A few weeks ago White Wolf sent out a challenge to
a few folks to submit some work for a project,
So I got oon with it and wrote this.
Well, as it turns out he had someting entirely
differnet in mind for his project, so all my
work is for naught, and "Yellow" was delayed
two weeks. Bugger. You could have said something
sooner WW. Oh well.
Enjoy.
_______________________________________________
[an Auto-Parody of a Palmer Ranma 1/2 Fan fiction]
Hot
By Joseph Palmer
The war ignited near the bridge of his nose.
A singular bead of sweat had prospered,
stretching and expanding its borders until it had
met another. The two pushed, tested and probed
each other, each seeking advantage, each straining
for dominance. Suddenly the truce enforced by
surface tension failed and armies of water and
salt molecules poured into each other, surging and
mixing. Then as suddenly as it began, it ended.
The armies were now united, the battle forgotten.
Ranma blinked his eyes.
The motion was only enough to cause the bead
to slip a tiny fraction of an inch, just enough to
cause the drop to encounter a new, isolated drop.
The borders touched, and a new battle was joined.
The result was the same as before, for in this war
there were no casualties, only courageous battles and
glorious victories. Again and again the war
surged, the lines advancing down his nose.
Soon a new enemy was there, an irresistible enemy,
an enemy from the outside; gravity. For the bead of
sweat, its very success became its literal downfall.
It quavered at the tip of his nose, clinging
valiantly and defiantly, then fell. In the air it
regrouped, smoothing the shattered battle lines,
withdrawing and reinforcing, minimizing its borders
into the perfect fighting sphere.
Ranma watched as it fell, he thought briefly of flicking
it with his finger as a martial arts exercise, but decided
instead to watch it fall, as he had with all the others.
The drop hit squarely in the middle of one of
the fir floorboards, some splattered nearby, but
in an instant the wood pulled the drop apart,
stretching and torturing it with it's grain. In
seconds the water was drawn into the wood, the
only memorial a tiny field of salt.
Ranma leaned back slowly, closing his eyes as they
passed through a ribbon of searing sunlight. He lay flat
upon the floor, waiting. Relief came as the fan finally
turned his direction. The fast moving air dried the sweat
that glistened from every pore, cooling and relaxing him. He
stretched, bathing in the luxury of the breeze.
He heard bare feet padding up the hall, and lazily
opened his eyes to see who was coming. Nabiki approached,
chopping up a bowl of shaved ice with a long spoon. She
carefully lifted a spoonful of the green tinted ice and put
it in her mouth. She sucked the spoon to draw the coolness
from it, closing her eyes in relief. When she opened them,
she noticed Ranma, and stopped. She was wearing her short
shorts, and a halter, which appeared to be woven from no
more cotton than is usualy found in a small Band Aid.
Ranma stared openly a moment. To call it a halter seemed
so out of place, since 'halt' neither described its apparent
function, nor was 'halt' any part of the message it screamed
in Ranma's male mind. Nabiki smiled innocently, and gently
pulled the spoon from her mouth, leaving her lips wet from
the ice. Slowly she hid both the spoon and the bowl behind
her back, perilously testing the halter. Hiding her treat,
she stepped over him and sank to her normal place at the
table.
She eyed Ranma warily, then placed her bowl close in
front of her, wrapping her arm around it protectively. She
took a spoonful and ate it, watching him the whole time.
Ranma sighed and looked outside. The top edge of the wall
shimmered in the heat. The pond looked refreshing, but the
water had become tepid and murky.
A second set of footsteps announced Akane's arrival. She
carried two bowels of ice, each sporting a long spoon at a
jaunty angle. She was dressed for the heat, in shorts and a
crop top. It must have been a bad crop this year, Ranma
thought, for the makers to have run out of cotton, leaving
Akane's bikini top tan line clearly visible below the billowy
edge of her top.
She stepped over him, untanned skin flashing, and sat at
the table. She held one of the bowls out to Ranma, he stared
past it as the fan found Akane and rippled the edge of her
top.
"C'mon Ranma, make up your mind. Do you want it, or don't
you?" Nabiki prompted from across the table.
Ranma blushed and shook his head in the affirmative, and
to clear it. He sat up and took the bowl of ice.
Akane took a spoonful of ice and munched it slowly.
"'Che, I can't believe this heat," she said. She rolled
her head then stretched, the fabric of the top lifting well
above her tan line. "So, what do you think, Ranma?"
The fan found Akane's top.
Border wars broke out all over Ranma.
"It's hot," he answered.
August 8, 1997
The characters and stories of Ranma 1/2 are Copyright
Rumiko Takahashi, and are used here without permission
or license. No claims to the above copyright are made
by the author of this work. This work is for non-commer-
cial use ONLY, and is produced for the enjoyment of fans
only. This work is the expression of the author and the
depiction of the Ranma 1/2 characters herein are in no
way represented to be a part of Ranma 1/2 as depicted
by the original author and copyright holder(s).
"Hot" 1997 Joseph Palmer
A few week back White Wolf sent out a message asking if
I might be interested in doing a parody of my own work. I thought about it while I took a lunchtime walk, and realized
that it might be pretty easy to do parity of my own stuff.
1. "Ninja no Himitsu" aside, the title should be one word.
2. It must be short. The truest parody would be a single
torturously long sentence.
3. Excruciatingly detailed descriptions of irrelevant events.
4. Twisted metaphors, like a raccoon with a hard hat.
5. Sporadic dialog of short utterances. In this case,
I've followed the example of "Red" and put all of the
dialog at the end.
6. Transparent to the reader, but true of my work, this
story took about 8 hours to write. No Joke.
-- So, what do you think?
I honestly love to get Email from folks who
have read my stories, if you liked it, please drop
me a little note at <jpalmer@best.com>, and please
visit my web site at: <http://www.best.com/~jpalmer>
-- This story was written on my now rather beat up Psion 3A Computer