[Diamond18]

The spotlights hit Diamond like the headlights of a three ton eighteen wheeler barreling down the highway in the wrong lane, and she gasped involuntarily as the light from her necklaces bounced up into her eyes. Painfully. A torrent of emotions hit her like a ton of cement blocks and a smidgen of cinnamon (for flavor). An award, for me? she thought, blushing.

When Squatter had taken the stage with such undeniably confident and manly grace, she had not so much as suspected that the reason was for her Own ‘Umble Heepness. (Furthermore, she doubted that many would catch the David Copperfield reference without help, so she provided it, thusly.) But, when the phrase “steaming trough of pigswill” was uttered, there could be no doubt in her mind that this had something to do with her guilty person.

She stood, squinting her eyes in the magnificently maleficent lights, not sure whether she should feel like a movie star, or a prison escapee caught by floodlights. In either case, she made her way up to the stage and graciously accepted the award from Squatter. She gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek. This was, of course, a completely pure and ladylike kiss—sisterly in nature, so as not to inspire the absent but all knowing Lush to a frenzy of jealous rage. People on magic carpet rides are not to be trifled with. Diamond noted that a strong odor of java and juice clung to Squatter, but hey, what’s a little reeking among friends?

She turned to the audience and held aloft her Golden Tomb of Doom. “I’d like to thank the Wraithadamy,” she said. “And also, Estelyn Telcontar, for making this possible by not taking ‘no’ for an answer; Rimbaud, whose puns inspired me to badness; Squatter, for his endless, um, dubious flattery and lovely presentation speech; Lush, for noticing my innuendo when I didn’t; Bêthberry, for her awesome alliteration, which also inspired my aspirations; Everyone else who graced the Revenge of the Entish Bow with their writing or readership; and Daffy Duck, just because.”

She paused and took a deep breath. “And lastly, but certainly not least, I’d like to thank Vogonwë Brownbark for being so tremendously awful and prolific. Voggy, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

On cue (not to mention that his status as a character made him subject to the beck and call of his mistress) Vogonwë bounded up onto the stage, doing a backward inverted pas de chat over the stair railing. He stopped before Diamond and adjusted his hairbow, gushing, “Thank you, thank you! It is true, I thank you! I thank you for being true!”

“Um…” Diamond got a dreadful sense of déjà vu, and began to feel a little faint. Vogonwë continued:

“I’d like to thank my father for teaching me how to rhyme. I’d like to thank Earnur Etceteron for being my biggest fan: the man was truly a connoisseur of fine Workmudian poetry, in a way that not even the Elves of Workmud were, themselves. I think, a poem is in—”

He was unceremoniously cut off by Diamond, who utilized her award as a silencer, clobbering him over the head with the blunt end of the Downie. He crumpled (gracefully) to the floor, an expression of utter inanity gracing his finely wrought half-Elven features.

Diamond blew kisses to the crowd, and bowed before returning to her seat.

[ May 08, 2003: Message edited by: Diamond18 ]