Disclaimer:And...as I'm sure everyone knows, I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer or anything attatched. The only thing I really own so far is Roy...and even then I don't own half his roots so... what the hell.
Rating: PG13...MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR SENSTIVE READERS...(this is just my really trash sense of humour...read with an open mind! Prepare for mental scarring.
The Chronicles of Roy the Stripper and Rupert the Ripper
In a wine cellar situated in an abandoned corner of the Sunnydale sewers, commonly known to all those familiar with the demon dimensions as the Hellmouth, a tall butch man, who had the look of a retired fireman crossed with an insurance salesman sat hiccoughing ridiculously while his brother, a tall man with the look of an ex-librarian crossed with a “gentleman of leisure” lay (hardly surprisingly considering this guy’s history) unconscious on the floor. Their names, respectively, were Roy and Rupert Giles. Both, for reason that will be uncovered shortly, had odd, but coincidentally rhyming nicknames; the Stripper and the Ripper.
Now, Roy the Stripper, as you may already have guessed from the name, was a highly sought after stripper, commonly found at women’s 40th birthday parties, and ritual sacrifice celebrations, especially those among vengeance demons; they are known to have a fetish for nude human males. It so happened that he had been attending an open nudist festival at the Bronze, a popular nightclub at Sunnydale, when he had bumped into his brother. Of course, how could two brothers close as these not go and have a good old alcoholic drink together?
Rupert the Ripper had also had an interesting history. Named the Ripper after his rebellious teenage years when he had practised chaos magic, listened to Ozzie Osbourne and had his you-know-what pierced (I know-shocking isn’t it?!). Compared to his old lifestyle, he had changed considerably, hardly matching the Ripper’s reputation; being an ex-librarian did nothing for his street-cred. But none the less, Rupert had spent the last few years of his life acting, whether officially or unofficially, as the Slayer’s Watcher. Although, honestly, in this time, a lot of his hours had been spent unconscious (getting knocked out by demons, vegetables and minerals of many descriptions was a common occurrence for him). Now however, he had met up with his brother, and was ready for a night on the booze, followed, of course, by the sweet oblivion of drunken stupor.
And this brings us to our current position, both characters, well and truly pissed in a wine cellar…
To be continued...
Rupert awoke to the rather disturbing sound of his brother practising one of his dance/stripping routines. This happened to involve a karaoke rendition of I believe in a thing called love by the Darkness and him trying to remove his union jack g-string whilst rolling around on the floor with an air guitar. Hmmm… perhaps disturbing was an understatement.
Rupert observed him from his painful position on the floor; why he had not thought to bring a pillow was beyond him. His neck would be stiff all week now! Appearing to notice that his brother was no longer unconscious on the floor, just on the floor, Roy pulled his g-string up from around his ankles. How he had managed to get them down there, Rupert would never know, but that was a subject he was not particularly keen on further investigating.
“Well, well sleeping beauty! Your handsome prince has awoken you from your deep sleep! Had a feeling one of my stripping routines ‘d do the trick,” remarked Roy, not the slightest bit perturbed that his brother had just observed him (you must remember that he was a 45-year-old beer-belly and considerably hairy at that) rolling around naked on the floor. How women could find him sexy, Rupert failed to imagine.
“Yes, yes…” groaned Rupert as the usual hangover headache kicked in, “Put some clothes on for God’s sake! It’s mentally disturbing!”
“Hey, hey, no need to get grumpy… you never could hold your drink.”
“Well I don’t need you to tell me that!” snapped Rupert sulkily as he rose from the floor like a little old man deprived of his walking stick. Rubbing his temples, he observed their surroundings.
“Where are we anyway?” They were surrounded by empty bottles of alcohol, this was to be expected, but the place stank rather like a port-a-potty that had not been emptied for a few years. Suddenly the familiarity of the place dawned on him.
“We’re in the sewers?!?!”
“Erm…in a wine cellar in the sewers, to be correct,” was Roy’s sheepish come back.
“Oh that makes it so much better!” Exasperated, Rupert fumbled around for his brother’s clothes and threw them at his head.
Peeved that his brother had spoilt his fun, but not wanting to get into an argument, the shame-faced stripper proceeded to wriggle into his spandex leather trousers. This was not a simple task, and involved a lot of bending over and jumping around, exposing the large “sexy” tattooed in red just above his arse. Rupert was somewhat disturbed by this new addition to his brother’s attire, but he wasn’t about to mention it as this would probably end up triggering a “Well, you remember that prostitute fellow who pole danced at Dick and Fanny’s…” story. Most of his stories began with this guy recommending him a visit to one of his bizarre acquaintances.
“What time is it, anyway?” asked Rupert, wondering how long he had managed to remain unconscious. Roy reached for his watch which lay on the floor nearby.
“Urrr…6.00."
“Please tell me that’s in the morning,” groaned Giles.
“Nope, you were out way too long for that.”
“What the heck did you do for over twelve hours? Wait…don’t tell me! I do not want to know.”
When Roy had finally got his clothes on, they proceeded to make their way out of the sewer system. If anyone thought it odd that a guy in glasses followed by a weird, gay, biker dude emerged from a grate in Sunnydale high street…nobody commented.
To be continued…
“So…where shall we go now? You know I’d really love to meet that Slayer chick of yours… heard she’s a hottie!” suggested Roy with hopeful eagerness.
“Oh yes that’s a capital plan! I’m sure she’d be intrigued about meeting my joyful stripper brother who is most commonly known for appearing in the Full Monty,” was Rupert’s remark, laced with sarcasm.
“Well, why not? She’ll go for undead dudes, why not strippers?”
“You keep your hands to yourself! I’m beginning to wonder about getting you neutered.”
“NOOO!!!! Don’t take my manhood! Anything but my manhood!”
“Oh, shut up.” Rupert, getting more irritated by the second, sped up, and headed in the direction of his apartment. Roy, who, despite being used to energetic nude dance routines, had about as much energy as a dead tortoise, had difficulty keeping up, and was forced to move at a brisk jog. The sight was not pretty; think layers of flab flopping around under a skintight biker jacket. Not pleasant.
“So,” asked Roy between great gasps of breath, “where are we going?”
“My place, until I can think of what I’m going to do with you.”
“Oh, well I’m sorry I’m such a burden to you. I can always hook up with Halfrek and that lot, you know. Now they know how to have some fun, you know what I mean…” Roy raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh, I can imagine,” groaned Rupert.
Eventually they reached Rupert’s apartment. This was not before Roy had just about died from oxygen starvation. However, the moment he saw where he would apparently be taking up accommodation, he was surprised out of dying.
“Wow, Rupie! Your shack standards ’ve gone up considerably since I last came to your place. Where were you then? Oh yes, I remember, wasn’t it in a shed behind Ikea? Yeah! And that Norwegian dude kept trying to sell you those Swedish fruit pastilles that smelt of cannabis!”
“Yes well thank goodness things have changed because that man should have been shacked up in jail!”
They entered the apartment, Roy with a look of awestruck wonder and Rupert, looking, well…irritated to say the least. Roy proceeded to throw himself on the sofa with a loud thud that shook the place from floor to ceiling. Rupert rolled his eyes.
“Now I’m going for a shower. You stay here and, do something…just don’t tough any of the historic artefacts, or the talismans…in fact, just don’t touch anything.” Rupert glanced around furtively, wondering if it would perhaps be wiser to chain him to the bath. That had worked with Spike. Maybe not. Roy was considerably larger than Spike, and would possibly cause it to fall through the floor…especially if he tried to do one of his stripping routines. No. It would just have to be a very quick shower.
When Roy was sure that Rupert was well and truly out of eyeshot, he began examining his brother’s record collection. He was definitely getting out of practise with his routines. Pink Floyd…nah, Mozart…ugh, no, Anthony Stuart Head…never heard of him, Liza Minelli…what the?! Ahh! Perfect! Hot Chocolate with You Sexy Thing. That song never failed to get the women screaming! He’d had countless pairs of knickers thrown at him performing to this song.
“Okay, baby,” muttered Roy to the CD-player, “give me what you’ve got!”
The moment he pressed play, it was like the music had control of him and Roy was taken over with that familiar, but sudden urge to remove his clothing. Oh yeah! Caught up in the song, Roy the Stripper was in his element.
“Do you believe in miracles? Oh where you fro-o-om? You sexy thing!” sang Roy. Nothing could stop him now, twisting to the music; he was shedding spandex leather like toilet paper.
Suddenly he was aware of a cold draft. He stopped dancing as the song came to an end. Several things now caught his attention, his nudity, the fact that the door was open and the fact that a blonde girl in her early twenties, and a tall peroxide blonde male in a long leather jacket both stood in the doorway with their mouths open in shock.
To be continues…
“Bloody Hell!” came the disturbed response from the peroxide guy.
“Oh my God!” exclaimed the blonde girl.
“Did no one ever tell you to knock before entering?” asked Roy, slightly perturbed, but not embarrassed; he was used to being seen naked.
“Well, well, well,” said peroxide guy, “I always wondered about Giles. Guess I was right when I called him a nancy boy. Wondered why none of his relationships with women worked out…”
“Shut up, Spike,” said blonde girl, “Where’s Giles?”
“He’s just in the shower,” explained Roy, sounding extremely natural considering he was naked.
Just then, Rupert appeared from the hallway.
“Oh, good Lord!” he moaned as he discovered what was happening in his living room, “Roy, for God’s sake put some clothes on!”
“Had to say, Giles, wouldn’t’ve put you down as a puff, but now I come to think of it, I’m not surprised! Why didn’t you come out about it? Willow was fine…”
“Spike, I am not a “puff”, and I am certainly not into male strippers…”
“Hey!” interrupted Roy.
“Well, Giles, why do you have a male stripper in your front room?” The blonde girl was looking extremely disturbed now.
“Urrm, well, Buffy…th-this is err…Roy, my brother.” He looked at her ashamed.
“And, um, why does he not have clothes on?” Rupert was about to answer this, but Roy beat him to it.
“Why do you think love? I’m a stripper! Commonly known as Roy the stripper among demon and human worlds alike! And you must be Buffy the Vampire Slayer! Pleased to meet you!”
To be continued…
Buffy stood aghast for a few minutes before realising the truth of the situation. Giles had a scary stripper-brother who appeared to be completely at ease standing butt-naked in Giles front room. God, this was disturbing.
“Uh…hi?” she said, sounding more than a little confused. Spike was doing something close to giggling.
“What drama!” he said, “you guys should be on Coronation Street. You’d attract more viewers than Richard Hillman.” Of course, all but Buffy knew what he was on about.
“I’m actually quite flattered!” said Roy, “You know I’ve always though Richard Hillman and I were alike. The guy’s got a great body. He could make it big in the stripper world.”
“Can we please get off this disturbing line of conversation?” pleaded Rupert.
“Careful,” advised Roy, “he might get over excited and pass out again.”
“Excuse me?!” Rupert’s face began to turn a reddish hue.
“I’m just saying, mate. It’s not uncommon…”
“Oh give it a rest and put some clothes on, Roy,” snapped Rupert.
“Ok, guys!” Buffy interrupted, putting on her “in command, ignore me and I’ll stake you” voice, “I think Giles is right about Roy putting some clothes on. Spike, stop making sarcastic, useless comments. Giles, control your brother. We’re going back to the house.”
“Are you sure that’s wise?” asked Rupert.
“Hey! Can everyone stop treating me like a prison convict? Spike’s more dangerous than me!”
“Spike has a soul,” said Buffy passionately.
“So do I!” exclaimed Roy exasperated. Buffy chose to ignore him. Spike had a soul and that was very important, of course. Normal people didn’t have souls. Wait, no, that wasn’t right. Oh well, Spike had a soul.
To be continued…
When they finally arrived at the Summers’ house, both Buffy and Giles were severely pissed off with Roy and Spike, who appeared to be having a perfectly natural conversation about past experiences over strip poker.
Buffy, feeling the extreme urge to stake the nearest vampire (which happened to be Spike), but restraining herself only by the straw of a hat, was feeling more and more disturbed. Sure, she was used to seeing strange and disturbing things on the Hellmouth, but never had she come across a scarily natural middle-aged stripper guy who just happened to be her Watcher/ father figure’s (take note all gross Buffy/Giles shippers) brother. Could the day get any more disturbing? She was about to find out that it definitely could.
They arrived home to every scooby that wasn’t already among them sitting playing monopoly in the front room.
“Oh perfect.” Rupert was more than a little exasperated, and embarrassed that his brother’s identity was going to be discovered by all the scoobies. Why him? Why did his brother have to be a stripper?
They entered into the living, and on observing Roy, each bottom lip dropped to about ground level. Oh good Lord thought Rupert.
“Hi guys!” said Buffy, an edge of annoyance in her tone.
“Err…not meaning to be rude here, but, err, who the hell are you?” Xander questioned Roy, eyeing him uncertainly.
“Yes, and why are you wearing spandex?” added Anya in that matter-of-fact tone of hers. Willow and Tara appeared to be temporarily incapable of speech and proceeded to sit with expressions of shock written on their faces. Dawn followed suit, but couldn’t quite carry the look off without looking like a mentally unstable goldfish.
“Americans are so cute!” said Roy enthusiastically to Spike, who gave him a “you don’t know many Americans, do you?” look.
“Well, I guess I’ll just jump straight to it. I’m Roy Giles, making me, old Rupie here’s brother,” he shot an encouraging look at Rupert, who dropped his head into his hands in shame, “and as for the spandex question…well I’ve always loved the stuff, and being a professional stripper and all, it kind o’ goes with the profession…”
“Wait a minute!” interrupted Anya excitedly, “You’re, you’re Roy the Stripper! Oh my God! Hallie told me all about you! You’re like, famous in the vengeance world! Please remove your clothes now! I want to see one of your routines!”
To be continued…
“NOOOOO!!!!” was the simultaneous yell of desperation from just about every person in the room other than Anya and Roy.
“Oh…you know you want him to guys. It’s just this stupid human instinct that says, “I can’t have what I want”. Everyone always wants to watch a stripping routine. Anyway, seeing as Xander fails to understand that everyone wants a male stripper around fairly often, why don’t we all just sit back and let the room get steamy. I want to get turned on.” Everyone looked at Anya in mentally disturbed silence
“I’m fairly certain I don’t,” said Rupert, a little flustered at all this blatant sex talk. He removed his glasses and began cleaning them on his jumper.
“Oh like you don’t have orgasm friends,” snapped Anya.
“Well,” said Xander, sounding more than a little peeved off, “seeing as you seem to like this guy so much Anya, why don’t you just go and shack up with him.”
“Well, you can hardly be surprised Xander. I need commitment. We didn’t even have sex last night!” Xander’s ears turned a funny shade of red.
“Honey…remember what we said about private conversations…”
“Ok, guys!” came Buffy’s “in command, ignore me and I’ll stake you” voice, “Let’s just calm down here. It looks like Roy’s staying in Sunnydale for a while so you’d better get used to him being around. Roy, this is Anya, Xander, Willow, Tara, my sister Dawn…” she pointed to each one respectively.
“Howdy guys. Don’t worry. I’ll try and control myself seeing as you all seem to be so reserved about nudity around here.” Rupert looked at him, exasperated.
“Well you might have tried that around me and saved me years worth of mental scarring!”
********************
Eventually, when everyone had got past the disturbing fact of Roy’s stripperness, they began to realise the guy was actually quite nice, if not extremely disturbing. It was eventually agreed that Roy would stay at Rupert’s apartment, seeing as there was no space at the Summers’ house. Once this arrangement was made, they all decided to kick back, and go for a night at the Bronze, even Rupert and Spike (the supposedly reserved ones) went along.
To be continued…
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