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Old 04-19-2005, 01:57 PM   #253
Fair and Cold
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Leninia realized that something was wrong when she closed her eyes, opened them again, and realized she was standing in the middle of a desert. Predictably, the first thought that popped into her head was: "Did I take the wrong turn to Säks?"

Her confusion was doubled when she saw a figure on the horizon, a figure that eventually took the familiar shape of her late, great husband, John Lemmon.

"I hate to break this to you, John," she said irritably, "but you're dead."

"How do you know it's not the other way around?" He asked.

"Don't contradict me!" Leninia snarled as she used to during the good old days. The snarling, however, did not make the desired effect. John smiled.

"You're in quite the predicament, Linnie-poo," he said good-naturedly. "Your friends have abandoned you in the middle of the desert and you're going to shrivel up and die of dehydration."

"So?" Leninia sneered. "What do you care?"

"I'm here to offer you a way out," John smiled mysteriously.

"Since when do you have all the answers?" Leninia grumbled. The heat, however, was beginning to get to her; she sat down on the ground and tried to open up her back umbrella to get some shade. The umbrella was stuck, and the usually friendly poodle-head that adorned the handle let out a snarl.

"Great," Leninia snapped.

"It's your friends," John offered, with a look of tender concern in his eyes.

"What about them?"

"They broke your umbrella and left you here to die," he said, as sympathetically as possible.

"Did not."

"Did too."

A vulture landed a few feet away and let out an unpleasant sound. If vultures can ever be pleasant, that is. Leninia considered her options.

"Ok, John, what do you want?" She finally asked when she noticed the vulture eyeing her with a gleam with its eye that momentarily reminded her of Pimpi alone in a room with a large, juicy steak.

"It's not about what I want, dear, it's about what you want," he patted her arm gently. "And what you want is to turn those two rocks over there into a nice vat of Pėrriėr and a huge tub of Esty Louder facial cream."

"I do?" Leninia asked.

"Well, how else are you going to survive out here without water and moisturizer? Prove to me that you are Leninia the Tiny and Terrible! The way you were before, before you launched on this ridiculous quest that is."

"What's the catch?"

"Oh, just a little bit of fine print my dear."

Leninia knew all about fine print. Fine print didn't scare her; she practically invented it, in her past life. But she was beginning to feel suspicious. Something wasn't right. And it wasn't just the fact that she was in the middle of a desert, talking to her dead husband, while a fat vulture eavesdropped.

"Like what?" She persisted.

"Oh you know...Prove that you are Leninia the Tiny and Terrible by using your dark arts to save yourself from this intolerable heat and, while you're at it, renounceyourfriendsandalltheirdeedsandneverseethem again," he finished off.

"You forgot that I have great ears, dear," Leninia snapped. "Please bugger off and stop telling me what to do. I'll find my own way out of this ugly, barren place (you'd think they'd hire a decorator)."

Leninia wandered through the desert, the vulture close behind. The vulture was rather obese, and she took comfort in knowing she was helping it aid those few extra pounds.

Finally, in the distance, she saw a diving board, poking out toward the cloudless climbs. A pool! She thought, with much excitement. Water! Maybe even a poolboy!. The idea of drinking chlorine didn't much bother her; it would do nicely mixed with the stuff she kept in her trusty hip flask.

The pool, however, proved to be quite empty and deserted. And kidney-shaped, SO unfashionable! Leninian thought in disdain.

She climbed up to the diving board, hoping to look out across the desert and spy civilization; a mall, or even a small boutique would do. Instead, she ran into John, rocking himself on the board with a grin on his face.

"This is beginning to creep me out," she snapped. "You keep appearing out of nowhere. Stay dead, please, you are much more agreeable that way."

"I'll let you in on a little secret, Linnie-poo," John said. "If you jump off this board, right now, you will land in deliciously cool, clean water, and a boy in a towel will be waiting for you at the edge, with a pitcher of lemonade and massage oil."

"If I jump off this board right now I'll smash my head!" Leninia screeched.

"No, Linnie, no. You have to believe. Believe in yourself, in us, and inthefactthatyourfriendsareabunchoflosersanywayand itwouldbeeasytoforgetthemandlivehappilyeverafter."

"That trick doesn't work on me, John!" Leninia snapped.

"Ok, fine, Linnie," John sighed. "But why won't you look out?" He pointed towards the horizon. Leninia felt a rush of happiness; a great, gleaming city towered in the distance.

"Imagine, Linnie, all of that could be ours. You can do society lunches, have your hair done by Freederick Fekkie, ride a great metallic beast called a Bėntley and it will come in all of your favourite colours too...Justgiveupthisstupidquestandyourstupidbuddie sandcomewithme!!!"

"Not for all the silicōn in Californium," Leninia sighed. "And anyway. I figured out what's wrong with this picture. You're not my husband. My husband would never let me pick the colour of the Bėntley. We may have had a dysfunctional marriage, but I always let him pick his favourite colour; because...because...I was not as horrible of a wife that the tabloids made me out to be," she finished, her scarlet lips trembling.

John Lemmon went *poof* Or rather, he went *pooooof* as he got more transparent by the moment, until all that was left of him were the fingers of his right hand, flashing the peace sign. The vulture marveled at the peace sign, but Leninia just shrugged her tiny shoulders and climbed down. The vulture followed.

Leninia tried to kick it, it was beginning to get on her already damaged nerves. But as she attempted this, her feet slid out from underneath her, and she came crashing down hard onto her pretty head, her last thought being:

Did I break my heel?

Last edited by Lush; 05-02-2005 at 09:05 PM.
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