Translations: Oh, poop, you know the Spanish one. Det er kun os kyllinger her!--Danish for 'It's just us chickens here.' J'ai pensé ceci était HBO--French for 'I thought this was HBO.'

*Scribe bustles into the living room, humming to herself. She sets a full ice bucket and a two liter bottle of Diet Coke on the coffee table, then surveys the other contents.*

Scribe: "Let's see... Soda, ice, nachos, popcorn, two kinds of Pop Tarts, TV Guide, fresh batteries in the remote." *She rubs her hands together.* "All set."

Scribe: *Scribe positions herself comfortably on the sofa and picks up the remote and the TV Guide.* "I better check what's on before TW gets here. Now, what looks good?"

*Flash!*

Strife: "That guy that plays Spike on Buffy."

Scribe: "Eep!" *pant* "Will you stop doing that?"

Strife: "Nah."

Scribe; "Figures. What are you doing here?"

Strife: *Strife shrugs* "I smelled nachos." *He picks up the plate.* "Hey, no peppahs?"

Scribe: "Put them on your own half. You will be taking half, I assume?"

Strife: "At least." *Pops a cheese-coated chip in his mouth and munches.* "Mmm. I gotta find out who invented Velveeta an' send 'em flowahs." *munch munch* "So, whattah we doin?"

Scribe: "I'm caught up on my fiction, so I thought I'd spud out for a little while. TW should be here soon. She's bringing pizza."

Strife: "Sounds good. Hope she got anchovies--I developed a taste for 'em while I was preggers. Quit gaggin. What we gonna watch?"

Scribe: *consults Guide* "Oo, there's Sweeny Todd, the Demon Barber of Fleet Street on Bravo."

Strife: "Wha-huh?"

Scribe: "A musical about a barber that cut people's throats with a straight razor, and his landlady who made them into meat pies."

Strife: "Bleh! Interestin, but bleh. An' they say we came up with some grisly things. No Buffy? I could get behind some Spike-itude."

Scribe: "Couldn't we all? No, Buffy's not on now. How about Dawson's Creek?"

Strife: "Is Dawson Still a virgin?"

Scribe: "I haven't been watching it, but probably not."

Strife: "He do it with Pacey or tha cute gay football playah?"

Scribe: "I think it would have made the network newscasts if he had."

Strife: "Pass."

Strife: *doorbell rings* *Strife jumps up.* "I'll get it!" *he heads toward the door*

Scribe: "Good thing it's TW and not the pizza delivery guy. If a Winnie citizen saw my door opened by someone who looks like Strife... I don't think I could handle the looks I'd get in Sunday school."

*Strife opens the door. TW stands outside, carrying a large pizza box* *Her jaw drops*

*Strife takes the box in one hand, gloms onto TW with the other arm, and lays a lip lock on her*

Strife: "Hiya."

TW: "Homina..."

Strife: "Me, too. Gotta thank ya fer that lil orgy scene ya wrote up in Peace, Love, an' Bulletproof Marshmellahs. Reeeeal nice." *Jerks TW inside and shuts the door*

Scribe: *Scribe looks up from the TV Guide.* "Hey. You didn't get anchovies, did you?" *Strife sticks his tongue out at her.* "Don't tempt me."

TW: "Scribe, nobody ever gets anchovies unless specifically ordered to get anchovies. I could have piled on some fish sticks if you really needed piscean protien. Half pepperoni and mushroom, half sausage."

Strife: *Strife has opened the box and is pulling out a slice. Cheese strings out.* "Hot dog! Extra cheese."

TW: "Wait! Don't..." *chomp* *howl* "...bite into that. Ow."

Scribe: *giggle*

Strife: "Ith not funny."

Scribe: "Sez you. We have an extra guest, TW. And judging from the way he eats, you should have used the twofer coupon." *tosses the Guide* "Screw it. Let's just channel surf." *Scribe turns on the tv as TW and Strife settle in.* *Nothing but snow* "Crap." *Scribe pushes more buttons.*

Strife: *Strife notices a huge pile of mail on the table and begins to sort through it* "Ya got lousy reception, Scribie."

Scribe: "What's the weather like outside?"

TW: "Clear."

Scribe: "It worked fine last night." *raises her voice* "Snicky?"

Snicky: *a large black and white tomcat enters the room* "Meow?"

Scribe: "Snicky, have you been screwing around with the cables again?"

Snicky: "Nyow."

Scribe: "Are you sure?" *Snicky turns to walk away, hoisting his tail so everyone, particularly Scribe, can be sure to have a clear view of his butt.* "He's sure. Man, he's had attitude ever since I got him fixed."

Strife: "I don't blame 'im. Hate tah think how I'd be if someone did that ta me."

Scribe: "Do you pee on the furniture and shred the drapes?"

Strife: *eyes shift* "Not on a regulah basis." *hands her two envelopes* "I think maybe I got a clue as ta what happened."

Scribe: *examines envelopes* "How the hell did I get two payments behind?!" *suspicious look at Strife* "Did you have anything to do with this?"

Strife: *wipes cheese up off plate with finger, then licks finger clean* "This move drives Feathahs crazy, an' no, it weren't none of mine."

TW: "Just quit opening your mail on the couch and it won't slip down between the cushions and be lost for three weeks."

Scribe: "Well, double doo-hockey! I can't afford to get the service turned back on till day after tomorrow, and the local channels are for shit!" *Her bottom lip starts to tremble*

Strife: *puts plate down* "Aww." *Holds out arms* "C'mere." *deep hug* "How ya doin now?"

Scribe: "Mmmm..."

Strife: *sets Scribe back* "Uh-uh. Cupe would be pissed if anythin happened without him."

Scribe and TW: *sigh* (stereo)

Strife: "Tell ya what--I'll hook yer reception back up."

Scribe: "Thanks, but those Nazis would clobber me if they found out. I can't risk it."

Strife: *shrugs* "So I don't fix ya up with THEIR service. I'll set ya up with an OGTV connection."

Scribe and TW: "OGTV?" *They look at each other, each contemplating duets at karaoke bars*

Strife: "Olympus/Greece TeleVision, natch." *Strife throws a handful of blue sparkles at the television.*

*The screen suddenly pulls into focus.*

Voice: "...only fifty dinars down and fifty a month for the deluxe convertable model chariot. Stop by Honest Salmoneus's Used Chariot Lot for the best deals..."

Scribe: *Looks at TW* "The more things change, the more they stay the same."

*They settle comfortably to watch*

*Cheesy banjo music. Video of a sparkling, rushing stream, set in pristine woodlands*

Scribe: *blinks* "You know, if that was a lake, I'd say this was the beginning of a bass fishing show."

*Title appears on screen while narrator speaks*

Narrator: "It's time for The Warrior Way of Fishing! Here's our host, that Princess of Piscean..."

Xena: "Skip the alliteration, bozo. You never can come up with a good ending for that." *looks out at audience* "Welcome to the show. As you all know, fishing is an important part of Greek livelihood, and not just for the commercial fishermen on the coast. Nope. Even if you can't afford that haunch of roast venison at the local tavern you can usually scare up enough for bait, and that means you can have a good, old-fashioned fish dinner!"

*gestures toward the stream*

Xena: "We've covered net and fly fishing in previous shows. Now it's time for my favorite method." *She pulls the chakram off her belt and holds it up.* "Chakram fishing. I can hear you now. 'But Xena, doesn't water deflect? How can I possibly hurl that thing into a fish when it's going to go glancing off at a 35 degree angle? I'm not Pythagorus--I can't make those sort of calculations.' And I say, "Quit whining, you wusses!""

TW: "Is she just the same in real life?"

Strife: *sigh* "Moreso."

Xena: "Use your brains, people! All right, so if you can't aim properly at the fish while it's in the water, you find a fish that's out of the water."

Scribe: "But if it's already out of the water, why would you have to worry about catching it?"

Xena: "Will you just shut up and watch?"

Scribe: "Hey!"

Strife: "Guess I shoulda warned ya. Sometimes it works two way."

Scribe: "I'm not having her insult me while I'm on my home turf!" *growl* *mutter* "Next fiction I'm giving Gabby sunburn so bad Xena doesn't get any for a month!"

Xena: *ignoring her, at her own peril, I might add* *points at stream* "Watch." *large, shiny fish leaps up*

TW: *blinks* "Do they even have salmon in Greece?"

Strife: "Howthafuck should I know? Ya know damn good an' well that's an AU. If we have centaurs, harpies, an' hydras, why shouldn't we have salmon?"

Xena: *stands beside stream, crouched, chakram raised and ready* *voice hushed* "Now we just wait for one of those scaley beauties to leap..."

Scribe: "Run, salmon, run!"

TW: "They are running, aren't they? Or is that grunions?"

*salmon leaps* *Xena throws the chakram* *thunk*

*salmon drops, wiggling and chakram thunked, on the bank*

Xena: "And it's a lovely catch! Now we just have to collect it and have our resident cook prepare it, if she'll stop bitching about how often we eat fish."

*large bear dashes into view, snatches up the salmon*

Xena: "Hey! Drop that!"

*bear growls* *Xena growls* *bear considers the odds and books, carrying salmon* *Xena follows*

Narrator: "Uhhh... So! That's it for this week! Tune in next week when Xena will show you how to wrestle alligators to determine hunting territories, and..."

Xena: *staggers back into view, wiping a bloody dagger on her leather skirt.* "And be sure to watch this week's Crafts With the Muses, where they'll be showing you the best way to make a bear skin rug."

Scribe: "He shoulda left the fish. I woulda had enough brains to leave the fish." *clicks remote*

Narrator: "It's Trading Temples! As you know each week two deities swap temples, and are given 100 dinars to redecorate the other's space!"

TW: "What's up with the spending limit? Don't they just poof up anything they want anyway?"

Strife: "Yah. Usually tha dinars are spent buyin wine so's we can get drunk while we're redecoratin." *giggles* "Get some real interestin results that way."

Narrator: "This week's participants are from the House of Love and the House of War. Can we say 'contrasts', people?"

Scribe: "Can we say 'fucking obvious'? Strife, I thought the divinities were supposed to be masters of subtlety. What gives?"

Strife: "Scribeypoo, this is tha media, dig? Hello? Can you say 'caterin ta tha lowest common denominatah'?"

Scribe: "Point taken."

Narrator: "Aphrodite and Cupid were put in charge of Ares's temple, and Ares and Eris were sent to 'Dite's temple. Both groups worked their little hearts out."

*Scribe and TW both blow raspberries at the screen*

Narrator: "Okay, okay, so they whipped everything up with mental power. Sheesh, gimme a break. I have to read the patter they write me. First off, Aphrodite?"

Aphrodite: "It was a lot of work, let me tell you. I love my bro, but the man has very limited fashion sense. Sure, basic black is a classic, but not when it comes to decorating! His place looked like a cross between a goth club and a military survivalist compound. I mean, like, eeewww. But I managed to brighten the place up."

Narrator: "Let's see Ares's and Eris's reaction to the change."

Ares: "Pink. Pink everywhere! It looks like a fucking rose garden exploded in there, and... and... Baby's Breath? Cupid?"

Cupid: "Dad, I swear to you, I tried! But you know Mom when she gets going."

*Eris comes charging in. Steam is rising from her head*

Eris: "I can deal with the Laura Ashley sheets. I'll gag a little, but I can deal with them. But what the fuck happened to the set of chains, and most particularly, what happened to the guy I had locked in them?"

Narrator: "Okay! Now let's catch the reaction when Aphrodite and Cupid see what Ares and Eris whipped up."

Aphrodite: *heavy silence*

Cupid: "Mom, it isn't as if you weren't expecting black."

Aphrodite: *more silence*

Cupid: "I know the weapons on the walls are a bit much, but look! I think that dagger has a rose design on the handle!"

Aphrodite: *even more silence*

Cupid: *whispering* "Mom, look, the chains in the bedroom? Didn't you mention something about an anniversary coming up, and you wanting to do something special for Heph? Well..."

Aphrodite: "It can stay like this till then. But damn it, I want my fuzzy bunny mural back!"

TW: *takes the remote and clicks it* "Sorry. Bunnies make me think of plot bunnies, and I can't deal with any more of them right now."

Scribe: "You telling me?"

*thumpthumpthumpthumpthump*

Strife: "What's that?"

Scribe: "I managed to lock them all in the closet. Decoyed them in there by throwing in a diskette labelled 'FIC IDEAS'. So, what are we watching?"

*TW zaps the box*

Gabby:"Welcome to Gabby Gabs, the talk show for the modern woman! I'm your host, Gabrielle, and today's show is all about Sexy Women Warriors. We have only one guest today, and she is-"

Xena: "Me!!" *bounce* *hand wave* "Gabrielle, it had better be me, or you're going to hurt later."

Gabby: *choke* "Erm...uh...I'm...I'm afraid Xena is not our guest today." *duck* *splatsquishooze* "Now, rotten tomatoes are not necessary! Our guest today is Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons."

Audience: "Boooo!! Hissssss!"

Xena: "Quiet!! She may be in trouble, but she's still my snugglebunny. You will appriciate her or face me."

Audience: *crickets chirping*

Gabby: "That's better. Now, let's welcome out guest. Hippolyta, come on out!!"

*polite applause*

Hippolyta: "Thank you, Gabrielle, for inviting me."

Gabby: "We're glad to have you with us. Please, take a seat. We'd like to talk about you and the rest of the Amazons. What is it like being the queen of a group of such beautiful and fine-tone women?"

Xena: *gaggaggag*

Hippolyta: "Well, the girls are all wonderful. They take orders quite well, especially when we need to guy bash."

*choking and snorting could be heard from TW*

Scribe: "What? I thought you liked guy bashing?"

Strife: "TW!! You guy bash?"

TW: "Heck no!! I only guy bash the idiotic morons"

Strife: "Oh. Well that's bettah. I was worried I'd hafta zap ya, and that wouldn'ta been pretty, since I'm hopin' you'll write more smut for me an' Cupe."

TW' *pinches Strife's cheek* "Of course I will. You're both too cute not to."

Xena: *raps on the TV screen* "Pay attention!! Don't make me practice Chakram Fishing with your heads!"

Scribe: "Oh, deal with it. You're asking for some serious owies, Xena. Ones that keep you from any nookie."

Gabby: "You're going to give me owies? But I'm not doing anything but trying to hold my show!! I really wanted to interview Hippoly-wait. Where'd she go?"

*entire audience looks away from door where the Queen of the Amazons is sneaking out, hoping that they'll be released*

Scribe: *snort* "Looks like you're stuck Gabby. What are you going to do now?"

Gabby: *tearssniffletears* "I'm gonna close the show." *Biiiiig snot pulling sniffle* "Tune in next week when we have..when we have... we have... Oh, Tartarus, when we have whoever we are going to have."

TW: *flick* "Well that's a relief. I hope the bills paid up by then, Scribe, or you're going to have to come over to my place. I don't know if I can deal with anymore Gabby Gabs."

*As Scribe changes the channel, TW takes a drink of her soda-which she promptly sprays everywhere as the faces of Apollo and Jett fill the screen.*

Strife: "TW, ya really need ta get that undah control. First computah monitahs, now TV screens?"

TW: *pointing* "But-but-but..."

*On the screen in front of them are Apollo and Jett, toe to toe, at the end of what appears to be a screaming match.*

Apollo: *wheedling voice* "Jett, if you let me do this makeover I'll see to it that you never stay in jail again, no matter how many people you assasinate."

Jett: *heaving a sigh of concession* "Deal. But I get to kill anyone who laughs."

Apollo: *leers* "Fine with me, hotstuff. But I get to choose everything." *turns to camera* "Hi there, and welcome to the debut of Apollo's Makeovers, my fan-tastic, totally original, despite what some people say..."

Jett: "Watch it. You're talking about my blood."

Apollo: "Chill, creamcake. I'm big enough to let the accusations bounce off me." *leers some more* "I'll show you just HOW big later, if you're nice." *Jett rolls his eyes* "Anyway, today we have a special guest with us--Jett of Corinth, brother of Joxer, God of Redemption.

TW: "Hey! Is he really God of Redemption, or is that just you guys humoring me?"

Strife: "You hear what ya wanna hear, Scribe hears what she wants to hear. Scribe, hunny? What did you hear?"

Scribe: "Joxer, Consort of Ares."

*TW looks thoughtful, but keeps her mouth shut. On the screen, Apollo is pulling Jett towards a chair that has straps attached*

Jett: *struggling* "Wait a minute! You didn't say anything about restraints. What the Tartarus do you have planned?!"

Apollo: "Jett!! Get in the chair now!" *zap* "And stay there!" *straps buckle themselves* "Now, I'm going to do a nice blond rinse, then I'm going to zap him into some nice pretty new clothes. Leather pants with, oh, a green shirt, I'd say, to highlight those lovely brown eyes. A tight one, to show off those be-yoootiful muscles."

*a few bursts of energy and a second later, all three occupants in a trailer in Texas are rolling on the floor, laughing so hard there are tears coming from their eyes*

Strife: "Buh-buh-blonde!!"

*snickersnortsnickersnortsnickersnort*

TW: "Leather!! Tight black leather! Looks painful! Lord, you can tell that his dad didn't believe in infant circumsicions."

*gigglegaspgigglegaspgigglegasp*

Scribe: *chucklechokechucklechokechucklechoke* "I didn't know they had spandex in ancient Greece!"

Jett: "Stop laughing and get me out of here!! Scribe, you are in so much trouble!"

Scribe: *wipes eyes, snags paper towel, and honks into it* "Calm down, sexy. You're gonna show up in Stranger in a Strange Land in a chapter or two, and since I'm posting it to the premier A/J, C/S list, I'll need someone for my MarySue to lose her virginity to."

Jett: *grins evilly* "All right!"

Scribe: "Oops."

Strife: "No backin out now, kiddo. Ya got witnesses." *TW nods vigorously.*

Jett: "Anyway, why are you all laughing?"

Apollo: "Their tastes are terribly plebian, dear boy."

Scribe: "I resent that. I live in a double-wide, not a trailer."

*Apollo materializes a large mirror* *Jett takes a look and his mouth drops open* *Poor Jett looks like a bottle of bleach has been used on his hair, it is so pale blonde. His shirt, made of a green stretchy fabric, hugs every muscle in Jett's torso, from his well muscled arms to his eight pack. His pants are so impossibly tight that they look like they are painted on his body, and leave no one with any doubts as to how...ahem well endowed Jett is*

Apollo: "Oh, doesn't he just look gorgeous?" *Apollo sits on Jett's lap, and wraps his arms around Jett's neck* "Ah could jist eat him all up!!"

*Scribe and TW both roll their eyes*

TW: "Everyone thinks they can do a Southern accent."

*Apollo proceeds to attempt to inhale Jett*

Jett: *pulling his arms free through sheer force* "All right! That's it!! I'm outta here!!!" *Jett runs for the door. No, runs through the door*

Scribe: *Scribe blinks* "I've only ever seen that in cartoons--a hole in the perfect silhouette of his body."

Apollo: "Oh well. He let me do it. I suppose I'll keep my end of the bargain. Next week, we'll have Autolycus, King of Theives with us, going for a whole new look!" *mutters to himself* "I'll need to attend a few boy band concerts for research purposes..."

*TW flips channels*

Scribe: *Scribe peers closely at the screen* "That's a kitchen. A cooking show?" *groan* "Please tell me we aren't going to get to see Gabby make rabbit stew or Xena roast fish."

TW: "I'll have to throw the remote at the tv if that happens, Scribe."

Strife: "Fuck that. I'll paste it with a fireball."

Scribe: "Fine. But if you do, you replace it with a home theater system."

Strife: "Looks like yer tv is safe. It's Cooking with Jayce."

TW and Scribe: "Jayce?"

*Jayce sweeps into the kitchen. Instead of the usual chef's whites he, of course, is dressed in peacock colors*

Jayce: "Hola, chu wonderful peeples. Hwelcome to Cooking With Yayce." *big, charming grin* "I'm Yayce." *shakes finger at audience* "As if chu deedn't know, chu nawtie peeples. That's right, hyi am finally hwhere I always knew I hwould be--in the public eye. Hiy'm here to show chu many hwonderful recipes from the old country."

Jayce: *the smile fades a little* "I'll tell chu a secret, dahrlings. Thees show ees a beet off-the-cuff. I had planned on doing a make-over show, but..." *he shrugs* "Ah, hwell, as Doris Day hwould say, 'Que sera, sera'. Lovely hwoman. No fashion sense, but lovely. So..." *claps hands* "Hyi thought we'd start off with a leetle beverage--horchata de almendra: milk of the gods." *titters* "Very appropriate, hyes?"

Strife: *picks up the bowl of popcorn* "Wunna you chicks write this down, huh?"

Scribe: "We'll forgive you for using the term 'chicks' if you let us share the popcorn."

TW: "Don't worry about it. I have a phonographic memory."

Scribe: "Don't you mean photographic?"

TW: "Same difference."

Jayce: *impatient* "If chu are quite finished?"

Strife, Scribe, and TW: "Sorry."

Jayce: *sniff* "All right. First thing, hwun pound of Tiger Nuts."

Scribe: "Huh? What's a Tiger Nut?"

TW: "I know I damn sure haven't run into any lately in a Whitman's Sampler."

Jayce: "For chu poor, deprived peeples in the hinterlands, make that almonds. Hwun pound of chugar, hwun laymon, hwun cinnamon stick, on teeny leetle peench huv salt, and two-and-a-half litres of hwater..."

Scribe: "Liters! Screw the metric system! I never did any good at conversion in high school."

TW: "Chill, Scribe. You have a two liter soda bottle, right? One and a fourth of those."

Scribe: "But they don't fill the bottle to the top! How can I tell how far up in the friggin' bottle the water is supposed..."

Jayce: *stamps foot* "Peeples!"

Scribe: "Sorry."

Jayce: "For Olympus' sake, cutie, hevery measuring cup in creation has metric measurements these days. Don't get chur knickers in a twist. Now, then, if chu dint get chur almonds already skinned, chu got to skin them." *expression darkens as he drops nuts into pan of boiling water* "Like some peeples ought to be skinned for taking haway a person's idea and shutting them out."

*the three on the couch exchange glances*

Jayce: "Hokay, chu let them sit till the skin yust slide right off. Through the magic of television we gots some skinned ones right here." *dumps skinned almonds out on a cutting board* "But we gotta grrrrrind these beauties into a paste, and that's a little hard when they're whole, so we need to chop them up. Hyou need to find a nice, sharp knife. Oh, look!" *picks up knife* "Here's one yust like the one..." *voice starts to get louder and more beligerent* "I found stuck in my back after a certain person stole my idea, and..." *a technitian runs out and whisperes in his ear* "What? Chu got to be kidding." *techie shakes head, looking worried.* "Oh, all right! Shoo, shoo!" *Jayce waves techie off* "After a certain person accidentally misappropriated my idea, an' I'd yust like to say that I think those slander laws are ridiculous. So, we chop the nuts."

*Jayce starts chopping almonds* "Yes, chop them fine, to make it easier to grind. Chop the nut, chop the nuts..." *He's chopping faster and harder. He's got a funny look on his face. Suddenly chopping wildly.* "Chop his nuts! Chop his nuts!"

Techie: "Jayce!"

Jayce: *stops abruptly* "Hwhat? Will chu yust calm down? I'm yust chopping the nuts. Then chu grind them, but I dun't have the patience to show chu right now, so..." *Jayce grabs a bowl full of white paste* "Here! Chu put the salt in the hwater, you slice the laymons..." *Jayce hacks the lemons into chunks rather than neat slices, then dumps them in the water, splashing water everywhere.*

TW: *looks at Scribe* "Maybe it's just me, but I sense a bit of tension in the chef."

Scribe: "I haven't seen anything like that since Bobbie Flay climbed up on the counter after his Iron Chef competition."

Jayce: "Then chu add the almond paste..." *He grabs handfuls and drops them into the water, mixing it in with his hands* "and chu mix, mix, mix like the estupido program managers were mixed up letting that arrogant, self-centered solar chariot steerer take my beautiful idea and..."

Techie: "Jayce, please!"

Jayce: "Oh, chut up!" *slams plate on bowl so hard that it shatters* "Cover the slop and let it sit for two hours at room temperachur. Not cold, like the hearts of the ones who turn their backs on this hinjustice, and not hot like the temper of a man who has been driven too far! After two hours add the chugar and cinnamon and stir till chugar disolves, till it melts like any integrity that Mister Shinypants ever had. I swear, it's not chur talent, it's who you are related to! When I think..."

Narrator: "Oops, we're running out of time, people! Next up..."

Jayce: *speaks up rapidly* "Strain the liquid till smooth. Or drink it lumpy and choke on the chit! As if I care!" *He takes a deep breath, collecting himself* *Suddenly he gives a broad, charming smile* "Be chur to come back, dahrlings! Next hweek: gazpacho!"

Scribe: "Cold tomato soup? Don't think so."

Strife: *grabs remote* "My choice!"

TW: "We know you! You're gonna look for smut."

Scribe: "You say this like it was a bad thing."

TW: "Who, me? I'm not complaining. I'm just commenting."

Strife: *clicks vigorously* "Yer gonna like this. Trust me!"

Scribe: "Those are the two scariest words in the world." *thinks* "Well, right up there with 'copyright infringement'.

TW: *peers at screen* *the scene is very dark, lots of romantic, flickering candles, and a BIG ass bed, with black satin sheets.* "What is this--a vampire movie?" *examines bed again. There are chains* "A porn movie?" *thinks, then brightens* "A vampire-porn movie?"

Scribe: *looks at Strife* "I love this woman. I'd say she was my long lost daughter, but I never sleep soundly enough to have missed something like that."

TW: "Shhhh! Look!" *bounces* "Two guys!"

Scribe and TW: "Slash!"

Scribe: *marvels* "And it looks like it's canon, not subtext!"

Strife: "Do you broads see slash in everythin?"

Scribe and TW: *looking puzzled at the need for this question* "Yes."

Strife: "Good. Tha mortal race is at least partially redeemed. Now, shut up an' watch. Yer gonna like this."

*Two men appear out of the gloom, locked in a tight embrace, snogging like the fate of the universe depended on them checking each other's tonsils with their tongues*

Scribe: *very quietly* "Woohoo!"

TW: *Just as quietly* "Woof! Woof! Woof!"

Strife: *waves at them* "Shhh!" *whisperes* "Sometimes these things work two way!"

*on screen, clothing is flying* *something hits the hidden camera, knocking it askew.*

Scribe: "Wait a minute! This isn't a cooking show, that was earlier!"

Strife: "Ya know, I find myself sayin this around you a lot--what tha fuck are ya talkin about?"

Scribe: "A spaghetti strainer just hit the camera."

TW and Scribe: *stare at each other, realization dawning* "Strainer?"

TW: "Joxer?"

Joxer: *The pale, thin man pushes nuzzles his bearded lover's ear* "What, Arrie?"

Ares: *busy licking Joxer's neck* "What,huh?"

Joxer: *giggles* "Ooo. You just called my name."

Ares: *has his hands down Joxer's pants* "Nuh-uh. The 'screaming your name' part comes a little later."

Joxer: *frowing* "Well, someone called my name." *Ares head jerks up alertly*

Strife: "Oh, fuck!"

TW and Scribe point at Strife: "It was his idea!"

Ares: *stalks over to the camera, glaring out at them.* "Who is that? Strife?"

Strife: "No hablo Englais, senor."

Scribe: "J'ai pensé ceci était HBO."

TW: "Det er kun os kyllinger her!"

Joxer: "Arrie, just disable the thing and get back over here! There's plenty of time to investigate later."

Ares: *sighs* "Okay, snookums." *he reaches toward the camera* *picture jumps, then goes black*

Strife: *giggles* "I ain't worried. Joxer will screw it right outta his mind." *clicks* "Let's see what else we can find. Maybe we can catch Apollow an' tha Muses."

*next picture shows a steamy, marble room* *water glistens in a sunken pool*

Strife: "Hot dog! Bath scene!"

*Cupid comes into the picture, totally nude.* *He hums to himself, pouring bath oil in the water, then climbing in and settling back with a sigh*

Scribe: "Wow!" *grabs box of Pop Tarts and rips into them* "I need sugar to concentrate on this properly."

*TW whips out notebook and starts scribbling, looking back and forth busily*

Strife: *chin is resting on his chest* "That's our bathroom!" *mouth snaps shut* "That's Cupe!"

Scribe: "Hey, Strife, I don't see any tan lines. Hubba hubba!"

Strife: *jumps up* *screams* "Everybody's lookin at my nookie!"

*Flash!*

*TW and Scribe exchange looks*

TW: "Somehow I think he didn't know about that particular hidden camera."

*On screen, Strife appears in a shower of red sparks.* *Cupid looks up, grins, and pats the water*

Cupid: "Hey, babe! How about some good, clean fun?"

Strife: "Stand up!"

Scribe: "Yeah! Yeah! Stand up!" *starts punching buttons on the remote* "Record, damn you! Record! I don't care if I lose an episode of Buffy! They never let Xander get nekkid anyway."

Cupid: *stands up, looking around in confusion* "That sounded like Scribe."

Strife: "Long story." *he throws a big towel around Cupid and...*

*Flash!*

*Strife and a dripping wet, barely covered Cupid appear in the living room*

Strife: "I gotta energy trace off that damn camera! Psycho bitch is tha one who placed it! You gals tune in when I catch up ta her an' you'll see somethin that makes WWF Smackdown look like a pattycake match!"

*The front door opens and Scribe's Mom comes in. She looks at the two men. Strife grins at her and crooks his finger.* *Mom eyes the black leather.*

Mom: "Um... visitors, dear?"

Scribe: "Uh... door to door missionaries."

*Cupid is trying to tie the towel securely about his waist. Mom stares at the wings, eyes wide*

Mom: "Is this some sort of new religion?"

Cupid: "Actually, it's a very ancient one. You see..."

Mom: *quickly* "I have bible study tonight, dear, and I won't be back till late. Bye." *she runs*

*Good thing. Just as the door slams...*

*Flash!*

*Jayce and Jett appear. Jayce is pouting, and Jett is still 'madeover'. He looks seriously pissed.*

Strife: "How tha hell did you two get here?"

Jett: "Well, Jayce and I have both had a really bad day, and we showed up at Ares's place at the same time to gripe to him and Joxer."

Jayce: "An' we hwalked in on apparently a wery passionate moment." *Jayce, puts a hand on his hips* "Chu know, I didn't think Yoxer knew those sort of words."

Jett: "Anyway, Ares sent us here. He said if anyone could put us in a better mood it would be you girls."

*Scribe and TW exchange delighted looks.*

Cupid: "Cool! I've been thinking..." *He loops an arm aroud TW. Strife does the same from the other side. TW starts to hyperventilate* "maybe you could use some, like, practical demonstrations for you next smut scene between Strife and me." *Cupid grins*

Strife: *TW's knees give out, and Strife catches her* "Oo, she's nice an' flexible!" *Cupid and Strife start leading TW toward the back of the house*

Scribe: *yells* "You make damn sure you change the sheets when you're done!" *Scribe looks up to see Jett and Jayce approaching from opposite sides* "Whoops!" *she dashes away*

Jayce: *puzzled* "What is THAT all about? I thought..."

Jett: *grinning evilly* "You never read the Proverbs series, didya? C'mon, bro! She's headed back into the house!"

*Jett and Jayce dash off after her*

*The livingroom is now empty*

*pull back to a marble room, with the living room showing on a big screen tv.*

*Eris and Apollo are sitting on a sofa, swilling wine and eating various Greecian snacks*

Apollo: "Oh, that is so bogus! If I wanted to watch 'fade to black' sex I'd be watchin' daytime soap operas."

Eris: "I say we gatecrash."

*They grin at each other*

*gold and red sparkles*

*On the screen we see Snicky the Cat enter the living room. He jumps up on the couch and steps on the remote.*

Narrator: "Welcome to Animal Planet..."

*Snicky settles down and begins to lick the last of the cheese off the nacho plate as giggles and squeals float from offscreen...*