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click the little add button ----------------------------------It all started when our power player, Nic, woke up in a disease-infested jungle (AKA London). It was the first time it had happened. Feeling ridiculously angered, Nic slapped a wolverine, thinking it would make her feel better (but as usual, it did not). Ever so extemporaneously, she realised that her beloved toast was missing! Immediately she called her enemy in training, Fallon. Nic had known Fallon for (plus or minus) half a million years, the majority of which were enchanting ones. Fallon was unique. He was smart though sometimes a little... insensitive. Nic called him anyway, for the situation was urgent. Fallon picked up to a very calm Nic. Fallon calmly assured her that most 3-legged wallabies belch before mating, yet 3-legged wallabies usually explosively yawn *after* mating. He had no idea what that meant; he was only concerned with distracting Nic. Why was Fallon trying to distract Nic? Because he had snuck out from Nic's with the toast only ten days prior. It was an eccentric little toast... how could he resist? It didn't take long before Nic got back to the subject at hand: her toast. Fallon cringed. Reluctantly, Fallon invited her over, assuring her they'd find the beard. Nic grabbed her giraffe and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Fallon realized that he was in trouble. He had to find a place to hide the toast and he had to do it aptly. He figured that if Nic took the time machine, he had take at least ten minutes before Nic would get there. But if she took the Hummer? Then Fallon would be barely screwed. Before he could come up with any reasonable ideas, Fallon was interrupted by eleven clueless weasels that were lured by his toast. Fallon yawned; 'Not again', he thought. Feeling frustrated, he aggressively reached for his dangerous oil-soaked rag and recklessly hit every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the foxy forest, squealing with discontent. He exhaled with relief. That's when he heard the Hummer rolling up. It was Nic. ----o0o---- As she pulled up, she felt a sense of urgency. She had had to make an unscheduled stop at Wal-Mart to pick up a 12-pack of wolverines, so she knew she was running late. With a mighty leap, Nic was out of the Hummer and went charismatically jaunting toward Fallon's front door. Meanwhile inside, Fallon was panicking. Not thinking, he tossed the toast into a box of gerbils and then slid the box behind his George Foreman grill. Fallon was frustrated but at least the toast was concealed. The doorbell rang. 'Come in,' Fallon flamboyantly purred. With a skillful push, Nic opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some funny-smelling beer-sloshed tool in a curb-jumping ghetto sled (Impala),' she lied. 'It's fine,' Fallon assured her. Nic took a seat mysteriously distant from where Fallon had hidden the beard. Fallon shuddered trying unsuccessfully to hide his nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' he blurted. But Nic was distracted. Suddenly inspired by the wise teachings of Confuscious, Fallon noticed an oafish look on Nic's face. Nic slowly opened her mouth to speak. '...What's that smell?' Fallon felt a stabbing pain in his love handle when Nic asked this. In a moment of disbelief, he realized that he had hidden the toast right by his oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A funny-smelling look started to form on Nic's face. She turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's potatoes from when she used to have pet South American hissing sloths. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Nic nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Fallon could react, Nic deftly lunged toward the box and opened it. The toast was plainly in view. Nic stared at Fallon for what must've been eight hours. Heart filled with earnest fortitude, Fallon groped scandalously in Nic's direction, clearly desperate. Nic grabbed the toast and bolted for the door. It was locked. Fallon let out a curious chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Nic,' he rebuked. Fallon always had been a little insensitive, so Nic knew that reconciliation was not an option; she needed to escape before Fallon did something crazy, like... start chucking potatoes at him or something. Giggling like schoolgirl, she gripped her toast tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels. Fallon looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Nic. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame two days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly he felt a tinge of concern for Nic. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Fallon walked over to the window and looked down. Nic was gone. ----o0o---- Just yonder, Nic was struggling to make her way through the swamp behind Fallon's place. Nic had severely hurt her armpit during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral weasels suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the toast. One by one they latched on to Nic. Already weakened from her injury, Nic yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing she saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of weasels running off with her toast. But then God came down with His congenial smile and restored Nic's toast. Feeling concerned, God smote the weasels for their injustice. Then He got in His spaceship and sped away with the fortitude of 1.2 billion Indonesian devil cats running from an oversized pack of disease-carrying chipmunks. Nic stumbled with joy when she saw this. Her toast was safe. It was a good thing, too, because in two minutes her favourite TV show was going to come on (followed immediately by 'When disease-carrying chipmunks meet unborn foetus'). Nic was excited. And so, everyone except Fallon and a few unborn foetus-toting Indonesian devil cats lived blissfully happy, forever after.***Written by Derek Clark***
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