I try.
Methos: Say, what are you doing later? Want to grab a beer? Maybe watch Bladerunner?
Jam-wired: Well, I yeah, oh...*thunk*
Yay! Merry Christmas, Jammy!
And now, because what's good for the geese is grrrrrreat for the ganders...
Amanda Spreads X-Mas Cheer at MacAINT!!!
Methos and Jam-wired open the door for Amanda. Light from the top of the steps that lead down into the MacAINT ward, otherwise known to some as "the dark chasm." It is deadly silent, except for the occasional sound of heavy breathing. Do not be misled. This is the calm before the storm.
Methos: Amanda, take my advice, and stay away from the plexiglass.
(Jam-wired hands Amanda a bag. She glances in it.)
Amanda: The riot helmet I understand, but that is this?
Jam-wired: A spatula
Amanda: But what's it for?
Methos: (grinning maliciously) You'll see...oops! Plane to catch. Bali and all...
Jam-wired: (suspiciously) Hey, I thought it was Bora Bora. Sir.
Methos: (looking innocent) Did I say Bora Bora? I meant Tahiti.
Methos: Yes, Bali, right.
Amanda: Hey! What about me? You want me to go down and see them or not? (she points down the staircase)
Methos: Oh, yes, absolutely!
Jam-wired: They'd love it!
Amanda: (smugly) Good. I can't wait to meet them. I mean, how many people have fans so crazy for them they're institutionalized?
Methos: (muttering) Jodie Foster...
Amanda: Right, yes, but that was only one guy.
Methos: You're right you know, you should go down there.
Jam-wired: Okay, Amanda, the rules: The firehose is primed and ready in case of an emergency. If anything is dripping anywhere, don't touch it. Oh, and Amanda?
Amanda: (looking worried) Yes?
Methos: If they say strip, just do it.
Methos: (rolling his eyes) Because the alternative is unthinkable. Besides if they lose interest in us, if we don't supply to their demands, they'll find other television characters to obsess over.
Methos: (petting jam's head) Well, maybe not you. But who knows? Maybe one day I'll come to the asylum to discover that it has been redecorated in "Felicity" or "Friends" wallpaper!
Jam-wired: (shuddering) Euch...
Amanda: He's just nervous because he doesn't have his own show. His fans have to rely on a concrete number of episodes and a bunch of fanfic where it is very easy to mischaracterize him.
Methos: (grinning knowingly) For now.
Jam-wired: Well, we gotta go. (pushes Amanda down the first three steps)
Amanda: But what about---
Methos: Nope, bye! Have fun!
(they slam the door on Amanda's cries for a flashlight. jam turns to Methos.)
Jam-wired: Quick, while she's locked up, grab her time slot!
(jam pulls a lever and opens the doors to the MacMINT cells. women in various states of straightjacket undress flood the halls, whooping. there is a bomb-like explosion, and suddenly everything is covered in blue paint.)
Jam-wired: Onward, lunatics! To Rysher! Find the gurus Panzer and Davis! We must make demands!
Methos: (in the damask chair. Star Dancing is rubbing his feet, Nutmeg is pouring him a beer.) Yes! Yes! Go! Return with their heads! Figuratively, Amand-r!
Amand-r: (stopping, running towards the camera and raising her hands.) Cry havoc and let loose the dogs of war!
Meanwhile, inside the basement...Amanda examines the lock. She pulls out a pick and strats to work at it.
Amanda: They should know better than to lock up a lock-picker. I'll show him, that little timeslot-stealing, blue frosting, wannabe...
(voices begin to chant from below: "man-da, man-da, man-da." Amanda, working on the lock, screams behind her.)
Amanda: Not now guys! A girl is trying to work here!
(the chanting stops)
Lone Writer: But, where's our Christmas cheer?
Amanda: I'm a little busy right now.
Nickster: But, Amand-r wrote all this stuff for MacMINT! They have like 15 wards! We only have two! We need some recognition!
Lone Writer: But, Christmas cheer!
Amanda: (stops picking lock) Cheer? Yo want cheer? I give you cheer--
(Amanda wiggled out of her underwear, and throws them down the steps. There is much wolf calling, Wolfe calling, and Amanda grins.)
Nickster: Yeah! Hit it!
(a spotlight shines on Amanda on the steps, then burlesque music starts. Amanda seems to consider this for a second, then shrugs, smiles, and puts her hands on her hips, starting to sing "Cabaret.")
Amanda: Why sit at home alone in your room? Come hear the music play..."
(there is much screaming, whistling. Amanda winks at the camera.)
Fade to black...
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!
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