FIC: The Late Shift

[wiccachica]

Grimaldi,



You mean your unconscious mind doesn't see a mall?? Gosh...maybe I'm the only one...

" I mock you with my Monkey Pants!" - OZ


" Nymph! (pause)Nymphette?"


"Nympho." -The Pirate Movie
-


" If you imps are lookin for a fight, then ya come to the Chapel Oblige-ya!!" - Legend

[LeatherQueen]

Ah, chica, Willow's mind is a scary thing to taste. And I LOVE seven-year-old snarky Cordelia.



Major full-body scritches for this. With chocolate!



*LQ wanders off trying to figure out how to incorporate chocolate into scritch-time...*

--------------------------------


"But when they're playing your song on the jukebox in Hell, you might as well dance." - K. Simpson


"Futile... like a FOX, baby!" - Tara in The Late Shift by wiccachica

[tkheaven]

and the subconscious wackiness continues...I Love It!

Tk's new and improved "GrrArgg"

-----------------------------
Tara was similarly riveted, her body on slow burn as Willow's lips parted and her mouth opened, the food slipping inside and being consumed. Never in her life had Tara ever wanted to be a chicken casserole so badly...Later that night..."It's good to be a chicken casserole," Tara murmured, before passing out. ~ Answering Darkness by Sassette

[zero]

Cool part.

I liked your definition of the purpose of the escalator. tres funny! (I'm one of those people who believe that an escalator is there to aid you on your upward or downward journey, NOT to replace physical exertion altogether!)

There are three kinds of people in this world: those who can count, and those who cant!

[wiccachica]

LeatherQueen... Chocolate and scritches? Well...that's an easy one! See...you take the chocolate...and you heat it up to like 99.7 degrees ...and then you...erm...you...pour...erm..okay...maybe this is NOT so easy to explain... I'll have to get back to you...with charts and pie graphs...heh...



Tkheaven... Wait till you see what's "in store" (and this pun will seem so funny in a few days...sigh)



Zero... Your theory on escalators is intriguing...though I don't think you and I frequent the same ones. I was PUTTERING down the one at the Sunset 5, wishing I could leap over the folks in front of me last week when this episode creeped into my mind...

" I mock you with my Monkey Pants!" - OZ


" Nymph! (pause)Nymphette?"


"Nympho." -The Pirate Movie
-


" If you imps are lookin for a fight, then ya come to the Chapel Oblige-ya!!" - Legend

[supermus]

Loved the update. Is this whole Mall-PTB thing a reference to the Angel ep Birthday? Something about the laws of Morpheus raised my eyebrow. And if so, will there be an appearance by Skip? Somehow I have a mental image of Willow smacking Little Cordy upside the head with that Nixon photo she has(it's not good for anything else).

--------

"You should never let the sun set on tomorrow before the sun rises today"


"I'm only a man in a silly red sheet"

[wiccachica]

Supermus... may I be boiled in a vat of oil for saying this...I have yet to see even ONE ANGEL eppie EVER. I have always wondered what it was like...now I'm intrigued...who is Skip? How can I get my troll to bastardize yet another show? (insert evil laughter here)



Speaking of bastardizing...







Chapter 192: Psychological Bric-a-brac



“ Where are we? What kind of store is this?” You feel inclined to ask these questions.



“ It’s called The Pent Up….” Cordy says. This is blatantly accompanied with a loud sigh to let you know that your questions are completely unwelcome…but to drive the point home…



”Look…Can we save the touchy-feely question and answer thing for the end…you know…when I’m NOT HERE…?” Cordy asks, leading you still farther down the aisle of the store.



“ I don’t know how you can expect me to get anything out of this if it is only going to last for a few minutes.”



Cordy stops in the center of the aisle and pulled a trinket off the shelf. You look closer to find that it is a tiny porcelain replica of a familiar vehicle….a van from your past… Cordy looks up at you to gauge your reaction. When she finds you staring blankly at it, she looks a bit disappointed…then put out…and eventually down-right pissed.



“ It’s OZ’s van….well…a pretty good likeness of it, anyhow…” She stresses…and then plops it down hard into your free hand. It’s no bigger than your palm.



“ Yeah…It’s SMALL…” You say, turning it this way and that.



Cordy…not getting the reaction she had hoped for…snatches it back and plunks it back down on the shelf…rattling a few tiny renditions of practice SAT scores and a strange little dog in a baker’s cap licking his little puppy chops.



“ This is Aisle One….Purely Historical baggage. That’s why everything here is so small…they are just waiting for the right image or word or phrase to give them room to puff up to full size when you least expect them…also…small saves room…keeps your big ol Willow brain from getting more cluttered than it already is.”



She points at your hand.



“ By the way…you can put that on the shelf here if you want. You...don’t need it anymore….”



You look at your Nixon photo…then set it on the shelf next to a black and white photo of Barbarella. Cordy crosses her arms.



“ I’m not saying ANYTHING……….okay………..I am saying something…what kind of Freudian FREAK FEST is your head, anyway?”



“ This is perfectly NORMAL” You argue, not quite sounding like the best defense for your own head.



“ Oh yeah? Explain this new little number.” She lifts a bangled Princess Leia outfit from the shelf and jangles it in front of your face. You snatch it out of her hand.



“ THAT is not for young eyes.” You say.



“THAT should really be in the fetish and Kink Aisle.” She says matter-of-factly.



“ It should not…” You spout….” (zahuh?….wait…rewind…) “….I have a KINK aisle?” You squeak.



“ You do lately.”



“ A whole Aisle?”



“ Well it does share some space with that Old Star Trek infatuation of yours and the weird Scott Baio and Charo THING.”



“ Oh.” You say, reddening. “ Can we …you know…stop by there…throw a few things in the cart…?”



“ There’s no time for that. We are here to visit Aisle Three.”



“ Aisle Three?”



“ Come on Rosenberg…this is YOUR subconscious…get with the program…” Cordy pulls out a large red book and leafs through it.



“ What’s that?” You ask…more than just a little curious.



“ Cliff’s Notes for your brain. Actually I personally think you need something akin to the OED for some of the freakshow crap tumbling around in here. It’s like a three-ring circus in the middle of a vast desert. With the little dogs in tutus and the hoops…and everything.”



She thumbs to a stop on a page.



“ Here it is. Aisle Three: Fears/Traumas/ and basic psychological scarring. My favorite spot.” As she says this you watch her rubbing her finger and thumb together violently.



“ What…are you doing?” You ask. She looks a little perturbed.



“ Trying to impress you with some transportata immediata…” She says…still trying.



“ Have you tried crossing your arms and blinking?”



“ Ha-Ha…I’m seven…snapping just isn’t a forte yet.”



“ Neither is time-management…can we just walk there?” You suggest.



“ Shut up…and who is the GUIDE around here…?” She snips…still trying the hand eye coordination thing by rubbing her fingers together and sticking the tip of her tongue out of the corner of her mouth.



“ I’m beginning to wond….” You start….but when have you gotten to finish a good sentence lately?



<>



TBC…

" I mock you with my Monkey Pants!" - OZ


" Nymph! (pause)Nymphette?"


"Nympho." -The Pirate Movie
-


" If you imps are lookin for a fight, then ya come to the Chapel Oblige-ya!!" - Legend

[mollyig]

This is Aisle One - Purely Historical baggage. And the kink aisle! Brilliant.



Aisle Three: Fears/Traumas/and basic psychological scarring. My favorite spot. Not surprising its Cordy's favourite aisle, as I'm sure she features heavily.

Adding up the total of a love that's true, multiply life by the power of two
Indigo Girls

[tkheaven]

She's got a whole kink aisle...

Oh I wanna grab a cart and go there, too..

Tk's new and improved "GrrArgg"

-----------------------------
Tara was similarly riveted, her body on slow burn as Willow's lips parted and her mouth opened, the food slipping inside and being consumed. Never in her life had Tara ever wanted to be a chicken casserole so badly...Later that night..."It's good to be a chicken casserole," Tara murmured, before passing out. ~ Answering Darkness by Sassette

[supermus]

In the Angel ep Birthday, Cordy gets knocked out into a kind of coma thing by some nasty visions sent by the Powers that Be. In her mind, she's in a Mall. This demon-guy Skip shows up and tells her that the PTB sent him to be her guide. He calls the mall a construct(a la the Matrix) and shows her some of her own historical baggage. That's all the relevant stuff I remember.

--------

"You should never let the sun set on tomorrow before the sun rises today"


"I'm only a man in a silly red sheet"

[TromDeGrey]

Chica, my dear, I am begging you, begging you to share the CRACK you and your troll are on with the governments of the world!!!!! It would be a much better place to live! :

"Live or die, but don't poison everything..." -Anne Sexton

[wiccachica]

Somehow I find myself partway between ashamed and proud that I have written something so closely resembling the Angel serieswithout ever having watched it.



Please let me know if I keep hitting the mark...or if I veer wildly and maniacally out into left field with the next one! (which knowing the troll will most likely happen)



-chica



P.S....Trom...the crack is mine and mine alone. I don't share the Troll Crack with anyone for fear it might get out into the mainstream and then everyone will be writing drivel like mine!

" I mock you with my Monkey Pants!" - OZ


" Nymph! (pause)Nymphette?"


"Nympho." -The Pirate Movie
-


" If you imps are lookin for a fight, then ya come to the Chapel Oblige-ya!!" - Legend

[LeatherQueen]

Another scrumptious update, chica! And bless you for mentioning the OED. You can never have enough OED mentions in a story, I feel.



And oooh.. graphs and pie charts... You say such sweet things.

--------------------------------


"But when they're playing your song on the jukebox in Hell, you might as well dance." - K. Simpson


"Futile... like a FOX, baby!" - Tara in The Late Shift by wiccachica

[NewRuthRising]

Having never been unconscious this may not count, but it is so hard to wake me up(I have slept through thunderstorms, tornados and being kicked repeatedly in the ribs)that it probably does, i see a mall sometimes, but most of the time I see a wide open desert with a red sky. Of course sometimes i see scenes from W/T fic *coghcoughblatentsuckingupcough*



Scritches to the troll and refills to Chica!



Ruth

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Sometimes I get the distinct impression that none of us are as cool as we think we are. Hm. - Tommo

[wiccachica]

We here at TrollCo Unlimited appreciate the blatant sucking up sandwiched between coughs and hereby offer THIS to add to your "How many weird twists does this story have" archive:



Chapter 194: Curious Yet Necessary Segue into the Chapter That Basically Explains the Purpose for this Odd Little Offshoot



" How many of you read last night's homework?"



Huh?Wassah??Wha??



You open your eyes and immediately grip the sides of your desk for bearing.



This...of course...conveniently knock a book from your desk to the floor. It heralds your penchant for inattentive slumber with a thunderous <>



And then comes the even more thunderous sound of everyone in the classroom shifting around in their desks to look back at you.



Seated in the desk directly in front of you, Cordy swings her little sneakered feet and shakes her head at you in dismay.



"You should bring your seat up to it's full upright position when landing, Rosenberg." She says without the slightest hint of sympathy.



You look around the room to find each desk filled with some version of the girl who had been a tormenting factor in your life since kindergarten.



Cordy from sixth grade...the one who used to openly mock the headgear you had to wear... Smirks from three seats ahead.



Cordy from Kindergarten...who ignited a legacy of abuse by lobbing the first-ever Red Crayon at your head before convincing the class that red hair wasn’t normal...it was weird...and WILLOW was a stupid name.



And other Cordys too numerous and tramatic to mention.



"Is this it? Is this the BIG BAD Psychological scarring you were telling me about...because if it is...well...it's a pretty feeble attempt. I have been over this YEARS ago.” You say with a tinge of triumph.



Tour Guide Cordy smiles. Too broadly to be innocent...too many teeth to be anything but wickedly manufactured.



" Oh...this is a little part I put together for kicks...no...THIS isn't anywhere near what I'm here for."



She reaches into a small backpack perched on the back of her desk chair. She pulls out a thin, flimsy book. It is worn with overuse...and the pages are a bit frayed where little fingers must have plucked and picked at the pages over numerous years. A thin layer of gray dust coats the outside.



You feel a lump of terror rise from the pit of your stomach to your throat. You try to talk around it...but it seems to want to choke off some of your air for you....to give you a little something more to worry about besides your recognition of the book she is putting down on your desk.



She smiles at you and you try to smile back...to show some semblance of fearlessness in front of this floppy little children's book you see before you.



She gives it a quasi-violent shake for good measure. It flops in front of you like a dying fish and you look up and past that damned book at the child leering behind it.



Pure evil washes up on the shores of Lake Cordelia.



"Well...? Aren't you going to take it?" She asks. You try not to cast even your peripheral vision to the images on the front of that book.



Despite your most fervent attempts to, you cannot help but to see the picture. The harder you try to ignore it...the more vividly it comes into view.



You feel your lower lip tremble. You blink back the sting of fear-induced tears that well in your eyes.



How in the world did she find this? What cubbyhole in hell did she have to search long and hard through to dig this little book up?



You finally look down. You read the title in your head. It sends shreds of greasy fear washing over you.



The Merry Adventures of Sergeant Frog



A smiling frog doffs his sergeant’s cap into the air. He seems to be laughing and having quite the merry time on the back of his steed...a large arm swallowing stallion who seems just as merry and ...well...to use the word in it's proper 50's vernacular...GAY...



Yes…they both look quite gay...



You feel your heart rate speed up to Ska tempo as you stare down at the book.



Here it is...The reason that you are a huge frog-fearing...horse-horrified mess...



Right here in front of you...



But it wasn't really the book that did it...is it? Nope...this book was associated with something else...something more...SINISTER...



" I know you are all excited about this afternoon...but I want you to have the next chapter of this book read by this time tomorrow, class." The teacher says to all of you.



What's going on this afternoon?



You wonder at this...somehow torn between the fear of failing ANY class due to shirkage of assignments...and the need to run very fast and very far from here...from this floppy little “I Can Read” book.



“ Now…remember…It starts at four P.M. I want you to make sure you use the boxes we made…to view the eclipse without looking directly into the sun. Remember…even when the moon is completely covering the sun and it seems like it’ll be all right to look…I want you to use your boxes… It can cause serious damage to your eyes…”



You stare at the front of the class…your heart clamoring.



Oh no….you had forgotten all about this…hadn’t you? You had locked this little piece of history away never to see the light of day again….no pun intended…no pun at all….



“ Shall we?” Cordy offers with a smirk.



You know where she’s taking you…you know where this is all leading….and you certainly don’t need to go there again…EVER…





“ No.” You say…almost plead… with the little girl…but she’s already got her hands up…



<>



(Damn it, she’s getting adept at that)



TBC…



More to come tomorrow AM...I have seen it in the stars...and therefore it must be so...

" I mock you with my Monkey Pants!" - OZ


" Nymph! (pause)Nymphette?"


"Nympho." -The Pirate Movie
-


" If you imps are lookin for a fight, then ya come to the Chapel Oblige-ya!!" - Legend

[LeatherQueen]

"Sergeant Frog"? Too amusing, my dear chica. So very beautimous.



Chocolate, mochas, and scritches all around!

--------------------------------


"But when they're playing your song on the jukebox in Hell, you might as well dance." - K. Simpson


"Futile... like a FOX, baby!" - Tara in The Late Shift by wiccachica

[mollyig]

Yikes lots of Cordy's. And this line What cubbyhole in hell did she have to search long and hard through to dig this little book up?



Where to next me wonders?

Adding up the total of a love that's true, multiply life by the power of two
Indigo Girls

[wiccachica]

LeatherQueen...Mochas and scritches...you truly know the way to a gal's heart!



Mollig...Did you think I was going to take you to THIS PLACE??? I mean...honestly...what kind of trauma could a kid who grew up on the Hellmouth have?



Read on!



Chapter 195: A Toadal Eclipse of the Heart



You stumble…and almost fall flat into the road in your hurry to get home.



You’re late, and if you don’t get home to where you left your eclipse box yesterday, you are going to miss the eclipse completely.



It’s already starting to get dark at an unusually early hour, signifying the last legs of the Moon’s passing over the Sun… and though your parents could clearly care less what time you get home, you pick up the pace and begin a much quicker shuffling run down Main Street.



You clutch your favorite book to your thin chest as you go. Keeping Sergeant Frog and his trusty steed warm, even as the winter evening temperature begins to drop steadily.



No cars make their way down the street…no people are walking…It frankly looks like one of those ghost towns from the movies…Everyone is probably already home…boxes to faces…watching the eclipse…



Watching the eclipse that you won’t be able to see if you don’t HURRY…



By the time you are nearly halfway home it is no longer darkening outside…but an eerie shade of gray that washes over everything. It paints the world in a silvery blue haze.



You keep moving…but chance a look up into the sky… The sun is gone…only a thin ring of light remains.



This time your shoe catches the curb and you fall for certain. You keel forward…stopping your fall with your hands…searing the skin there… scraping one knee.



You watch as Sergeant Frog skates across the cement away from you…and instead of worrying over your brazed hands…you scramble forward for your book.



You crawl-scrabble like a crab…all for…Your precious book.



Not pain…nor eclipse, nor looking the fool will stop you from retrieving that book.



A large black boot settles down on it just as you get your small fingers on the pages and try to pull it to you. It’s stuck under that heavy boot.



You crane your head up…and back to look into a familiar face.



But is does not instill you with relief… no…



In fact a thousand little Willow alarms are blaring in your head…because Michael Porter COULD NOT possibly be here standing on your book…



Michael Porter has been dead for two years.



Michael Porter…the heart throb of all the girls at Sunnydale High ( a school Willow would not attend for many years to come)…Is smiling down at you… looking exactly like he had the day he had gone missing. A little paler maybe…



His eyes were the same dulcet shade of brown they had been in all of his pictures…



But there is something behind them that makes you think the word OLD….



OLD and HUNGRY…



“ You like frogs?” He asks you.



You nod.



“ You like frogs that ride on horses?” He crouches down to your level and retrieves the book.



You nod again. A squirmy feeling has started in your belly… Your legs seem like noodles…noodles stapled to the ground.



He holds the book out to you…still out of snatching range.



“ Take it.” He croons…and you can tell he is coiling within his skin….behind those eyes…like a large snake…preparing for something… something AWFUL…



Don’t take that book, Willow…no matter how much you love it….Don’t do it…



But your fingers do not obey…they want what they want…and right now… they want your book.



They reach slowly…gingerly outward…



“ That’s it…” He croons…a smile stretching over his skull as though being pulled cleverly back and up on master strings…



You know you will have to shuffle a little closer to grasp the book. You pause to think about the repercussions of such a bold move.



“ You like stories…?” He offers…seeing your hesitation…and trying to relax you with small talk. “My favorite is the one with the little girl in the forest…”



He gives the book a little shake…tantalizing you.



“ The one with the wolf.” He says…with that puppet smile again and then glances up quickly at the sky…as though something was telling him time was running out. “ Take it.” He says a little quicker now when he looks back down and at you…losing some of the charm most of the smile…and all of the patience.



He looks ready to bolt… with your book in tow. “Hurry.” He says.



You inch closer…and strain the tips of your fingers to take it…while staying basically out of grabbing range.



You sorely misjudge the length of his own reach.



Before you can pull your hand back with the book, you feel his icy fingers snake around your wrist and tighten until you squeal with pain.



He gives you a vicious shake…stirring more squeals from you as he stands up. He Frisbee tosses your book to the ground.



“ You won’t be needing THAT.” He says…dragging you towards a sewer grate.



Welp…that’s it Little Willow…the end…the part of the Fairy Tale where the Big Bad Wolf swallows you whole…and there is no woodsman to save you…



“ Honestly…you have the world at your fingertips for fifteen whole minutes, Michael, and you snatch a thin little wisp of a thing.” A woman’s voice purrs from off to the left.



Both victim and predator turn to the source of the voice. You feel his grip on your arm tighten until the bones grind together painfully.



“ Can I help it if I’m a Veal Man, Darla?” He snarls…putting himself between you and the woman who casually strides up.



“ You had your pick…and you take the one of the very few you were strictly told you CAN’T have, Michael. Are you arrogant…or just as stupid as you look?” She asks…putting herself right up in his face for good measure.



You feel his grip on you loosening slightly.



“ Plans have been made for this one… You KNOW that…You know it…and you still creep right out here and do exactly what I told you not to.” She says through clenched teeth.



You feel his grip start to tremble away from your arm…



“ I’m sorry…” He offers.



“ Oh… I KNOW you are. But no where NEAR as sorry as I’m going to make you.”



She looks down…directly at you…Her smile is thinner and more sinister than Michael’s could ever hope to be. Her serene features melt into something that makes you want to close your eyes…



Of course you can’t do that…not that it would help at this point…Those ridges…those eyes…those teeth were engrained upon your mind’s eye forever.



“ Run, Kid.” She commands…even as she brings up her own boot and crashes it down on Michael’s knee. “ Little girls should never see such catastrophic violence… until they are old enough to inflict it themselves.”



Michael lets go of you with a shove. He grabs for his injured knee.



She takes this opportunity to work on his other knee with the same kind of flourish.



She is like an artist…a perfectionist…planting her boots in just the right spots to inflict the perfect calculated pain.



He goes down heavily with squeals equivalent to your own just moments before…



You can’t help but watch in horror as she winks at you…then works for a few more moments…and then leaves Michael rolling from side to side on the cement.



“ Enjoy the rest of your DAY, Veal Man….” She says, and then walks over to the sewer grate, and gracefully disappears into it.



Her timing is impeccable.



Just as the first rays of the sun peek from behind their moon curtain, Michael attempts to drag himself towards the sewer opening…



He only makes it to the curb.



His hand slips on a flimsy children’s book that just so happens to be laying on the walk…and he goes down again heavily… losing time.



And then the sun, which also conspires against him, rejoins the afternoon sky.



“ Darla! Don’t leave me out here! Darla!” He shouts…



You watch as the clothes on his back begin to smolder…



You watch as he tries to make it to his feet only to fall again.



You watch as Michael bursts into a cloud of ashy dust…leaving a film on the ground…on your shoes…on your book…on everything…



You stare at the book as it rustles in the wind…the dust clinging to it…you feel your stomach turn…



Just the sight of it makes you realize how stupid you had been…how close to being just another Sunnydale child on the milk cartons….



You do not pick up the book.



No…



Sergeant Frog and his steed are no longer inviting you to join them in an adventurous romp…



They are laughing at you. At the little red-haired girl who almost got herself killed…



Hats off to the little idiot…!!! Whoopee!!! Yahoo!!!



You run. You run all the way home…



Careful to avoid every single sewer grate the whole way…



Already your child’s mind is finding ways to forget this occurrence…to shove it into the recesses of your mind…



But as you know… nothing in Sunnydale ever stays buried forever….



TBC…





I predict more Late Shift tomorrow...The Magic 8-Ball wills it so.

" I mock you with my Monkey Pants!" - OZ


" Nymph! (pause)Nymphette?"


"Nympho." -The Pirate Movie
-


" If you imps are lookin for a fight, then ya come to the Chapel Oblige-ya!!" - Legend

Edited by: wiccachica  at: 9/2/02 8:42:10 am

[LeatherQueen]

*gasp* chica!! Oh you wonderful sneak, you... such a history you love to give our beloved girls. God, I love your twistiness!

--------------------------------


"But when they're playing your song on the jukebox in Hell, you might as well dance." - K. Simpson


"Futile... like a FOX, baby!" - Tara in The Late Shift by wiccachica

[mollyig]

Aw the poor little mite. That was creepy.

Adding up the total of a love that's true, multiply life by the power of two
Indigo Girls

[tkheaven]

oh mY!! WiccaChicca...what can i say...I love the twisted tales you tell...umm, ok...lets' try that again...GREAT UPDATE! lol...please more!!

Tk's new and improved "GrrArgg"

-----------------------------
Tara was similarly riveted, her body on slow burn as Willow's lips parted and her mouth opened, the food slipping inside and being consumed. Never in her life had Tara ever wanted to be a chicken casserole so badly...Later that night..."It's good to be a chicken casserole," Tara murmured, before passing out. ~ Answering Darkness by Sassette

[NewRuthRising]

Okay, that does it. I am officially slayed and in fic heaven, and as my idea of heaven is centered around sharing, have another fawning and a raise to all those wonderful people at TrollCo courtesy of St. Peters' assistant. However, to Chica goes (drumroll please) a lifetimes' supply of espresso and a permanent backrub. Have fun.



Ruth

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Sometimes I get the distinct impression that none of us are as cool as we think we are. Hm. - Tommo

[Populnaeus]

Holy Crap.

Ms. Ruth, I was so not expecting that. You have seriously creeped me out. I can so picture a little skinny Willow, standing on the sidewalk, wearing a Geranimal jumper, staring up at a guy she knows is dead. Huh, I always wondered how the Scoobies managed to survive pre-Buffy. Why haven't they ever done anything like this on the show? My God. Ya know, Ruth, I used to be a card carrying barista, I could worshipfully bring you some specialty caffine beverages. Geez, how can I go to bed now? I'm all awigged. Meep. Laney





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You can't throw salt on a trickster God!

[wiccachica]

Yeah... I just thought that would be a little break from the norm...



Would ya'll care for more scary or more...err...(what do I call it?) Woncubine Follies...???



I could go either way this weekend.



-chica



(psst...by the way....I'm not a Ruth...though I think Ruth is a gorgeous name...I'm a Nichole...you know...the name of the villan girl in every soap opera...But I always wanted to be a Ruth....so I guess if you wanted to call me Ruth...you would have to ask the real Ruths in here if I could join the Ruth Club and if I get to carry a card with the honors....hmm....food for thought)



Free espressos for everyone! (wink!)

" I mock you with my Monkey Pants!" - OZ


" Nymph! (pause)Nymphette?"


"Nympho." -The Pirate Movie
-


" If you imps are lookin for a fight, then ya come to the Chapel Oblige-ya!!" - Legend

[Rane018]

niki, again i say you are crazy, extremely far from the norm and much loved by us! i look forward to reading your updates, always! hugs

[mollyig]

Would ya'll care for more scary or more...err...(what do I call it?) Woncubine Follies...???



I'll take whatever you give us - gratefully, happily, bouncily (is that a word?)



Whatever happens next I know it will be twisty, weirdy, wacky - and that's why I love The Late Shift!

Adding up the total of a love that's true, multiply life by the power of two
Indigo Girls

[supermus]

I'm a little confused. We took a detour from them in the time circles to go to the perfect date night. Then, on said perfect date night, Willow wound up unconcious, and we went to the mall. Then, from the mall, we went to the Seargent Frog incident. Am I the only one who needs a map or something? Maybe another song?

P.S. Does this remind anyone else of the time when were in Sunnyhell in some shack and they thought it was an appropriate place for story time?

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"He's doing something to his ass. He's not *kicking* his ass, but he's definititely doing *somethng* to his ass."

[Populnaeus]

WiccaChicca, I'm really sorry I called you by the wrong name. I'm a goofy goober head and should have paid more attention before I posted. My only excuse is that I was wrapped up in the story and that still isn't a good one. So, I'll go back to just reading and enjoying the stories. Please excuse me and accept some chocolate covered espresso beans as an apology. Laney.

[wiccachica]

Laney...There is certainly NO need for apologies. And even LESS need than that to refer to yourself as a goofy goober head. I get called by the wrong name all of the time...and I am rather fond of the name Ruth...so no harm done.



Now...as for the story...sorry I'm so late at giving you the Shift Woncubines of my heart, but I had a power outage in my neighborhood this weekend and it wonked out my puter something awful.



It is all in the works today....may the shift be with you....always...okay...maybe tomorrow....



(erp! I just showed my sublime geekiness just now...retract...rewind....take it back...ignore...I'm cool....verrrry cool...suave...charming...)



-chica

" I mock you with my Monkey Pants!" - OZ


" Nymph! (pause)Nymphette?"


"Nympho." -The Pirate Movie
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" If you imps are lookin for a fight, then ya come to the Chapel Oblige-ya!!" - Legend

[willowsgrrl]

wow i just got done reading what is up so far and i have to say i love it. and cant wait for more.





christina