"OK, people, my next topic is 'Flashbacks'," said MacLeod to his audience of young immortals in the auditorium.
"Now, flashbacks are an essential part of the immortal life, as they reveal just how old you are, your history..." MacLeod started.
"...And just how senile you've become, when your idle thoughts turn into full scale epics," finished Methos from somewhere in the audience.
Scattered, and in some cases, knowing laughter greeted this. MacLeod, after his last somewhat embarrassing attack of anger at Methos, decided for a new strategy.
//I think I'll just ignore him// he thought. //Yeah, I'll show them all how much more mature I am. No... Even better... I'll make them feel sorry for me, for always being the butt end of his jokes//
So, after resolving this and inwardly ignoring Methos' quip, MacLeod pulled a full-scale pout followed by the well known puppydog face.
//If this doesn't get to them, I don't know what will// he thought.
The audience, he noticed, were murmuring expressions of sympathy at him, much to his delight. A few turned around in the direction of Methos, and glared 'how could you say such hurtful things to the poor l'il cutie' looks. Methos shot an 'I'll get you for this Macleod' look up on stage, even though MacLeod couldn't see him.
MacLeod suddenly decided it would probably be an interesting strategy to reveal the secret of his looks to further impress his audience. This decision came after realising, correctly, that Methos would probably reveal them first and in a less sympathetic way, if he didn't hurry up and start.
"Actually, before going completely onto the topic of Flashbacks, I would just like to briefly make some points on those very sincere expressions you just saw on my face." He paused to demonstrate again. "Very good strategy, these expressions, I reckon. Saved my head many times. When in danger, always have a few pouty expressions ready to evoke sympathy. Works wonders."
After checking to see if the audience was reacting badly to his confession, he continued on relieved:
"Well," he sighed. "Onto flashbacks."
"I'll start with my thoughts on flashback timing. For example, it would not be a wise idea to have a flashback in the middle of a busy road. When all of you get a little older, you'll get the honour of flashbacks, though you will probably get carried away and flashback at everything. I remember going through that stage. It was pretty embarrassing until I learnt to control it."
"Remember going through it...? Learnt to control it...? Uhh...MacLeod, I think you're seeing the future there, because you definitely aren't talking about the present," yelled out Methos.
Expertly ignoring Methos and the stifled laughter, MacLeod continued on.
"Just to repeat myself: Watch where you flashback - and remember to pick up your copy of 'Flashbacks: Enlightening or embarrassing?' along with the safety regulation manual, in the foyer. Some examples of where not to have a flashback are - at stop lights, in front of another evil immortal, in the company of a mortal who won't understand your ...unusual... habit, while watching a theatre production because hours later you may still be sitting there. And lastly, do not flashback where you can cause havoc or inconvenience. For instance, having a flashback caused by spinning doors is unwise, as you'll block people's path, though granted, in my case not many people are willing to pick up and move a huge highland warrior from revolving doors. By the way, be careful not to rise from your flashback to find yourself in a shop window after being mistaken for a shop mannequin. That is, if you flashbacked in a department store."
MacLeod paused to realign his thoughts. "I'll bring your attention to a personal example of mine." MacLeod's expression changed as if he was about to have a flashback about his flashback example, then quickly recovered and continued on.
"Cooking dinner. NEVER flashback while cooking dinner," He shuddered at an obviously painful, and by his expression, possibly embarrassing memory. His expression changed to one of reminiscence.
"It was last year. I was in my dojo, preparing the base for my homemade pizza. I had reached the stage of flipping the flattened yeast, as us professionals do," he added smugly. "And then suddenly...It happened. I was watching the pizza base spin through the air and the flashback of a primitive, frisby shaped weapon which an old immortal enemy of mine used in my final battle against him, suddenly hit me. I watched the flashback. Though halfway through, I began feeling dizzy. I thought it was just a reaction that the flashback was giving me, but no. I arose from my thoughts to find myself standing in the kitchen, with the pizza dough on my face and it was suffocating me! I scratched at my face, trying to dislodge the pizza, but to no avail. It was too late! I was too weak! I died!" MacLeod paused at the shock of the memory. He thought he heard a few desperately stifled giggles, but he could have just been imagining them.
"You have no idea how embarrassing it is to revive after that. Especially if a friend had found you there." Duncan glared quickly in Methos' direction to see if the old man would reveal that the 'friend' was actually him, but luckily he heard nothing. Then suddenly...
"Death by PIZZA!"
Methos burst out in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, triggering off the rest of the audience. "Hahahaha!...ahhhh...I remember ...In all my years, I swear that was the funniest thing I have ever seen!...mmmm..." he calmed down slightly, treasuring the memory of walking in on MacLeod, lying on the kitchen floor with a pizza base covering his face, which had a desperately ripped breathing hole in its middle.
MacLeod became slightly amused himself by the thought of his accident, though wasn't about to let Methos know it. He attempted to calm himself down by concentrating on the memory of the frisby guy he killed.
"Oh, yeah," he mumbled into the microphone. "Frisby guy..."
Methos realised what was about to happen, and also remembered hearing once that when the Highlander becomes particularly emotional over a period of time, that he usually flashbacks actively.
//Oh, no...// he thought. //He's going to blame this one on me...// He paused his thoughts for a moment. //Oh... Actually, it probably is my fault. Great. That doesn't help//
Looking back up on stage, he realised he was too late to stop the impending disaster.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!" MacLeod screamed in a deep, guttural war cry.
"Oh no... He's already had this flashback. How unprofessional," Methos mumbled, mimicking MacLeod's serious lecturing tone of voice, before finally deciding there was nothing he could do now but sit back and watch the show.
The invisible war began on stage.
"I am Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod!" yelled out MacLeod in a thick Scottish accent, as he came charging across the stage/battlefield toward his invisible opponent. An invisible sword was unsheathed and waved ferociously at a stunned stage-hand, who turned and ran for his life. MacLeod then stopped just short of a curtain, and began a savage attack at its drapery.
"I wish he would learn to control that," murmured Methos, hiding his head in his hands.
After about five minutes of blood-thirsty battle, which made even the curtain feel a little embarrassed, MacLeod pushed back his opponent, and spoke: "I dinnae do it! It wasnae me!" He then pushed back at the invisible man and began another attack. By now, half the audience were waging bets on how many more minutes the invisible man would hold out for. Finally, after seven minutes, the invisible man had apparently fallen to his knees, and the sound of a 'Yesss! I win!' came from the audience.
"I really hope he grows out of this soon. God, I hope I wasn't that embarrassing when I was his age...," Methos wished.
MacLeod, exhausted, stood over a rather unlucky light control box and raised his invisible sword over his head.
"There can be only one," spoke MacLeod forcefully, and the sword dropped into the light control systems, short circuiting the power supply to the stage. A few people in the front row of the auditorium looked suspiciously for a rolling head at their feet, and desperately wished they had sat further back.
Suddenly, MacLeod's body jerked with the anticipation of the invisible quickening.
"I can't watch this. I really can't watch this," said Methos under his breath, while making no effort to turn away.
The quickening took MacLeod suddenly, and he screamed as his body jerked up, and his arms threw themselves back. At the same time, all lighting on stage became to spark , and the actual control box that had just been decapitated began to fry and burst into an electric light show.
"Damn. Talk about a lucky coincidence," Methos murmured. "He's actually managed to create a pretty good mock lightning effect up there. Show off."
A wobbling effect started to take place in MacLeod - starting from his knees and ending up in his neck as he was thrown to the ground in a dramatic fall. The screaming continued as the wobbling motion happened again, then finally and abruptly ended as the fake quickening had obviously finished. The control box nicely aligned its final death with the end of MacLeod's quickening, in one impressive finale.
"Impressive. Very impressive," admitted Methos finally, forgetting all his previous quips about MacLeod's over-acting during quickenings.
Slowly, MacLeod surfaced from the flashback, and looked up cautiously to take in his surroundings.
"Ohhhhh nooooo...," he whispered.
Silence fell on the auditorium. Then a few nervous coughs came from various ends of the audience. More silence followed as the stunned audience tried to decide what to do. The deep blush that was already beginning to conquer the entire of MacLeod was well on its way past his neck barrier. He tried to think of something to say. And finally came up with...
"Well...what? Like half of you lot haven't done that before."
More blank stares from the audience. Duncan blushed even redder, if that was possible. Then an idea came to him and he continued on in a huskier, rougher voice.
"Weelllll...I did that deliberately to show you just how a quickening should be done...Yeah..."
He tried a pout, followed by a puppydog look for good measure, just to make sure the full effect registered on them. He saw it starting to work, then...
"That won't work on us anymore, MacLeod. You already told us that you do that to provoke a reaction, and we're not falling for it," yelled out Methos.
Duncan turned a full-scale glare on Methos that nearly knocked a few people in its path off their seats. Silence fell between them, as an all-out staring competition took place. While MacLeod had the anger to prolong his assault, Methos did have 5000 years practice, so therefore was, after a full ten minutes, the champion.
"Damn," muttered MacLeod. "OK, on to swords," he snapped abruptly.
MacLeod drew in a deep breath, and began.
"Now, you all must have noticed that us older immortals have this amazing ability to hide our swords in places that seem to defy reality, as they just shouldn't be able to fit. Now, I won't reveal my secret to you, as in time, you will all discover it yourself. And anyway, you'll have to suffer through the awkwardness of wearing an trenchcoat every time you fight, just like I used to. You are probably wondering what the problem with the trenchcoat is. Well, I'll tell you. Ever wondered how difficult it is to take off a trenchcoat while you have a sword in one hand, *and* while trying to stop someone from decapitating you? I'm telling you, if you come across an opponent with a trenchcoat, then you might be lucky enough to be able to take their head while their arms are stuck in their coat. So, to sum that up - once you have mastered the reality-defying clothing trick, then you won't need to awkwardly yank off a trenchcoat in a hurry. I admit, I still do use my trenchcoat, as in time it gets easier to take off with each fight, as I'll demonstrate to you all now."
MacLeod walked over to the side of the stage and took his folded-up trenchcoat off a chair, and returned back. He unfolded it, pulled it on, and then took his sword out.
"Woooooahh!" said about every person, except Methos, in the audience.
Various comments could be heard around the room:
"Where on earth did he get it from?..."
"It wasn't in his trenchcoat because that was folded up too small.."
"God! I wish I could do that!..."
MacLeod smirked proudly and proceeded closer to the microphone.
"Now, everyone, watch how quickly I pull the coat off..."
In one swift movement, MacLeod eased an arm out of one sleeve, then expertly threw his sword into his other hand, and did the same to the other sleeve. The coat then smoothly fell to the floor.
Admiring applause filled the auditorium.
Suddenly, the buzz indicating an approaching immortal sounded in everyone's ears. Everyone in the room turned around, to see who the new-comer was. A man stood at the doorway looking extremely sheepish.
"Sorry," he mumbled, embarrassed. "Just went for a toilet break," he admitted. The stares continued, and he felt he should explain himself further. "Well, I drank too much of the cordial didn't I? Christ, just because I'm immortal doesn't mean I have god-like control over my bladder." He stalked quickly back to his seat. The attention was once again back on MacLeod.
"Ahhh, thank you for reminding me, kid. I wanted to mention 'The Buzz'."
He paused for a moment to compose his thoughts.
"Now, as you all know, when you came into this seminar you had to pass the 'Buzz' test to check you all were really immortals. That was when you all lined up in turn on the white line on the floor in the foyer, and your buzz was registered with Personnel here. Anyway, what I'm pointing out is that you need to learn how to notice the buzz in a professional way. It's no good just standing there and not making any outward sign that you noticed it. Look, I'll demonstrate a typical reaction to a buzz."
MacLeod carefully blanked his face, and then suddenly raised his head back a little, as if listening to something. He then began an eyebrow raise, then wrinkled the middle of his forehead. This was followed by nostrils being expanded, and finally, to top the whole composition off, his eyes began to expand, then retract, then expand again in a casual roll of the eyeball. Suddenly this display finished and applause once again auplauded to his ego.
"OK, that's all for that topic, so I'll move on to the Art of Subtle Comments.
"Now, as an immortal, you're expected to be slightly mysterious to mortal people. Strategically placed subtle comments add to this sense of mystery. When talking to mortal friends or strangers who don't know you're an immortal, well placed cryptic comments such as: 'You have no idea how long...' or, 'He's a very, very old friend...' or even, 'Yes...I remember him...that was a long time ago...,' are particularly effective. A great one to use, and one of my favourites, is to have a mysterious, smug or cryptic look when someone says something along the lines of : 'Well, no one lives forever'." These do wonders to add an alluring sense of mystery to your overall appearance."
MacLeod paused once again, apparently in thought.
//Now, what have I forgotten...?// he thought. //Ahhhh//
"Now ladies and gentlemen, we are nearing the end of this seminar." A few mock groans echoed around the room. "I suppose I only have one more topic to cover quickly, and that is creating the false illusion of your fighting skills to trick other immortals. Now, what comes to mind as an example, is when my Clansman, Connor MacLeod came to visit me a few years back. We were arguing over who should fight an immortal who was annoying us both, and Connor sneakily decided to punch me out so he could fight the immortal himself. Now, it only took one slight punch to knock me out which I'm lucky he didn't become suspicious about, considering a highland warrior like me, after four hundred years, should be able to keep conscious after a weak punch in the face. Now, I did this for two reasons: One - I thought I'd let him have a go first, but wasn't going to admit it, and two - by making yourself look weak through run-in's like that, it fools other immortals as to your actual power and strength."
Methos interrupted again in his smooth Welsh accent:
"Surrrre," he purred "Don't we all deliberately get knocked out by one pathetic punch that keeps us unconscious and vulnerable for hours, just on the off chance that it might trick someone. By the way, you didn't explain why you needed to trick Connor. I thought he was your Clansman? Why would you be fighting your friend, MacLeod?"
A smug look crossed Methos' face as he waited for a reply. Instead of getting one, he noticed a strange, though familiar change on MacLeod's face.
"Connor... Clansman... Friend....," Macleod mumbled in thought.
"Oh, you've got to be joking," grumbled Methos. 'Not again! No, hang on, it's a passive one this time. Phew!"
Looking back at MacLeod, he noticed he was mumbling something again.
"ahhhhh........
"those were the days......
"(sigh)........
"(giggle).......
"ahhhhhhhhhhh.........
After about ten minutes, the audience began to eye each other nervously, wondering if anything else was going to happen. Then slowly and uncertainly they began to leave the room. Duncan, meanwhile, was left standing on stage, deep in his flashback, silently giggling to himself with occasional 'eeek's' and screams breaking the silence.
Methos rose from a slouch in his seat and made his way up to the stage.
"Every time," he grumbled. "I can't leave him alone for two seconds. Do I get any appreciation for doing this? Noooo... I follow him around nearly everywhere he goes just in case he flashbacks at a rotten lettuce in the supermarket or something, and all he does is complain when I amuse myself, waiting for the inevitable to happen." He paused, contemplating his train of thought. "OK, I have to admit that at that age they tend to have a bit of trouble controlling their flashbacks, which can get very embarrassing, but still, what am I - his dad?"
Methos finally reached MacLeod up on stage, and in one swift movement, he chucked the huge dazed Highland warrior over his shoulder, which seemed like an impossible feat for his slim frame. Grumbling to himself, Methos made his way smoothly out of the auditorium, and back to MacLeod's dojo.
THE END.