[Doesitreallymatter?] Too Much To Ask

                           Too Much To Ask



     "Greg?" Sly Fox called as she climbed up to the deck overlooking
the in-ground pool.  She and the other girls had been looking for
their 'leader' ever since dinner.  Most had noticed the old weasel
wasn't his usual jovial self and were worried about him.  His
disappearance soon after dessert set off the group search.  Sly,
getting the back yard and pool area, was the first to strike pay-dirt.
     Reaching the top of the stairs, she noticed a familiar figure in
one of the lounge chairs, staring at the stars overhead.
     "There you are," she said lightly as she stepped onto the deck
and adjusted her skin-tight jogging shorts.  "Kissy and Big Boobs were
getting worried."
     Greg made no move as Sly slowly ambled over to stand next to him. 
A quick look confirmed her suspicions.
     "You alright?" she softly asked with a kawaii tilt of her head,
her long braids swinging free almost in front of the reclining Greg.
     Greg's only answer was a deep sigh as he continued to stare at
the stars, his face neutral.
     Sly Fox knelt down next to her bunker-mate's side and gently
placed a hand on his arm.  She could tell he was troubled, her lawyer
training told her that much.  She also got the feeling it was about
something she had no control over.
     "Wanna talk?"
     Greg gently set his after dinner drink aside and looked
questioningly at his 'personal' attorney.  She was by far the most
beautiful and intelligent of her 'sisters'.  He always felt most
comfortable talking to her.
     "I donno, Sly," he started as he turned back to see one of his
dogs taking a dip in the pool.  "Sometimes I just get so depressed."
     "It's about that 'otaku-fic' thing again, isn't it?"  Like she
always did, she was able to cut to the point without sounding
intrusive.
     "I guess so.  It's just... I can take the slings and arrows of my
critics.  I'm used to that.  But when my friends start in on me..." 
He sighed again and crossed his arms like he was suddenly chilled. 
"Maybe it's time to..."
     "Hey, I'm sure they didn't mean anything by it.  You know how
people are."  Sly shifted to a cross-legged sitting position and
leaned back on her hands.  "They weren't being nasty, Greg.  Didn't
Ernie tell you how to handle these things?"
     Greg chuckled at the reference to Dr. Wiseman.  Ernie had worked
long and hard to get Greg to understand how to separate the important
things that required attention from the trivia that should be ignored. 
'Consider the source' he always said.
     "I can take being ignored, Sly."  Greg shifted his position
slightly.  "Taleswapper hasn't said 'boo' about my stories - having
'black-listed' me long ago.  Caroline has openly admitted she doesn't
read 'em."
     "So what's the problem?"
     "It's my friends, or at least the folks I *do* respect."
     "I don't understand."
     "Well, Thom (White Wolf) still has my series listed in his Fanfic
Guide as a 'Author self-insertion' story when I've sent both him and
his co-maintainer E-mail after E-mail begging them to change it.  I
even sent an alternate version to help them out.  All they had to do
was type in what I'd sent them."
     "Hey, he hasn't done anything with that 'guide' since the first
of the year."  Sly shot Greg a skeptical look.  "He's a busy guy.  Cut
him some slack."
     "I know."  Greg ran a hand through his hair and watched as his
dog crawled out of the pool and shook herself dry.  "It's just I can't
get people to understand that I created Jeff Lawrence solely to draw
into sharp relief Nabiki Tendo's character and provide a vehicle for
her transition into adulthood.  I needed a character totally
different from any of the existing cast - one that could act as a
catalyst for Nabiki's becoming an adult - because none of the others
could do the job without taking them totally out of character.  I
never intended him to be mistaken for me."
     "Look, George Lucas wrote Luke Skywalker as *his* self-insertion
character and nobody complained."
     "That's different.  He made a ton of money doing that.  In
America, one's principles are always directly tied to how much money
is involved.  Lucas made a fortune so no one complains.  I don't get a
red cent for my stuff and I get dumped on."
     "Well, you can't argue with success."
     "Sure you can.  With the two E-mails I got over the weekend from
the kids in Chiba, I'm up to 127 different folks who've written me
about my series."
     "There, you see?  You *are* a success.  To get a tenth of that
from anywhere would be a success."
     "But you don't understand.  Even with such documented success,
I'm still faced with those who hide their childish possessiveness
about the characters behind a hodge-podge of five dollar words that
make them sound like they're taking their stand on pure principle
alone.  What's worse, these people are nothing but bigots masquerading
as intellectually thoughtful people."
     "Greg, dear, don't get all worked up over this again."
     "And the worst part is when other writers write in kids for the
Takahashi characters, thereby creating 'annoying new characters'
themselves, no one accuses *them* of writing themselves into the
story.  I guess slanty eyes and the right skin color makes all the
difference.  Bigots!"
     "Greg!  Ernie told you not to do this to yourself.  Ignore them! 
They're no better than you, even if they *do* think of themselves that
way."
     "I'm sorry.  It's just so frustrating, especially when my friends
start making jokes about it."  Greg scowled at his lap.  "Probably got
a big laugh too."
     Both fell silent as Greg's dog dove in again, this time splashing
his daughter's cat.
     "So what are you going to do?"
     "I've got nine more chapters plotted out."  Greg paused and took
a deep breath before continuing.  "No, maybe I'll just end it with
Chapter 10."
     "No," Sly protested.  She of all the Foxes really liked the
series.  Secretly, she identified with Nabiki; being suddenly rich,
different from the others, and always 'looking for an angle'.  "I
wanted to see Sodoshi grow up.  You used to talk for hours about all
the plots possible with Sodoshi being raised in the West and having to
cope with Japanese ways whenever she went back to Nerima.  Just the
training sessions between her and Master Sato, alone, were real 
knee-slappers."
     "Heh, Sodoshi's probably too 'Western' to be acceptable to some
people," Greg snorted with distain.
     "I wanted to see how the story turns out," Sly pouted.
     Greg reached over and gently stroked Sly's cheek.
     "Well, maybe I'll just write them for you, me and old Ernie."  He
smiled sadly and sighed again.
     "Why not just write them and post the results on your web site? 
That way only the people who really want to read them could still have
access."  Sly had a way of sounding like an excited little girl
whenever she had a really good idea.  It was one of the things that
Greg liked best about her.
     Greg turned away again to watch his dog chase his daughter's cat
around the pool.  Sly took advantage of the moment to slip her warm
little hand in his.
     "You know, if everyone knew the part of 'New Horizons' you really
*did* write yourself into..."
     "Yeah, it's really obvious when you think about it."  Greg
chuckled at how he'd fooled everyone.  "Who'd ever suspect I'm really
Inspector Abe?"
     "It's obvious, isn't it?  Middle aged, pipe smoking, grown kids,
hanging out with folks younger than yourself, and a mind for a good
conspiracy."  Sly looked pleased with herself.  "I'm surprised no
one caught on."
     Greg just snorted and shook his head.  He knew the fine art of
misdirection.  While everyone concentrates on trying to pin Jeff
Lawrence on him, he writes himself as an entirely different character. 
Think Pat Morita in an Anime story.
     Both watched as the dog caught up with the cat and the pair
tumbled into the pool.  Greg sighed again.  He'd have to clean the
filter in the morning.  Pools are such a bother.
     "So, you gonna do it?" Sly asked with a cock of her head.
     "I donno, maybe.  Between all the 'spam' and that asshole Tybalt,
the FFML really isn't much fun anymore."
     Sly just nodded her agreement.  She'd been surfing through Greg's
E-mail from the list lately and couldn't help but notice how little
fun everyone was having.  It sure wasn't like the old days.  She just
thought it must be the price of success.
     "Yeah, no more posting 'New Horizons' to the FFML."  Greg took
another drink.  "I'll just leave a notice that the latest is out on my
web site."
     "It'll sure make that goof down in Australia happy that you're
not posting your 200K stories anymore," Sly chuckled as she played
with one of her braids.
     "At least I won't be annoying folks who don't want to read it." 
Greg sighed again.  "Well, it looks like the bigots won another one." 
     "You've still got your regulars. *They* enjoy the series."
     "I suppose."  Greg pulled an ice cube out of his drink and
flicked it at the dog.  "I just never thought I would be put in the
same category as Jack Ji or the guy who wrote the 'Crys Saga'."
     "I'm sure it's not that bad."
     "Doesn't really matter.  I'm just tired of all this."
     Sly shifted her position so she was hugging her long, shapely
legs and let the sounds of crickets and the hum of the pool filter
dominate while she tried to think of some other way to cheer Greg up.
     "I'm not really sure I even want to go to AnimeIowa now," Greg
thought out loud between sips of his drink.  "Why bother?"
     "Hey, you promised."  Sly sounded shocked her bunker-mate would
suggest abandonment of their little 'vacation'.  "You promised we'd
get to hang around the pool with our tops off."
     "Sly, honey, we're talking Iowa here.  They still get kinda up
tight when twelve beautiful women start lounging around a hotel pool
topless."  Greg patted Sly on her head.  "Kinda like the ultra-Christians 
next door.  You remember the last 'skinny-dipping' party we had?"
     "Yeah, they called the cops on us," Sly lamented with a sly grin. 
"Good thing the officers liked 'skinny-dipping'."
     Greg chuckled again as he remembered the three officers, wearing
only their equipment belts, doing cannon balls into the deep end as
they tried to splash the girls along the side.
     Greg's attention was suddenly diverted by the sight of his
daughter's cat running out the length of the diving board, taking a
flying leap and landing on top of the dog who was dog-paddling
frantically for the side of the pool.
     "Still, I really don't have the funds for such a trip."  Greg
sighed again.  "Maybe it was a mistake to try in the first place."
     "Nonsense," Sly shot back, her hands on her shapely hips.  "You
haven't been on a real vacation in over 10 years.  You deserve this."
     "But the money..."
     "Will be taken care of.  Stop worrying."  Sly reached out and
caressed Greg's bare leg.  Greg couldn't help but notice her hand
lingered there a little longer than he thought necessary.
     "Sly, my sweet, you really should have worn more than just your
shorts to come out here."
     "Why?"
     "Because I think I just heard the Christians next door dial 911
again."
     Sly shook her head and wrapped the towel around her shapely body.
     "I'll get the pets out of the pool," she sighed.  "Looks like
another late night with the local constabulary."