Amand-r, please delete that last one. I actually tested this version. Me and my desire to use HTML...
If anyone can to explain to me why my muse had to go and make me write in a style like this for the only absolutely visual Wheel ever, I'd gladly like to hear it. Anyway, if I did this right you should be able to pick out when in the story the picture happens. You should also be able to figure out loosely what's going on, as well as who's involved.
As always, the characters are not my own, with the possible exception of the sheep. Assorted people who's names I can never remember or spell own these people, and much as I wish to I can only borrow, not claim them. The original story Goldilocks is also not my fault, but everything else, including bad jokes, possible dubious characterization, any typos or mistakes, abuse of sheep (not in that way!), a weird style, and a ruined shirt are all my fault. And so is the screaming girl.
This happened because, in my head, I heard a line. After the story, I'll tell you the line.
The Tale of Goldilocks and the Three Scots
There was a moment of almost pained, frigid silence before one voice spoke.
"Well, you asked for it."
Immediately another voice protested, "I di'not."
A third voice chuckled quietly from beside the second. "Oh yes you did, Duncan. But did you have to involve me in it?"
The opening syllable of a further protest was cut off by a fourth voice, across from the second and third speakers but beside the first. "Regardless of who's to blame, shall I tell this tale or not?"
The first voice spoke up, almost gleefully. "There is no way I'm letting any of you go tonight without hearing this."
"Richie...." the second voice growled.
"Oh, leave it alone, Mac. After all, you did ask for it," came a fifth voice, on the other side of the fourth speaker than the first.
"I di-"
"Goldilocks," the fourth voice broke in, "and the three Scots."
"Three?" asked the fifth voice. "I only see two."
"Well it doesn't bloody well matter that there are only two. Don't you have any respect for tradition?"
The first voice answered the fourth in mock surprise. "Tradition? I thought this was about humiliation."
"That too," the second voice said morosely.
The third voice merely chuckled again.
"Getting back to the story," the fourth voice said smoothly, "Once upon a time on the shores of Loch-something-or-other-"
"You're not even trying to make it good!" the second voice protested.
"Duncan, are you going to let me tell this or not?" the storyteller said exasperatedly.
"I'd rather not."
"Uhuh," said the fifth voice. "By now I want to hear this one, too."
"You're outvoted, Mac," the first voice said gleefully.
"Thanks a lot for your support, Connor," the second voice said glumly.
"Sorry, kinsman," the third voice replied, although he didn't sound it.
"Trying this again.... for the third time," the fourth voice said, "Once upon a time on the shores of Loch-something-or-other, there lived three Scotsmen. There was an elder Scotsman, a younger Scotsman, and one who was not really a Scotsman at all, but shall be considered so for the purposes of this tale. "
"Is this Goldilocks or Monty Python?" the fifth voice inquired.
"Okay, that's it," the fourth voice said, and the sound of a chair being shoved back was heard.
"Oh sit down, Methos," the second voice said with a sigh. "You've already begun so you might as well finish."
There was another moment of silence. "All right," the fourth voice finally said, "but another interruption and I'm through."
"Just sit down and tell the story!" several voices said in unison.
There was a pause before the sound of the fourth speaker sitting came. He resumed speaking almost immediately. "The three Scots, or two and one-half Scots if you insist on being technical, lived together happily for many years, raising sheep and eating haggis and that sort of thing."
He paused for a long moment. Then, "What, no interruption about that being an unfair generalization?"
"Just finish the damned story," the third voice growled.
"All right, all right. One day, after preparing an extra special meal of Haggis, the three Scots discovered they had failed to take proper cooling times into account, and their stuffed sheep's stomach was too hot to eat. They all resolved to take a walk and wait for it to cool.
Now, while they were out walking, a wandering lass, fair of hair and skin, chanced upon their dwelling. She had been lost in the highlands for several days, else she might have run screaming, but she was so starving that upon entering she dared to try the haggis.
First she tried the Elder Scot's haggis, but she found it too spicy. Then she tried the younger Scot's haggis, but she found it to haggis-y. At last she tried the Not-Really-A-Scot's haggis, and since he was not really a Scot it wasn't very haggis-y at all, and she was able to force it down."
"Now that is insulting," said the fifth voice, almost admiringly.
"Thank you, Joe. It's nice to have someone who truly appreciates my work," the fourth voice replied.
"Why does he get to interrupt and I don't?" queried the second voice, a little plaintively.
"Because he's on my side," the fourth voice answered smugly. "Continuing our little tale.... Having managed to down this disgusting but at least nourishing food, the lost young woman began to grow sleepy. Perhaps it was the long and difficult days she had been lost, but more likely it was the sheer effort her system had to expend to process the loathsome Scottish food-"
"That is going to far. Cut it out, Methos," The third speaker said tersely. There was a moment of silence. "And the cute innocent look is not going to work on me this time, old man."
There was a heavy sigh, and then a muffled yell. "All right, all right!" yelped the fourth voice. "I'll behave. But whenever I figured out who kicked me...."
"Yeah, yeah," interrupted the fifth voice. "We know. Just keep on talking."
"Where was I, now? Oh yes. Whatever the cause, the lady found herself giving into exhaustion. She went upstairs and found the beds. Trying the elder Scot's bed, she found it too itchy - wool makes good kilts but bad blankets. The younger Scot's bed was more comfortable, but she kept slipping around on the satin sheets-"
"Those are Amanda's!" protested the second voice.
There was a pause. Then the third voice asked, amusement edging his voice, "When is she going to be in town again?"
"Continuing...." the fourth voice said, loudly over the snickers, "Eventually, exhausted and slightly queasy, she found the Not-technically-a-Scot's bed, and as it was the most sensible of the three, passed out upon it.
Now, having only gotten lost once when they had to detour around some sheep, the two point five Scots finally got home to eat their now-hopefully chilled haggis. Upon entering their house, however, the Older Scot and the Younger Scot instinctively drew their swords, sensing the presence of an intruder. After a display of-"
"Cutting it a little close to the bone there, Adam," broke in the fifth voice.
"Aw, c'mon, Joe...."
"C'mon nothin'. If either of these two behead you at this table I'm going to end up in real bad shape with both the police and the Watchers."
"He's got a point, man," the first voice said, a little disappointedly.
The silence from the other two spoke volumes. Eventually the fourth speaker coughed slightly uncomfortably and continued on.
"While the two others were investigating what had disturbed their instincts, the younger man, being much less sensible and a great deal more hungry, went into the dining room. His startled yell brought the other two racing in with drawn swords, to behold the scene before them.
The younger Scot summed it up with a single statement. 'Someone's been eating my haggis!' he yelped.
'Someone's been eating my haggis,' the older Scot growled.
'Hey, guys,' the young not-a-Scot said, 'someone's been eating my haggis too. And they the whole thing!' After a second of thought, however, he realized this might not be a bad thing and left to make himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich."
"Good for the not-a-Scot," said the first voice.
"You do know who that's based on?" the fifth asked, somewhat cautiously.
"Of course. Why do you think I'm rooting for him?"
"Richie," the fourth voice said with a sort of brittle patience, "would you please shut up? And don't salute me with your glass like that. It's annoying."
"Unless you're doing it, of course," muttered the second speaker.
"Duncan, I remind you that this story is not done, and I can make it a lot worse," the fourth person said smugly. "So feel free to glare menacingly at me like Connor, but keep your mouth shut."
There was a moment of silence before the storyteller continued. "The two Scots left their not-a-Scot friend in the kitchen, happily eating the non-haggis food, and cautiously crept upstairs, weapons drawn. After a long, tense sequence during which ominous music probably would have played had this been a movie, they discovered both of their bedrooms to be empty, although somewhat mussed. They speculated together briefly that someone might have been looking for something, although why they would only look in a bed neither of them could guess.
At long last, moving even more cautiously then before, they carefully opened the door to Richie's room. And since they had been living alone in the Highlander for so long without so much as the sight of a pretty lady, they instantly both fell in love with her, despite the fact that she was snoring slightly and her hair, by that point, was something of a mess."
"And if you didn't see that coming, you're either dead or really drunk," the first voice said almost gleefully.
"Right now I'd be happy to be either," muttered the third speaker, so quietly almost no one heard him, especially over the sudden splash and yelp from across the table.
"Hey! This is a new shirt!" the first voice yelled.
"Not anymore," the fourth voice said in tone of evil amusement. "I told you to shut up." There was a pause when the slight snickering of the fifth person could be heard, and then the fourth continued his story.
"The Older Scot immediately turned to the younger and said 'I saw her first.'
'You di'not!' the younger protested. 'I opened the door, I saw her first!'
'It's my house,' the older Scot replied.
'On my land!' the younger Scot countered.
This went on for some time, getting louder and louder. It woke the girl up, it brought the not-a-Scot from downstairs, holding a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and it scared the sheep. The not-a-Scot eventually concluded it was nothing to worry about and wandered away to see if he could find some soda. The girl, on the other hand, waking up in a strange place by men who were arguing over who-knows-what with drawn swords, was terrified to the point she froze in bed, watching with wide eyes.
After a time the two Scots became aware of her attention and faltered in their argument, stopping and staring at her as she stared at them. After a long moment of extremely awkward silence, the younger Scot cautiously stepped forward.
'Hello,' he said, smiling winningly.
The girl, however, being terrified out of her mind to begin with, saw a dark main with a frightening grin, approaching her with a sword held in his hand. She did the only thing she could think of, which was to scream, leap from the bed, and jump out the window.
Fortunately for her, she landed on a sheep. The sheep, however, was never quite the same again.
She continued her flight, screaming, into the highlands, and was never seen again. Some say her ghost still races across the highland moors, screaming, pursued by vengeful sheep. The three Scots, though, lived generally happily ever after, after they moved off of the Highlands to a nice city area where the women were more plentiful and the haggis less. There was only one problem involving some sheep, but that is a story for another time."
As the speaker concluded, the first voice cheered and whistled loudly, as did a fifth. After a second a smattering of polite applause sounded from the third speaker, while the second muttered "Very funny."
"Aww, c'mon Mac, what's not to like?" asked the first voice positively.
"This from a man who's wearing most of his drink?"
"Of course, you know what the real question is," the fifth voice interrupted, an exaggerated musing in his voice.
There was a pause before, somewhat suspiciously, the third speaker asked, "What?"
"How much of it is true?"
There was a much different silence for a heartbeat before the first and fourth speaker burst out laughing. The fifth joined them barely a heartbeat later, and then, after a moment, the third.
"I hate you all," the second voice said, but before much longer, he was laughing as well.
*** Finis ***
And the line that started it all...
"Someone's been eating my haggis!"
~ Milkshake Butterfly ~