"Denial, Part 1"
Act One
EXT. THE NEW KITTEN BOARD – NIGHT
Heavy fingertaps ring out across several keyboards. Then we see a PANICKED KITTEN booking towards the spoiler thread. Giving chase are Julia, Xita, and Garfield.
Xita posts first, starting to head off the PANICKED KITTEN, but she is forced to wait for her two companions to catch up. Already, the PANICKED KITTEN has flitted off out of sight towards the Speculation Thread.
XITA
Come on! I’m never gonna keep any of them
untainted with you whores holding me back!
JULIA
(rubbing at her aching wrists, she types hesitantly)
I thought… the newbies never made it any farther
than lurking… in the Naked Willow and Tara Sex thread…
XITA
No, that’s Dutch miniony doctors.
Impatient for Garfield to join them in the thread, XITA sends him an angry smiley face via IM.
GARFIELD
Yes, yes, coming. I just need to… um…
polish my big, red… font … for a minute.
XITA
(to Julia, re: fleeing Kitten)
It was that fic you sent her made her whore out.
JULIA
It’s W/T naughty spell smutfic. It was supposed
to distract her but it kinda just made her… frisky.
It’s not supposed to mix with anything disturbing – do you
think she might be subscribed to that new Xander/Dawn fic list?
XITA
(“Ew”)
Yeah. That must be it.
By the way, you’re a whore.
GARFIELD
(riffing)
Good God. What if she attempts
to read Kerri/Sandy fic.
XITA
(also amused)
We could all be –
RUTH
Guys! Heads up!
Her words appear in a simultaneously on all three of their screens in a new IMVironment featuring various vixen-ish poses of W/T. They all perk up instantly as we cut to:
CRANE ARM UP TO REVEAL
RUTH, standing atop the Pens board, surveying the landscape like a general surveying a field of battle. From her vantage point she can see the PANICKED KITTEN, Garfield, Xita, and Julia.
Ruth (cont’d)
The Kitten’s circling back towards you.
Six o’clock. Try to drive her towards
the “Smut!” thread, it’s just below you guys.
GARFIELD
(perks)
Smut?
JULIA
(appreciatively, distracted)
Is that the one with the voyeuristic
masturbation and the cage?
The Kitten bursts back into the Spoiler thread. She stops, seeing them – turns to run again but the Speculation thread looms in front of her, growing at a rate startling to behold. She pauses for a moment, deciding which way to go.
RUTH
Down! Make her go down!
Xita tries to respond, but is overcome with pervie giggles. She and Julia start to teasingly hum a few bars of “Downtown.” Garfield reacts just in time, borrowing concrete’s brand new avatar, featuring Willow copping a Tara-shaped feel in Hell’s Bells, for a moment and flings it down towards the “Smut!” thread, causing the Kitten to turn sharply towards it, running full speed.
ON SPEEDING KITTEN
Who discovers that she’s run into a sticky-fingered, dampness inducing TRAP. A finely woven web of smut designed to keep antsy Kittens quietly, happily thrilling in the bliss of naked Willow and Tara. Tainted by what she has beheld in the spoiler thread, she reacts anxiously, confused.
Then a pair of peasant blouse-clad SASSY EGGS appears directly in her field of vision. The Kitten’s eyes glaze over in pleasure as she sinks to her knees.
ON RUTH
Looking pleased. Strike.
ON DELIRIOUS KITTEN
As two sandaled feet and long, diaphanous skirt-clad legs stand over the dazed Kitty.
REVEAL – TARA, looking very vixenish and very much alive. She glances first down at her own cleavage, and then at the affect it seems to be having on the girl before her, sizing up the whimpering, slavering ball of Kittenish glee.
TARA
(nodding decisively)
Rounds. Definitely rounds. A perfectly legitimate preference.
Not that funny shapes aren’t um… funnily shaped.
The Kitten starts to bolt again, unable- even faced with evidence that Tara is indeed still in the land of the living- to bring herself to believe it.
Xita, Julia and Garfield arrive just in time to throw themselves into the fray, but the Kitten is crazed with grief and unbelievably strong. She easily throws off Garfield and Julia, the latter of whom continues to type frantically, trying to come up with enough smutty sentences to catch the Kitten’s attention.
ANOTHER ANGLE – BRIAN & LEN
Hear the commotion.
BRIAN
Sounds like the other units
are smutwhile engaged…
They start to run towards the noise. Then Brian gets the new IMVironment box on his screen-
RUTH
Brian, Len – stop!
He and Len stop alright. And Brian looks like he’s going to have a heart attack as he stares at Tara’s bedroom eyes from the musical love scene. He turns on voice chat in the IM and hisses in a HUSHED tone-
BRIAN
Super Sapphic Salaciousness, Ruth, you’ve
GOT to quit doing that!
RUTH
I told you I was going to get the lay
of the um… naked Wiccans. Gotta
get my inspiration somewhe-
BRIAN
Looks more to me like you’ve been getting the lay
of your “spelly” pic files, you two-bit, levitating wanker.
LEN
Whoa boy. Cage the Canadian rage.
(to Ruth)
It is a bit distracting. Perhaps if you-
RUTH
(interrupting, impatient)
You guys-
BRIAN
(calmer now, but glassy-eyed and gazing at the pics)
I know, I know. I don’t have to look when presented
with Willow/Tara goodness, but fucking Christ, LOOK
at them together. Bestill my big pineapple.
RUTH
Brian! There’s ANOTHER one. Just walked into the spoiler thread.
You can get the jump on her if you hurry.
WITH RUTH
From her vantage point we see that there is indeed a newb Kitten creeping for the first time into the spoiler thread. She scrolls idly, scanning the posts, seeming almost afraid to read them in their entirety.
ON BRIAN AND LEN
BRIAN
Oh. Why didn’t you just say so?
Off Ruth, who looks bitter.
BACK ON XITA, TARA, GARFIELD AND JULIA
Who are still grappling with the first PANICKED KITTEN. Julia is just finishing a smutty sentence and about to fling it in the Kitten’s direction when the distraught Kitty HURLS TARA over her head towards the prone smutstress. Julia doesn’t see Tara coming, but catches Ruth’s warning just in time-
RUTH
Julia! DOWN!
Julia ducks and Tara goes SAILING over her head, landing a few feet away.
JULIA
(to Ruth, angry)
You fucking bint! I could have HAD her! On TOP of me!
(to herself, nearly sobbing, disconsolate)
So close. So. Fucking. Close. Oh, the PAIN. The fucking LOSS!
Ignoring this outburst, Garfield moves to strike the Kitten with his BIG RED FONT, but the Kitten counters with a stream of WHITE HOT BITTERNESS and drives Garfield back with it – pushing him up against the board and using the bitterness to CHOKE the life out of GARFIELD.
Xita tackles the Kitten and tries to pull her off Garfield. But it’s impossible. The Kitten flings the Moderator off herself. Xita lands on her feet – and stops fighting. Just watches as the Kitten continues to choke Garfield with bitterness.
GARFIELD
(breathless)
X-Xita!
RUTH
(to Xita)
You trollop. What are you doing?! Help him!
Xita still just watches coolly.
XITA
I did.
But now we see that the Kitten’s bitterness is starting to fade, her grasp of Garfield faltering as well. Suddenly, the Kitty releases Garfield and bounds off merrily into the daily thread, humming a jaunty tune. To the astonishment of our gang, she proceeds to post a bunch of giddy silliness, showing off her brand new EXTRA FLAMEY (not to mention smoochy) animated avatar and her personalized “Breast Gal” posting status. Garfield turns to Xita, glaring.
GARFIELD
You might have given me some sign while
she was bitternessing me to death.
XITA
Aw. Poor Garfield. Did your entire posting history
pass before your eyes? “Big red font, big red
font, almost had me some cybersmoochies, big red font…”
Xita is cut off as Ruth begins-
RUTH
Whores! Help Brian and Len!
They’re in the speculation thread.
ON BRIAN AND LEN
Who are struggling to keep a NEWB KITTEN from reading the latest theories on where the show is going and what Joss has been smoking. Brian’s Canadian rage has faltered, and Len is trying in vain to rationalize with the Kitty. As Xita, Garfield, Julia and Tara arrive, the Kitty darts past Len and begins to quickly scan down the thread.
TARA
I got this one!
Tara leaps forward, producing a SPATULA seemingly from nowhere. Brandishing it before her like a fly swatter, she bops the Kitty on the head with it.
TARA
(to the stunned Kitten)
That’ll put a stinkbug in your Taglarin reality check, Marv Albert!
A beat as everybody takes this in. Huh? Hardly even having heard her words, too stunned by her presence to do more than go bug-eyed in awed surprise, the Newb Kitten simply faints dead away. Ruth jumps down from her observey perch, joins them. Xita cocks her head at Tara, but merely smiles and nods – looks at Ruth skeptically.
XITA
Okay, that was pretty obscure even for Tara humor. And who the fuck is Marv Albert?
JULIA
(more to herself than anyone else)
Yeah. I need to start writing better jokes.
RUTH
I don’t know. I was trying to come up with some
Tara-ism brand funny for her program script, you know,
and I kind of ended up with cheeky, Wiccan
wackiness on parade. On crack.
The whole gang starts to move out of the graveyard…
TARABOT
(brightly)
I think it’s funny.
RUTH
It’s a problem, I know. I’ll work on it.
GARFIELD
We can’t just have her messing up in front
of the wrong person – or in the wrong thread.
We need the Kittens, down the very last
slutalicious spoiler whore, to believe
that Tara is alive and well.
RUTH
And I will therefore get on it. The um, problem, of course,
not the um. Bot. Tara-shaped. Breasts.
(she shakes herself, trying to recover)
What was I saying? Oh. Right. Hey, at least
I got her off reciting a la play-acting Pantyfic.
TARABOT
Ooh! Can I read more about Cave Wiccas?
(playing it up)
Girl smell nice.
BRIAN
Yeah. We won’t talk about who turned her on to Panty fic, will we, JULIA?
He glares at the smutstress, smoke steaming from his nostrils as the fires of his unfathomable Canadian rage are stoked. Stroked. Trevor. Hehe. *cough* Ahem. Julia ducks her shoulders guiltily, giving her fierce companion an apologetic, big, cheesy grin.
XITA
Oh, that was YOU? Fucking whore.
BRIAN
Yeah! Fucking whore!
JULIA
Hey, I need SOMEONE to read it to me.
I’m dating someone who doesn’t even watch the show.
GARFIELD
(whispering behind his hand, just to Julia)
Hey, next time you get her to do that, can I listen in, too?
She winks at him saucily, and they both move to hurry along after the others who are already headed to Kitty Chat to retire for the evening. Behind them, Tarabot looks at the spatula still in her hand, walks to where the NEWB KITTEN still lies unconscious on the ground.
TARABOT
(still playing, her eyes dancing mischievously)
Girl smell nice.
She hits the Kitten over the head with her spatula, throws her over one shoulder, and follows the chat whores home.
Act One
INT. THE NEW KITTEN BOARD - THE DAILY THREAD – EARLY MORNING
CLOSE ON RUTH
Who looks irritated as she sits writing, trying to find just the right word.
RUTH
What’s another word for armpit? I don’t know
about you, whore, but I really think they’re
under-rated in terms of horniness.
She looks up and we see JULIA sitting across from her, busily typing away. We see that the Daily thread has been transformed- it’s clearly now the domain of our two smutstresses. They’ve been posting back and forth all night long, penning a round robin lesbo smutfest of smoochy W/T goodness.
RUTH
It’s really those lesser-known erogenous zones that
make writing innovative smut so challenging.
JULIA
Um. Underarm?
(wrinkles her nose)
Armpit. Underarm. I dunno. Doesn’t quite do it for me.
Why don’t you go post and ask the Kittens for um…
otherobscure erogenous zone suggestions?
Ruth wanders over the Spoiler Free Support Thread, which this morning is steadily reigning the top spot on the Kitten board and pokes her head in to see if anyone’s really about.
RUTH
Hey! Anyone alive in here?
No one responds. Ruth starts for the Pens board. Julia follows.
JULIA
You alright?
RUTH
Besides bitterness about today and a
general feeling of wishing I were watching the tunnel
scenes from Tabula Rasa again and again and again…
Fabulous.
JULIA
Naked Willow and Tara will make all things better.
RUTH
Ooh. Willowhands could go in naughty places…
The two exchange saucy winks and lustful anticipatory expressions before Ruth moves into the SMUT! thread.
RUTH
There you are.
A TRAUMATIZED KITTEN is huddled over the latest smutalicious offering, clinging to it like a drowning woman to a piece of driftwood.
RUTH
Hey you. Today’s the big day, huh?
(off the Kitten’s absent nod)
Kinda day that makes you want to run your tongue up
along the underside of someone’s arm, eh?
The Kitten shoots her a perplexed expression.
TRAUMATIZED KITTEN
Huh?
INT. THE KITTEN BOARD - THE DAILY THREAD
CLOSE ON TARABOT
Who is seated, tapping gingerly at her keyboard across the table from Julia, where Ruth sat before. Julia is also back at work, busily typing away. Ruth enters. Moves to Tarabot.
RUTH
(to Tarabot)
Morning. I was thinking we could go over your
fic again. You know, the um… prose.
JULIA
(to Ruth)
Again? You’ve done all you can,
ya bint. She’s either ready to post
this thing or she’s not-
Now the Traumatized Kitten enters the thread, sounding chipper enough but looking a little crazed around the eyes. She skims the latest smut fic additions, seeming unable to decide which one to peruse. Julia pauses in her work, moves to her.
JULIA (cont’d)
Here’s your smoochies fic fix, and naked Willow and
Tara are on the way. Downtown action or Willowhand?
TRAUMATIZED KITTEN
(perking up a little)
Willowhand is fine.
(then, perusing the file Tara is working on)
What’s up with the Panty?
JULIA
(glances down at the silky fabric peeking out from her own back pocket)
Oh, some Kitty flung them at me
in the Vixens thread. But-
TRAUMATIZED KITTEN
No, I mean, why is Tarabot writing fic that’s Pantyish?
(she reads aloud over the bot’s shoulder)
“Willow stiffened mid-spell, arching her back as Tara levitated her again
and again…” What’s that all about?
JULIA
Oh! Oops.
(grimaces)
She wanted to help. You know, our little project.
And she’s been watching a lot of season four and
five reruns, trying to bone up on her characterization.
Robot. You know. Been taking the metaphors
for horniness a little too literally.
Pointedly emphasizing “metaphors,” Julia moves to Tarabot’s side, whispering in her ear and moving to replace the bot’s fingers on the keyboard with her own, giving her some alternate suggestions for wording.
Off Tarabot’s dropped jaw as she listens and reads. On Brian as he enters, his html toolbox in hand. His cheerfulness is slightly forced, the fires of his implacable Canadian rage seething below.
BRIAN
(important voice)
Thread o’ illicit lesbo lovin’, lookout. I’m a moderator
and you will respect MY AUTHORITAH.
(off the Traumatized Kitten’s worried expression)
Oh, don’t worry. I’m not here to shut down the
impromptu smutfest, merely to enjoy it myself.
(catches sight of Tara printing out copies of her fic)
New fic! Excellent. Canadian people love… um…
(perusing it)
Panty fic.
RUTH
Yes, they seem to write their fair share of it, too.
Help yourself. Really.
(then)
So then, what brings you so early,
your former minion-y-ness?
BRIAN
I got that new posting status you wanted worked up.
For Tarabot’s debut.
Julia drops several printed pages into the awaiting hands of the Traumatized Kitten.
JULIA
You got downtown go-age anyway. Sorry.
The Kitten is about to respond, but everyone’s attention is drawn to the Speculation Thread as six new pages suddenly appear all at once. Everyone sighs glumly, expecting yet more of the usual page long rants- doom and gloom and “time to firebomb Buffy HQ in Santa Monica.” Tarabot, ever helpful, jumps up.
TARABOT
I got this one-
Ruth and Julia both jump after her.
RUTH & JULIA
No!
TRAUMATIZED KITTEN
It could be Dazey. Between Bob’s location
reports about Big Bad Black Magic Willow and the
“Tara’s dead” line, and the lack of new Tara info
post-wham, bam, slap a tag on my toe, ma’am,
I swear, I think she’s about to snap.
TARABOT
I’ll just say hello. She thinks my jokes are funny.
Tarabot moves to post in the thread but Ruth stops her just as an IM box pops up on the screen. Ruth answers it without even looking first to see who it is. No one else is paying attention because they’re too busy poring over the endless piles of smut, but being the mouthy bint we all know and love her to be, Ruth speaks her part of the conversation out loud to herself.
RUTH
What’d’yawant then?
(notices)
Oh, hey, Len. Really?
That’s fucking awesome!
Ruth turns to Brian.
RUTH (cont’d)
Len found that thing. For tonight.
BRIAN
He did? Thank fucking Christ.
RUTH
The Lord sure gets around up there in Canada, doesn’t he?
(then, parroting back for Len)
And Trevor is Frederick’s sweet apple strudel stick.
TREVOR
(smug)
I get around, too.
Ruth finishes with Len in the background, mumbling quietly to herself while-
TRAUMATIZED KITTEN
What’s tonight?
JULIA
Just Kitty chat. Xita’ll be here with you.
Ruth turns to Tarabot, perusing her new Panty-ridden fic.
RUTH
Maybe you should just let us handle Willow’s orgasms-
I mean, um, you know, the you and Willow smut in general. Okay?
TARA
Is my sentence structure not correct?
JULIA
It’s perfect. It’s just, we can’t take the chance
that the Kittens might get distracted, even for a
moment, from all the smut we’re feeding them and
realize or remember that something’s wrong.
BRIAN
If the unspoiled found out that the real Tara was gone,
they would most likely tear this place apart.
TRAUMATIZED KITTEN
And I want to stay here. Forever. With you and Willow.
Naked. And in denial. Understand?
TARABOT
I do. I want you to stay also.
You’re a Kitty!
Tarabot gives the Kitten a heartfelt hug. The Kitten accepts it, awkwardly, clearly struggling with the renewed knowledge that this isn’t really Tara, but nonetheless, grateful… The others watch jealously. Still, they know it’s a poor substitute for the real thing. Brian breaks the moment, addresses the Tarabot.
BRIAN
So excellent. We’re agreed. Sit your battery-operated
self down so we can get crackin’. I mean working. Um… on
those… grammar skills.
RUTH
Actually, we’ve got bigger worries than her
propensity for writing Pantyfic today.
JULIA
Way bigger.
BRIAN
I guess. Depends on how highly you prize adequately
executed obscure Wiccan humor.
RUTH
I’m serious, Brian. Tarabot is about to face
her most daunting challenge ever.
EXT. THE KITTEN BOARD – NEW ‘HALLOWED HALLS OF BITTERNESS’ FORUM
CLOSE ON NEW SPECIALIZED BANNER O’ KITTENISH BITTERNESS AT TOP OF SCREEN
Featuring cartoonish drawings of a snarling wildcat’s face, two angry looking girl stick figures, and a open cupboard, empty and bare but for cobwebs. Pan down to find Tarabot and the Traumatized Kitten wandering amongst a bunch of disgruntled, edgy Kittens. Everyone is checking out the new forum, most of them gathered now in the ‘Creative Uses for Bitterness’ thread in which are exhibited many examples of fic and fan art and the like, mostly dealing with the W/T breakup. Tarabot is taking all this in with good-natured interest, while the Traumatized Kitten looks extremely nervous.
TRAUMATIZED KITTEN
Okay. We’ll make a quick lap so people
can see you’re here, then we’ll-
Tarabot stops at a “New Video” thread. The Kitten who started the thread, RALLY, stands nearby, cooly observing their interest.
TARABOT
What is this?
TRAUMATIZED KITTEN
It’s a fan-made music video.
Using clips from the show and stuff.
See?
They quickly download it and begin to watch. The video begins with lovey-dovey scenes of Willow and Tara together; tender glances in early season four, the lingering handhold as they say goodbye in “Superstar,” Tara’s head laying on Willow’s shoulder as they slow dance in “Family.” It is set to the tentative opening bars of Michelle Branch’s “Goodbye to You,” images cleverly cut into one another to highlight the sweet, tender moments between the two girls. As we get to the chorus of the song we suddenly shift to images of Snarky Willow, Hurt and Angry Tara, Willow sitting crying on the floor, and Tara tearfully packing her things and walking from the Summers’ house. In the second verse we see that the artist has manipulated footage from the show and the musical premiere to make it look as though Vengeful, “I. Owe. You. Pain,” Black Magicky Willow from “Tough Love” is sending bolts of lightning streaking towards Joss Whedon, burning him to a cindery crisp. Next come yet more images of Willow and Tara as a happy couple, interspersed inbetween the familiar images of the opening montage of the show. Gradually, the redone montage begins to melt eerily down the screen, and the video comes to a screeching halt. Finally, a few words flash on the screen briefly. “In Memorium. Willow and Tara. 1999-2001.” And then after a moment, “Joss, you’re going down. And I don’t mean downtown. Bastard.” Tarabot appears confused, while the Traumatized Kitten looks as though she feels ill. The Kitten who made the video, RALLY, stands by proudly.
TARABOT
It’s very bitter. But I don’t understand, Willow is my-
Now RALLY, eager to release more of the pent up bitterness that has infected her, jumps in, interrupting.
RALLY
I’ve been reading a lot of Allen Ginsberg. You know,
“Howl,” and whatnot. Been trying to deal with my
bitterness through creating.
TARABOT
(approvingly)
Good for you. Get back in touch with your
inner Peruvian fruit bat of happiness.
A beat. Rally shoots the both of them a quizzical look. The Traumatized Kitten laughs way too enthusiastically.
TRAUMATIZED KITTEN
Oh, God. She’s always like that. With the totally
imcomprehensible and yet good-naturedly
optimistic humor. Good ol’ Tara.
Still laughing a little desperately, the Traumatized Kitten pulls Tarabot away from the thread. Calls back to Rally-
TRAUMATIZED KITTEN (cont’d)
Come on, wacky Tara. See you Rally!
INT. THE KITTEN BOARD - HALLOWED HALLS O’ BITTERNESS FORUM – ‘SPOILERY DISCUSSION: 101 WAYS TO MESS WITH YOUR AUDIENCE’
Now the Traumatized Kitten, looking seriously anxious, and Tarabot sit together along with a number of other Kittens. A somewhat stern-looking refugee from the C&S board, MARCUS COPPAFEELIUS, is expounding at some length.
MARCUS COPPAFEELIUS
(mid-spiel)
… as you can see, there is no reason to expect
that we will ever again see Spike in the position
of Big Bad. Beyond question, he is on his way to
being redeemed, as you can clearly see from
this position here.
Indicating the visual aid material he has provided, he points to a picture of Buffy and Spike grinding listlessly up against each other in the alley behind the Doublemeat.
MARCUS COPPAFEELIUS (cont’d)
As Buffy fans, you have a responsibility
to uphold and support the shipper leanings of other Buffy
fans. To teach your fellow Kittens what
Buffy and Spike truly mean-
Tarabot shoots her hand up. The Traumatized Kitten tries desperately to get her to put it down before Marcus sees her - but it’s too late.
MARCUS COPPAFEELIUS
Ms. Maclay?
An awed hush falls over the crowd as they notice for the first time that Tara is among them. Tarabot stands up. She sure knows the answer to this one. Declares proudly, confidently—
TARABOT
Buffy and Spike engage in many demeaning
and demoralizing sex acts together.
A beat. Marcus Coppafeelius barks-
MARCUS COPPAFEELIUS
Precisely. Which is exactly why people like me
come to your board, and instead of staying on topic
and discussing Willow and Tara, who have a truly
beautiful, miraculous love, we go on about the once
in a lifetime trainwreck of a romance of two sworn enemies
locked together in a churning, boiling mix of lust,
violence, morbid apathy, and self-loathing.
Tarabot pipes up again. The Traumatized Kitten looks like she wants to die.
TARABOT
I wrote about doing spells with Willow today.
MARCUS COPPAFEELIUS
(shaken out of his rant, drooling slightly at the imagery)
Oh?
TARABOT
Before we came here. Spells and levitation.
Extra Flamey O’s.
Now one of the gathered Kittens chimes in, spittle collecting into foam at the corners of her mouth.
SLAVERING KITTEN
S-sassy eggs?
Tarabot nods enthusiastically, recognizing the phrase.
HORNY KITTEN
Oh, God. I have to get back to the ‘Smut!’ thread.
Stirred up, now all the Kittens clamor amongst themselves, heading back into the various smut receptacle threads strategically located throughout the whole of the Kitten board.
Tarabot sits, smiles. The Traumatized Kitten gulps, sweating.
INT. KITTY CHAT – DAY
BOB is relaxing in Kitty chat while taking a break from writing. A map of the greater Los Angeles area and the keys to his car sit next to his computer. Brian and Len are idly chatting with him on and off while moderating the board.
BOB
(wearily)
Len – that Kitty who posted last night that Joss
Whedon was the antichrist and they had proof is at
it again. You might want to see to that.
Len moves to him – genuinely concerned.
LEN
Are you okay?
BOB
Me? Okay? Sure, I’m alright. You know, aside from the
post-traumatic effects of having seen Willow’s stunt double
standing atop the hood of that big, high-jacked semi,
bent upon bringing hell to Sunnydale.
Again.
LEN
Just remember your mantra.
(thinks for a minute)
And hey, even if Joss does turn out to be an evil
bastard from the ninth level of Hades, we can
still get through this. All of us. Together.
BOB
You’re right. Thanks, Len.
(beat)
But I swear by all that’s holy, if Tara stays dead, I’m
going to write one heck of a very strongly worded
letter to that man. I might even have to employ some
off-color language. No kidding!
Len glowers at the mere thought of such a betrayal by Joss.
LEN
He wouldn’t.
Something passes between Len and Bob, a shared sense of righteous indignation being steadily fanned into-
BOB
(starting to seethe with rage)
You know, these days I’m not sure I’d put it past him.
That knuckle-biting son of a llama.
Len’s own rage ignites off the spur of Bob’s outburst. He counters with a stream of his own invective.
LEN
That conniving, manipulative, witch-burning Benedict Arnold!
Almost quicker than Brian can move to intervene, Len and Bob’s streams of white hot bitterness crash into one another, entangling and sending both Kitties into a psychotic rage. They leap at each other, holding forth their bitterness like light sabers.
LEN
Die, you son of a whore!
BOB
(venomously)
Only if I can drag you screaming with me, you Xander/Dawn shipper!
Brian manages to come between them just in time, his own trusty Canadian rage serving to counter their mounting bitterness.
BRIAN
Okay, when I’m marveling at
the rage? Be scared.
(calmingly, to Len)
Len. Bob is a very nice man who is spending a great
deal of his own personal free time to track down spoilery
info for us firsthand. You don’t really want to hurt him,
it’s just the bitterness getting the best of you.
BOB
It’s not even “spoilers.” We’re talking actual scenes being shot.
At the words “being shot,” all three of them flinch as if in great pain, remembering…
LEN
(starting to lose it again)
Shot…
BRIAN
(grabbing Len by the shoulders)
Come on, buddy. Like you were saying earlier, we can get through this.
There’s no shortage of love at the Kitten board.
He pats Len on the back. Len manages to recover himself, nodding quietly to Bob in apology. Bob smiles tightly before becoming lost again in his own reverie. Brian and Len go back to moderating and talk more in an IM.
BRIAN
What are you doing? What kind of way to
hold it together for the board is that?
LEN
(contrite)
I know. I know. It’s just – he keeps going to shoots
and bringing back more and more depressing info. And
I know that’s gotta be hard on the guy, but it’s not any
easier for me- for any of us. My god, Brian, in the last parody
I was the voice of reason and now look at me? I’m at another
Kitten’s throat. And not just any Kitten. BOB, for
christ’s sake. Gentle Uncle Bob.
BRIAN
(understandingly)
Give it time, Len. This is torture for all of us.
You just need to be patient. He’ll come back with good
news one of these days. Maybe tonight. You’ll see.
LEN
I know. I’m just so sick of Tara and Willow being broken up.
And Dawn whining. And Buffy and Spike shagging.
And I’m sick of waiting to tell everyone about Trevor and Fredrick.
Brian sighs.
BRIAN
We’ve talked about this. We can’t announce their
engagement while things are so up in the air.
LEN
Why not? It’s happy news. Happy
news in bitter times is a good thing.
BRIAN
It is, but… If things go as planned –
everything could be different.
Let’s just hold on.
LEN
That’s what you’ve been saying all season.
BRIAN
Please. Len. We’ll know more after
we talk to Ruth and Julia tonight.
LEN
Fine. Whatever. Just remember, this
gay love thing was all your idea. I
didn’t ask to be all lesbro lunacy-ridden.
He huffs off. Brian watches him go.
INT. THE KITTEN BOARD – ‘ASK ANY QUESTION STRESS FREE’ THREAD
Xita and the Traumatized Kitten are hanging out. The Kitten is finishing drawing a picture of Willow and Tara with crayons, like a little kid’s scrawling, with hearts and things like “Willow and Tara forever” scribbled all over while she relates the story of Tarabot’s performance earlier that day.
TRAUMATIZED KITTEN
… so that Spuffy shipper, Coppafeel guy, whatever his name
was? Was like- “Tara is hot. She must be bi. Hey, she and
Willow are still broken up right? So she’s like… single?”
He wanted to make it National Do a Lesbian Day.
XITA
That fucker. I’m banning his ass.
TRAUMATIZED KITTEN
Really?
XITA
Fuck yes. I’ve fucking had it with dick for brains,
pasty Spike cock-worshipping, Spuffy shipping, ‘Hey, look at me,
I’m a lesbian trapped in a man’s body’ wishing, fuckers like him.
Fuck that. That-
(off the Kitten’s particularly traumatized expression)
… is a very lovely drawing. In fact, it’s so adorable
that I’m going to add it to the W/T pics at the
bottom of the page on the Kitten. You got Tara’s
smile down perfectly.
They both react a little to this mention of Tara. The Kitten tries to hold it together.
TRAUMATIZED KITTEN
(genuinely pleased at the praise)
Th-thanks.
XITA
So what do you feel like?
More jam tart fic?
TRAUMATIZED KITTEN
Ruth and Julia said they’d be back
early. You don’t really have to hang.
I mean, if you’re bored.
XITA
I’m not, and yeah I do.
TRAUMATIZED KITTEN
But I’m fine alone. It’s not like anyone
can say anything worse than what we already
know is going to happen on the show. You know?
Xita does know, all too well. Just talk of current spoilers darkens her mood. Her failure to see it coming, to somehow manage to better prepare the Kittens for what is coming haunts her.
XITA
I’m not going to leave you here by
yourself. So forget it.
TRAUMATIZED KITTEN
I’m just saying-
Xita calls up one of the smutty threads in a flurry of pounding fingertips. In an IM to herself she types a succession of sobbing emoticons, knowing that while she must maintain a strong front for her Kitties, she’s crying on the inside. And dammit. That’s okay.
XITA
No. I’m not leaving you to get hurt.
Not again.
(then, firmly)
Now read.
The Kitten takes this in. Really getting the depth of Xita’s regret. Slowly the Kitty starts to read, almost immediately sighing with relief as the naked Willow and Tara goodness chases away the shadows. Xita looks on, comforted by the sight. Fade out.
EXT. THE KITTEN BOARD - DARK, DESERTED ”EARLY SIGNS OF WILLOW’S LESBIANISM” THREAD
A pretty Kitten scans quickly down the thread - and she's scared. Something is following her. Something in the shadows. SCHMUCKY KITTEN.
WOOSH! She's blind-sided and barraged on all sides by troll posts. She screams but the BOARD TROLL silences her with a post reading "Willoe is BI!!! Willoe and Ozz 4ever!!!!!!!!!!" Bludgeoned nearly senseless by the overuse of exclamation points, SCHMUCKY KITTEN starts to falter…
TARABOT (O.C.)
Don't be scared.
The Kitten and the board troll look up. See Tarabot.
TARABOT
(to Kitten)
I'm going to show him his
repressed homoeroticism reflection.
Scared, the troll releases his hold on the Kitten.
BOARD TROLL
Witch…
TARABOT
(still to Kitten)
You can go back to reading smut now.
The Kitten does as she's told. But the board troll also makes a break for it.
TARABOT (cont'd)
(to troll)
Not you.
Tarabot takes off after the troll, who violently SHOVES AN ANIMATED PIC OF BARECHESTED SPIKE AND HIS NIPPLES, SMIRKING at her, trying to block her way. But Tarabot merely JUMPS UP AND LEAPS OVER THE PIC in the style of “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.” Running, she launches herself at the retreating troll, tackling him and countering with her new specialized posting status, Miss Psycho Pep Squad.
They struggle for a beat but Tarabot bests the troll with a few well-landed blows to his fragile sense of sexual identity. But as she moves to turn the SPIKE PIC back around to face him to get him to 'fess up to wanting the pasty, pale, puppied one, the troll grabs an Oz action figure out of his back pocket and smashes it towards Tarabot’s face. Only it misses her head entirely, instead opening a gash in her chest just above her SASSY EGGS, exposing her inner WIRES AND ELECTRICAL CIRCUITRY.
Freaked, the troll yells and squirms out from under the distracted Tarabot.
BOARD TROLL
You're - you're a machine-
Tarabot gets up unsteadily.
TARABOT
Well, not the kind that Spike had made.
Although, come to think of it, Xita has been-
(she convulses as sparks fly from the gash)
The troll starts to back away. Tarabot follows, but lists to one side and makes the same “swimmy” type motions we saw in “This Year’s Girl”; what used to pass for Tara’s fighting skills. However, she doesn't seem to understand that she's malfunctioning and calls after the troll-
TARABOT (cont'd)
Stop!
The troll watches Tarabot bounce off of one thread, walk back into it. Bounce out of it again.
TARABOT (cont'd)
Board trolls beware!
The troll grins at her incapacity - takes off.
We see Tarabot, still hitting that thread. Like a kid's toy stuck in a corner. Off thread’s title, “The Naked Willow and Tara Sex Thread, Part 17” and Tara’s repeating murmur of pleased surprise.
INT. KITTY CHAT – NIGHT
Ruth, Julia, Len and Brian are gathered in chat. The mood is somber and tense. Everyone is on edge.
Ruth holds a small, very shiny metal box with a computer attachment plug, examines it gravely as the others look on.
JULIA
The Box of Billy Ray Cirus.
RUTH
Why is it called that? Who the
fuck is Billy Ray Cirus?
LEN
He was an American country singer
of mediocre talents who met with brief
success back in the early 90’s. One hit
wonder type guy, only his one hit is said
to have been pretty much the most annoying
song ever known to mankind.
RUTH
Ah. American. Country music.
No wonder I’ve never heard of him.
LEN
Actually, no one has ever heard of him.
That’s kinda the point. The guy who
invented that thing used the first one
to turn Billy Ray Cirus from “Achy
Breaky Heart” guy to Wipey, Swipey Guy
Who Cleans Windshields at the local gas
station. No one has ever heard of him, and
that godawful song was rewritten out of
existence. Quite a feat.
(he grins indulgently)
Score one for the computer techies.
RUTH
(blinks, takes a long drag on her fag-
a cigarette, I mean, not Extra Flamey Joel;
looks bitter)
Right then. So how does it work?
LEN
You plug it into your keyboard and type
the reality which you wish to change. Then
you highlight that and simply overwrite it.
The only catch is that you can’t change reality
that drastically. It just comes down to the
wording- gotta tweak things just right.
BRIAN
And we only have one shot at this, right?
So really, it has to be perfect.
Brian looks meaningfully at Ruth, but the smutstress seems too entranced by the box she holds to notice.
RUTH
Where did you find out about this thing, Len?
LEN
From a link Brian sent me, actually.
His new favorite haunt.
JULIA
(disbelieving)
You found the last known Box of Billy
Ray Cirus on WingedFairyPorn.com?
Brian sputters with Canadian rage, glaring balefully at Julia and typing many an angry smiley in the chat room.
BRIAN
I can’t help it, okay.
(he mutters curses under his breath, then something
sounding like “dancing ‘round the fairy tree…”)
Surprisingly, Ruth remains silent. She’s still lost in thought. The moment passes. A quiet beat.
BRIAN
You got your bitter on, Ruf.
The box not up to spec?
Ruth looks to Julia. They share an understanding.
RUTH
It’s the one.
She turns to Brian and Len.
RUTH (cont’d)
Which means we’re a go.
BRIAN
A go? Like a-go-go?
With the downtowniness?
LEN
Are you sure?
RUTH
I am.
JULIA
Venus is conjunct Pluto, and we have --
do we have everything?
RUTH
Just about.
BRIAN
But why the sudden nowishness? Did the bot
blow her cover at the Kitten the other day?
JULIA
No, she did great. She made all
the Kitties horny as fuck. The SMUT! thread
hits have tripled in the past twelve hours.
BRIAN
And they still thought it was Tara?
RUTH
Tomorrow night. We'll meet here at--
BRIAN
Whoa! Let's apply the lead-heavy foot and
haul on the moose reins here!
This is deep stuff, Ruth. We're
talking about raising the dead.
RUTH
And it's time to stop talking.
Tomorrow night, we're bringing
Tara back.
A beat as this sinks in.
BLACK OUT.
END OF ACT ONE
Act 2
INT. KITTEN CHAT - NIGHT
Just where we left off. Everyone sits up a little, fear and adrenaline pumping.
BRIAN
Tomorrow.
LEN
I don't know...
BRIAN
HBO’s Real Sex is doing a piece
on WingedFairyPorn.com. And my
tape machine's sorta wonky—
RUTH
Guys. I need you guys on board here.
BRIAN
It just ... it feels wrong.
JULIA
It is wrong.
Ruth shoots her a look -- didn't expect that.
JULIA (cont'd)
It's against all the laws of physics
and practically impossible to do
but it's what we agreed to. If you
guys are changing your minds—
RUTH
Nobody's changing their minds.
Period.
BRIAN
Excuse me. You’re not even a moderator.
Who made you the boss of the group?
LEN
You did.
JULIA
You said ‘Ruth should be boss.'
LEN
And then you said 'Let's vote' and it
was unanimous.
JULIA
You made her that little animated avatar
that said 'SMUT BINT BOSS OF US,'
with the wiggly little boobs —
BRIAN
Valid points all. But we -- I mean, we
were just talking then...
RUTH
I can do this, Brian. I promise.
But not without you.
LEN
Should we maybe tell Bob? Now
that we're really ready? It's not
like he's going to find out anything
encouraging at the last few shoots...
Like Joss would let a script go into
production where public shoots would
give away anything that would spare us
a single moment of suspenseful agony.
RUTH
No. No one else can know. Not
Bob, not Xita, not Garfield. They
might not understand—
JULIA
And if something does go wrong—
RUTH
I'm telling you it won't.
BRIAN
Scenario: We raise Tara from the grave.
She tries to visit boystown with Trevor. Do we, 'A':
congratulate ourselves on a job well done—
RUTH
This isn't rewriting her sexuality, Brian.
Or any other portion of her character.
LEN
(pointedly to Brian, a little miffed)
Leave Trevor out of this. Besides,
like she’d go for him anyway.
(then, fondly)
Unless of course, perhaps she was
swayed by his wily charms. Lotta
people underestimate that, you know –
RUTH
This isn't like writing normal
fan fic, or anything we've dealt
with before. Tara didn’t have to die.
She was killed to create drama on
the show for fuck’s sake.
JULIA
Which means we have enough bitterness
to fuel perhaps even more than one
resurrection. Speaking of, anyone else
interested in bringing back Uncle
Milty while we’re at it?
RUTH
(ignoring that last bit)
It means more than that. It means we
have a godamned right, as fans scorned,
to do this. Fuck Joss. I’m – I’m tired of being bitter.
There! I said it! And I am.
BRIAN
(hurting)
We saw her body, Ruth.
He put her in the fucking ground.
RUTH
(getting worked up)
Her beautiful, fucking body. And who knows
about her soul? That could be somewhere
else, trapped it some Hell dimension, or worse,
fucking Tiny Dogwood fic. Suffering some eternal
Pantyish torment that we can't even imagine
just because she loved Willow and I am
not gonna let her...
(near tears)
...I'm not gonna leave her there.
She collects herself, faces off with Brian.
RUTH (cont'd)
It's Tara.
A beat.
BRIAN
What time do we meet?
INT. THE KITTEN BOARD – ‘THE NAKED WILLOW AND TARA SEX’ THREAD - NIGHT
Ruth enters to find Xita hovering over Tarabot, whose injury looks even worse in the light.
TARABOT
Bint!
RUTH
(her jaw drops)
Holy fuck. What happened?
Where's that Kitten you were tending to?
Tarabot posts the particulars of how to go about giving a moose a sponge bob square bath, using html tags at random. Quickly, Xita deletes this.
XITA
The Traumatized Kitten is fine.
She read your biker fic ten times
and signed off to go do a spell or
something. But it seems the bot here
got into a scrape while she was
patrolling the board.
TARABOT
I think my boobs are broken.
Ruth moves to Tarabot and helps her to sit.
RUTH
Looks more like a short in the
quirk-o-meter.
(to Xita)
Can you help me with the programming? It's
late and I don’t want to drag Len out of
bed to fix her. And if I try, good God
knows what will come of it – she might
turn out to be a sex bot after all.
Traumatize the lot of us even further.
Xita IMs her back as her attention is drawn to a brief skirmish in the speculation thread.
XITA
She wanted to go out again and look for
you. But I was afraid she would just go write
more panty fic. And I think we’ve all
had quite enough of that lately.
RUTH
Good thinking-
TARABOT
But my lesbo street cred diminishes
when I'm injured. I'm programmed to
go to you to get outfitted with new smut fic.
RUTH
I know. Still, just this once it was
a good idea to stay put. Xita was right.
Xita returns to the thread to help just in time to see Tarabot looking sweetly at her.
TARABOT
I'm sorry I questioned you, Xita.
You know I admire your brain almost
as much as your large, luscious breasts.
Xita blanches, hissing under her breath as Ruth taps away at a keyboard hooked up to Tarabot, rewriting her wonkified script files.
XITA
(to Ruth)
I told you to make her stop doing that.
RUTH
I did. I mean, I thought I got all
that stuff you wrote in –
(smirks)
-- behind our backs
out of the program-
XITA
Well, you've got her opened up –
(she shivers slightly, hearing the sound of her own voice)
fix it.
RUTH
Sure. I mean I've got a lot of- Jesus Christ,
look at this posting log. You might want to
make your way over to the Pens Board.
Looks like she did manage to-
Ruth pauses, looking up. Xita is no where to be seen. Ruth scowls darkly.
RUTH
Fucker.
Xita’s gone. Tarabot registers distress.
TARABOT
Did I say something wrong?
RUTH
No. It's not your fault.
TARABOT
I think Xita stopped liking me.
RUTH
That's not true. She thinks your eggs are sassier than ever.
TARABOT
Then how come she never looks at me
anymore? Even when she's talking to me?
Ruth takes this in. She can understand why she doesn't.
RUTH
She’s just in a very bitter place these days. As most Kittens are.
(then)
Now just relax...
She says this next a little too intently. It's clear she's talking more about the real Tara than the bot.
RUTH (cont'd)
I'm going to make you good as new.
I promise I am.
FADE TO:
INT. KITTEN BOARD – ‘SPOILER WHORE SUPPORT’ THREAD - NIGHT
It's late. But the Traumatized Kitten is still online, reading the posts in this thread over and over again. A long beat, then she wanders out towards --
INT. KITTEN BOARD – SPOILER THREAD - NIGHT
The Traumatized Kitten pads quietly into the thread, gazing forlornly at the Kitten board banner at the top of the screen, Willow and Tara in various poses of mutual adoration and tender regard. Then she scans down the thread to check for new spoilers. But there’s nothing new, hasn’t been for hours now.
We see that the Tarabot is fully repaired and is waiting patiently in case any board trolls attack overnight while the mods are sleeping safe and sound in their beds, dreaming dreams of Willow and Tara, early season 5. The bot herself is reclined, laying comfortably on a bed of smut fic.
The Traumatized Kitten takes in the sight for a moment before laying herself down next to the Tarabot, cuddling up against her – trying to take some comfort there…
FADE TO:
INT. KITTY CHAT - DAY
Garfield is sparring with Tarabot, who is back online, ready to help moderate the board, and looking good.
GARFIELD
Marvelous. But let's try it once more,
and this time remember your synonyms for “lustful.”
They go again. Len comes in catching the tail end of their exercise.
GARFIELD (cont'd)
(to Tarabot)
Good. Now, think of the Kitten board as your
home, the Kittens as your children.
Your and Willow’s very,
very horny children.
This is accompanied by Garfield’s customary big, cheesy grin smiley. Tarabot stops, perplexed.
TARABOT
I am unable to produce offspring, and Willow and the real Tara are -
GARFIELD
Of course. If you take it literally. What
we need to work on is your figurative
understanding of things. You know,
that and your smut writing skills.
Finally Len speaks. He's not unkind when he says-
LEN
Maybe you'd better stick to the
moderatey stuff. You don't want her
to chase the Kitties from the Pens board
back into the Spoiler thread again.
GARFIELD
I'm testing her responses after her injury.
I don't see how it can hurt to impart a
little of my immense personal charm and
Garfieldian philosophy on the writing of smut...
LEN
I just think the concept of horniness is
a little tough for her to grasp. She's
not the descendant of a long line of
hormonally driven smut fiends like us Kittens –
(a beat as he puzzles it in his head)
although I suppose she is more or less the
descendent of a vibrator for boys…
GARFIELD
I appreciate your input, Len, but I
think Tarabot has responded quite
nicely to our- ahem, sessions.
LEN
(consumed with his own bitterness)
I don’t even want to know what you’ve
been “imparting” to her, do I?
Len leaves chat to focus on moderating the board. Garfield looks a little deflated.
TARABOT
Would you like to test me again?
GARFIELD
Maybe we should call it a day. Your
responses look fine.
They finish up the last few lines of smut and troll response tactic strategies, and sit for a moment in companionable silence.
GARFIELD (cont'd)
Maybe Len’s right. I'm trying to
teach you as if you were ...
TARABOT
Able to secrete fluid from my-
GARFIELD
(interrupting)
Um. Yes. Precisely.
TARABOT
But I like your teaching. Every
smutstress needs her beta reader.
This stops Garfield. Tarabot's innocent face gazing at him...
GARFIELD
I'm not so sure about that.
TARABOT
What do you mean?
GARFIELD
Nothing.
(then)
I just can't help but wonder if she
would have even remotely liked the kind of
smut that does it for me. Tara.
TARABOT
I think she would. Willow has enjoyable pink, puffy parts,
much like the big red font you are so fond of.
GARFIELD
Right. We have that in common.
Now bitterness creeps into Garfield’s tone.
GARFIELD (cont'd)
And I’ve been doing what any good moderator does.
Let the board be overrun with bitterness.
TARABOT
That wasn't your fault-
GARFIELD
Of course not. It's how every
lesbian relationship on TV ends,
isn't it? Tara’s dead. Willow’s an evil murderer.
I finally get Xita to make me a mod, and
the whole place goes to gay hell. I can hardly even
bring myself to read fic anymore.
TARABOT
(innocently)
Then why don’t you write your own?
Garfield takes this in. It hits hard. Why indeed?
INT. UPN BRONZE – WILLOW AND OZ FOREVER THREAD
A punctuation mark heavy W/O shipper joint on a lonely stretch of Bronze thread someplace far from the safety and sanctity of the Kitten board.
The place is teaming with W/O SHIPPERS (including some SPUFFERS), who sport signatures that trail on lengthily, identifying them as, among other things, KEEPERS OF THE WITCH-ON-WOLF ACTION. As usual, they are speculating about the “inevitable” return of Oz to Sunnydale, and Willow to boystown.
Some of the Bronzers look weary, particularly the more sensible of the old regs, who have long endured the W/O shippers’ crude speculation. Occasionally one of these voice of reason types will try to point out that it has been two years now since Oz left the show and Willow discovered the “softer side” of Tara’s labia, but alas, it seems to do no good. Other posters seem to enjoy the chaotic frenzy of crazy troll logic. Among them we see the familiar numericized wording of the SCHMUCKY BOARD TROLL who fought Tarabot earlier. He’s drunk now and mouthing off to a W/O shipper named NOSYLLA and some of her friends.
SCHMUCKY BOARD TROLL
... so I've got her cornered in this
thread, see?
NOSYLLA
(disbelieving)
You've got the lesbo cornered.
SCHMUCKY BOARD TROLL
Yeah. I figured, it's my duty, right?
She's a menace to our ship. So we
fight - and I'm like - BOOM, BOOM,
BOOM! I got her on the ropes-
The impatient W/O shipper throttles the schmucky board troll with a mustard colored butt plug engraved “Bury the Fury.” Beats him soundly about the face and neck.
NOSYLLA
You lying to me?
Schmucky scrambles, trying to win back his audience.
SCHMUCKY BOARD TROLL
I swear on all that's short and hairy! You
haven't even heard the best part. I cut
her, right? And she's, I don't know,
some kind of machine. She's not human.
Nosylla, confused, releases the Schmucky troll.
NOSYLLA
You've been reading too much Dawn/Buffybot smut.
SCHMUCKY BOARD TROLL
I'm telling you - it wasn't even the
witch, man. It was like a trick. A robot.
A beat - then Nosylla grabs the troll again and DRAGS HIM over to another website, where the leader of the pack, a demon called WERC, sits with his entourage. Werc is a little bit Rick Moranis as Dark Helmet in “Spaceballs,” a little bit Gachnar (“the wee Irish fear demony thing”) from Buffy, season four, “Fear Itself.” A lot funny looking. He sits on a hoarded heap of stolen spoilers, nabbed from various sites throughout the Buffyverse, having claimed them as his own spoilery footwork and marketed them as such on his own website.
WERC
What's with the ditch dweller?
(to troll)
Don’t you have a billy goat somewhere to gruff up?
NOSYLLA
(to troll)
Talk.
SCHMUCKY BOARD TROLL
(nervous)
Okay. See, I was over at the Kitten board,
minding my own beeswax, when I see
the Lesbo-
The W/O shipper brandishes the butt plug baton again, smiling menacingly in the Schmucky troll’s direction.
NOSYLLA
The part about the robot.
SCHMUCKY BOARD TROLL
We fought, right? And I was all over her -
BOOM, BOOM-
Nosylla cuts him off, running out of patience.
NOSYLLA
He says the witch has been replaced by
some kind of machine-
SCHMUCKY BOARD TROLL
A robot, yeah! And I kicked her
synthetic, yet still, lusciously lifelike ass.
You shoulda seen the sparks ...
And the Kittens, they don’t even seem
to realize-
Now WERC stands out of the booth - HE'S FUGLY. The troll pauses in his rambling, gulping in fear.
WERC
You're telling me that Tara is gone,
and the Kittens don’t know it yet?
SCHMUCKY BOARD TROLL
That's what I'm saying. They've got
some kind of decoy standing in for
her. The board is wide open.
Nosylla nods. Liking the sound of this.
NOSYLLA
Nowhere like the Kitten board for a
party. There's all kinds of girl on girl action- uh…
I mean, disgusting, perverted, lesbo sick-o stuff
in that place.
SCHMUCKY BOARD TROLL
Yeah. With your spoilers you could
own it in no time. And, look, I know
you don't usually let trolls
join the gang and I've got the whole-
(makes quotes)
"spelling issue"- but I was thinking,
as thanks for the 411, you might let
me throw in with you-
Werc silences him by quickly blocking his IP address from the site, throwing in a nasty lil computer virus to make sure the troll can’t get online any time in the near future. The Schmucky troll disappears without a trace.
WERC
Do not defy me!
Werc wipes the dust off his hands… Looks to the rest of his gang, who have all gathered around.
WERC (cont'd)
Let's ride.
EXT. ‘AIN’T I A FOOL NEWS’ SITE - DAY
LOW ANGLE
As the flying monkey minion music from “The Wizard of Oz” comes up, Werc and his gang TEAR OUT OF THE SITE like bats out of Tiny Dogwood’s cobweb encrusted nether realms, PAST CAMERA. Heading for trouble.
BLACK OUT.
END OF ACT TWO
Act 3
INT. ‘LESBO STREET CRED’ SITE - DAY
Golden afternoon light sifts through the window into Ruth’s apartment, peaceful, serene. We see some movement at the desk and RUTH appears, holding a velvet satchel. Her expression is grave, focused.
She opens the satchel ... Removes the one and only copy of a fic she has just finished writing which contains a heretofore unimagined mix of compromising positions, naked Wicca style. It is lusty. It is lovely. It is everything that a smutfic should be – and more. She clutches the pages reverently to her heaving breast for a moment before holding them before her. She begins to read -
RUTH
Arching, twisting, enfolding...
Good God this is horny...
She looks away from the paper a moment, seeming almost grief-stricken, and then – resolve face.
RUTH (cont'd)
(reading again)
Wetness enveloping, lips parted, thighs clenching...
(then, in an aside, to the fic?)
Forgive me, blessed one, finest smutfic
ever to spring forth from my trembling loi-
erm, hand...
Now we pan back to see that at Ruth’s feet lies Olaf’s hammer. For now she ignores it, totally enthralled in the smutty glory she holds in her hands until –
Taking a deep breath, Ruth steadies herself – and then in one quick, fluid motion, she throws the fic down at her feet, snatches up the troll’s hammer, and smashes the fic to bits. Luscious adjectives and heady nouns go flying everywhere, soaking through the carpet, and a wailing sound arises, the sound of lustlorn Kittens being denied naked Willow and Tara before they ever had a chance to feast their eyes on the raw, lovely horniness that lays dying here on the floor.
The magic of the fic shudders one last time and dies, Ruth watching with what can only be described as agonized sorrow.
A stunned beat. Once the fic lies torn to bits, Ruth, her shirt sleeves now blackened with ink, holds open the satchel over the smashed fic. One by one, the pieces of the fic, bits of words and phrases, lost letters, are sucked into it. She chants, her voice shaky now, as she sprinkles the satchel with bitterness harvested at dawn from the damp pillows of a hundred cried-out Kittens.
RUTH (cont'd)
Spirit of Sapphic salaciousness... Divine union,
joining of naughty bits, accept our humble
gratitude for your offering. In the little death,
you give life. May you find wings to
the panties of wanton women.
Off Ruth, contemplating the satchel. Contemplating what she's just done.
INT. KITTEN CHAT - DAY
Julia, Brian, and Len are now gathered in Kitten chat. Julia turns at the sound of Ruth grumbling drunkenly over voice chat, looking up from the latest bit of Panty spoiler fic in time to see the smutstress enter. Ruth is piss drunk - no evidence of her earlier bitterness remains.
JULIA
Hey. You're late.
Ruth’s attitude is completely normal, if a bit lacking in bitterness, and non-slurredness. The others are clearly not aware of what she's just done.
RUTH
Oh, I had to get that thing.
BRIAN
Xita isn't around. You don’t have to speak
in tongues, although if you really want to, can
I request that it be Willow’s tongue in
naughty Tara-ish places?.
RUTH
Oh do fuck off.
(then)
You know, the last spell ingredient.
BRIAN
Oh, right. What is "Queso del Vientre" anyway?
RUTH
(shoots him a bitter smiley)
That means “Cheese of the bellybutton” in Spanish.
But what’s it got to do with the spell? I had to
stop by um… you know, TinyDogwood’ssite.
She says it in a rush, as though embarrassed to have to admit having been there. Brian shoots Julia a look of Canadian rage so white hot that it could stop even a Xander/Dawn fic author in his tracks.
JULIA
(ignoring Brian)
Tiny Dogwood panty? You didn't tell me that.
You shouldn't have gone alone. It
could have been desmuttifying.
RUTH
Sorry. I didn't ... I was careful.
LEN
It must be something pretty intense.
Tiny Dogwood fic is all bastardized Andrew Lloyd Webber and spooky ‘ship leanings.
RUTH
All I know is – “fruit of the unholy,” we have to have it to
do the spell. Which makes it tolerable
stuff in my book.
Ruth turns to Brian and Len now, changing the subject.
RUTH (cont'd)
How come you guys are here, anyway?
I thought we weren't meeting up until later.
BRIAN
We weren't, but it felt too weird hanging
out on our own. Plus, you know – strength
in numbers. It’s easier to resist the lure of
the spoiler thread if we’re –
He pauses, pained.
JULIA
It's better that we're together, reading to each
other from Willow and Tara’s most horny, skyclad
moments instead of Warren’s greatest misses and…
(her eyes glimmer with suppressed rage)
hits.
RUTH
You got bitterness, bint?
JULIA
More like wrath.
LEN
Would you like to look at Trevor?
I find it calms me. Well, maybe ‘calms’ isn’t
quite the right – yeah…
JULIA
That's okay. But thanks.
Ruth moves to Julia. Puts her arms around her.
RUTH
Whore, tell the wrath it's going to be alright.
I promise. We couldn't be more prepared.
JULIA
I know. I just wish it was time. I
can’t handle any more of this teasing,
you know? I just need…
She makes a pumping motion, smacking her fist repeatedly against the palm of her other hand.
RUTH
Fisting?
JULIA
(blushing)
No, you bint. Just… com-pleting.
I’m not so good with… you know…
extended foreplay. Time to get to the – uhh!
She repeats the fist-slamming motion a few times, adding a little moan to the end this time for effect. Ruth shivers and makes a pleased noise.
Len discovers something behind the counter. Looks up amazed.
LEN
Well, it's your lucky day then. I
have something to distract you.
Len moves to them holding a piece
