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This message Dancer Romance Week Belated-Valentine Special Hologram Cover Edition with free condom enclosed was posted by HH has just received this to post from Dancer, along with a reminder that certain hemigods still owe her a chapter of Dancer/Donar, and the usual subtle hints for others to produce work. You know who you are. on Tuesday, February 19, 2002 at 11:08.
Dancer Romance Week Belated-Valentine Special Hologram Cover Edition with free condom enclosed
[The gritty Messenger-style pre-credits taster scene: It is the AMB (Avengers Message Board) annual awards, and Sean Connery is about to announce the Favourite Poster Who Isn’t Ian Watson category]
Sean, in that sexy Scottish burr: And now we’ll open the envelope and see who the winnerrr is.
Dancer, appearing on stage: Excuse me a minute. Mister Connery?
Sean: Yes, my dearrr?
Dancer: *smooches him*
Dancer: Hmmm. Pretty good for a ninety-three year old, Sean… but the quest continues. [Looks at shocked AMB audience staring onto stage.] Ah, er, sorry about the interruption folks. I’d best be going. Have a nice awards night. [Pauses to look at the opened envelope in Sean’s hands] Oh, and the winner of Favourite Poster Who Isn’t Ian Watson is, of course… Ian Watson!
[Cut to credits now. Probably something like one of those James Bond films, only with big hunky guys bouncing on trampolines through visual effects. Wonder if we can get Sean Bean, Brendan Fraser, Tim Dalton, and Colin Firth for this bit? Hmm… memo to self…]
[All the credits done? Right, then back to the story. You see, in Dancer # something, the Girls’ Night episode, Dancer got given this forfeit to find the Perfect Kiss. Now we’ll get up to date on how the quest is going.]
[The scene: Dancer, Ziles, and Sorceress are sat on Finny’s bed in the apartment he doesn’t know he shares with Ziles. Then again, ONE day he’s going to come home and find a nice surprise waiting for him under his duvet, isn’t he?]
[By the way, you don’t think I’m using too many square brackets in this story, do you?]
Dancer: So let’s see. I’ve done most of the major movie star studs, some top sporting guys who aren’t too repugnant, Prince William, Patrick Stewart, Ewan MacGregor, and that guy who does the underwear posters. It’s looking like I’m going to have to resort to time travel to get Errol Flynn, Bing Crosby, Yul Brynner, Freddie Mercury, and Humphrey Bogart. Are we sure they cremated Bogie?
Sorceress: Believe me, you DON’T want to go down the dating zombies route. They always turn up late, they go to pieces at any excuse, and you *never* eat the candy they bring you.
Ziles: Well who else is there? I mean, there must be a perfect kiss out there for you somewhere. What about the superhero community?
[Dancer, Sorceress, and Ziles burst out laughing.]
Dancer: Good one. But all the real prospects are attached.
Sorceress: And are going to stay that way, if their name is Jay and they want to stay… attached in other ways.
Ziles: There must be some good kissers in the spandex squad. I hear CSFB! has a six inch tongue.
Sorceress: And just WHO did you hear that from? No, tell me later. [Thinks about this then suggests innocently to Ziles] You know, Finny’s a shapechanger. He could arrange to have a six inch tongue…
Ziles: So back to Dancer’s quest…!
Dancer: I called Lisa for suggestions but she sent me three filing cabinets full of names, and I couldn’t understand the rating systems she used on the michofiche.
Sorceress: And those were the A-D filing cabinets.
Ziles: Well there must be someone worth you kissing. DBS?
Dancer: Too fast with his hands.
Ziles: Trickshot?
Dancer: Too fast with his weapon.
Ziles: thuddy?
Dancer: Already has a tapeworm down his throat.
Ziles: Space Ghost?
Dancer: Beer breath. Also, no pants.
Sorceress: Sounds like a Lisa date again.
Ziles: Nats?
[Everybody laughs once more. Ziles falls off the bed.]
Sorceress: Another good one.
Dancer: Actually, I think Nats could be the answer.
Ziles and Sorceress: Huh?
Dancer: Yes… I think we’d better give him a call…
[Later, in a seedy alley in a far-off multiverse…]
Nats: *Mutter mutter delivery boy mutter…*
Dancer: Thanks, Bill, you’re a sweetheart. I owe ITC a huge favour. Now hold still and look menacing. EEEEEEEEEKKKK!
Nats: Er, Dancer? What are you doing? Why are you…?
[There is a crunching noise as a man dressed as a bat lands on Nats and does unpleasant things to his spinal column]
The Batman: No criminal scum preys on the helpless in my Gotham.
Dancer: Bats! Excellent. Hold still, Bruce! *smooooooooooch!*
[Even later. Nats limps into an exclusive party in Cap D’Antibes and helps himself to some finger foods he can squish through his wired jaw.]
Nats: Ot are ee doing ow?
Dancer: Well, Bruce Wayne is pretty damn sexy, but he sort of reigns it all in on his war against evil, you know? So we’ll try bachelor number two. There he is, that guy with the briefcase. Oh, Tony! I hope your heart condition is up to this…
[Much, much later, since Tony Stark knows how to look after a trim, athletic, raven-haired stage-dancer who is also a trained masseuse…]
Nats (who is now using his telekinesis to keep his jaw attached): So why are we here now? We can get into real trouble time-travelling even in distant multiverses you know…
Dancer: Sorry, but I needed to catch this guy before he was all married and stuff. And pre-Crisis, when he was really the best at absolutely everything. [Approaches Daily Planet helpdesk.] Hi, I’m here to see Mr Clark Kent? My name? Er… Laura… Laura Lawson. I’ve got something I need to give him… :-)
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