(Scene opens to a small office cluttered with boxes and heaps of paper
scattered everwhere.  Next to the windows on the far side of the room sits a
desk and a large leather recliner which is facing the windows, looking out
over the south side of Chicago.  The recliner's back is to the camera, but a
faint scraping sound can be heard coming from it.)

(There is a knock on the door.  The scraping pauses, then the chair turns
slightly enough to show a pair of brown legs crossed at the knee and two
brown, petite hands, one holding a nail file.  The chair grumbles, then
calls out in a high, almost child-like voice:)

Voice: Come in, it's open!

(There is silence, then another knock.  The chair grumbles again and swivels
around to show a young African-American woman clad in an emerald green
t-shirt with a etching of a white horse across it and black shorts.  She's
quite small, only 5 feet, so one can almost mistake her for a teenager. She
glares angrily at the door through her glasses.)

Woman:  I said, it's open!

(There is another pause, then the knocking resumes.)

Woman: Will you just open the--aww, skip it.

(She starts to get up when the door opens. On the threshold stands two
Japanese teens, one dressed in yellow and black with a bandanna around his
head, the other in red and black Chinese clothes, sporting a pig-tail.)

Pig-tailed guy: Umm...LaShawn Taylor?

Woman: That's me, and I guess you're Ranma and Ryoga.  Come on in, boys.

(The two guys enter in.  They look a little uncomfortable as they glance
around the office.)

LaShawn: Oh, please don't mind the mess.  This past week has been absolute
hell, with everyone moving everywhere.  I've already switched internet
providers, and now I got to start packing at work so I can move to a new
building, and then I have to start my packing at home so I can move to a new
apartment next month.  This is sort of my impromptu imaginery office where I
conduct my fanfic business.  (She points to a couple of chairs in front of
the desk.) Why don't you guys have a seat?

Ryoga: Uhh...thanks.  (They both take a seat.  LaShawn clears off a space on
the desk and sits on it, crossing her legs as she looks from one guy to the
other.  She grins. Ranma and Ryoga gulp audibly.)

LaShawn: So, you're probably wondering what you guys are doing here in Chicago.

Ranma: Well, I did find it rather odd.  One moment we're in Nerima, we walk
a couple of blocks and suddenly we're in Chicago.  Then again, I was
following Ryoga, so I guess this sort of thing happens to him all the time.

Ryoga: It does not!!! You take that back, Ranma!

LaShawn: Boys, boys, no fighting.  Actually, if you want to know, I was the
one who brought you here.

(Ranma and Ryoga blink.)

Ryoga: You? But how? Even I don't travel cross-country that fast. (Grumbles
to himself) At least, I think I don't.

LaShawn: (smiling mysteriously) Oh, I have my ways. (Ranma and Ryoga look at
each other nervously.)

Ranma: So, uh, why exactly are we here?

LaShawn: I want to make a proposition to you.

Ryoga: Proposition?  Isn't that illegal in the United States? We *are*
underage, you know.

LaShawn: NOT THAT KIND OF PROPOSITION, YOU IDIOT! (Under her breath) Not
yet, anyway. (Louder) No, this is more of a business proposition.  Call it
an offer for employment, if you will.

Ranma: Oh, no.  Not one of those.  You wouldn't happen to be in cahoots with
a certain person in Nerima, would you?  I ain't dressing up in no bikini
again!  (Ryoga's eyes bug out slightly while LaShawn blinks.)

LaShawn: Ohhhhhhkay. I'm just gonna ignore that last remark.  Anyway, I
happen to be on the Fan Fiction Mailing List; you are familiar with that, yes?

Ranma: Yeah. That's where we get most of our gigs at.

Ryoga: We've been getting the weirdest ones, lately.  Hey Ranma, did you see
the one that just came out recently, the one that has Kasumi falling into
some Jusenkyo Gansta chick pool?

Ranma: Yeah.  Afterwards, I saw her walking around in a daze saying nothing
but, "Oh my. Oh my." Then she saw me, turned really red, and took off to
God-knows-where.  Don't know why. I don't look anything like Dr. Tofu.

LaShawn: Yeah.  Anyway, if you haven't noticed by now, there's been a rash
of MSTing fanfics...

Ryoga: MSTing?  Why would anyone spray a fanfic? Do they need water every day?

Ranma: I've been tempted to spray a few fanfics myself, but not with water...

LaShawn: Hush, Ranma.  Well, at first I thought of adding my own little two
cents in, but I wanted it to be more original.  Then I came up with this
brainstorm.

(She picks up a remote and presses it.  A screen comes down behind her and
activates, showing a tall skinny bespectacled guy leaving an apartment, then
cutting to a shorter, stouter man leaving another.  They meet in front of a
movie theater and go up a lot of stairs. The screen then centers on a sign:
SNEAK PREVIEWS.)

Ranma: (bored) Yeah. Two guys go into a theater. So?

LaShawn: So?  Those two guys were Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert, the two
greatest reviewers ever.  A movie can flourish or die a horrible death with
a flick from their thumbs!

Ryoga: Siskel and Ebert? Never heard of them.  We're from Japan, remember?

LaShawn: Fine.  Whatever. Anyway, one day I got this great idea: what if I
got you two together and gave you your own show where you rattle off
whatever you feel like at fanfics? At the least, you will be doing the usual
C&C I sometimes do for fanfics. At the most, it will be one of those MST3k
fanfics, except it will be done by you two.

Ranma: Hmmm...sounds easy.  Too easy. Why do you want us to do this?

LaShawn: I wanted to do C&C some time ago, but school really bogged me down.
Now that I'm out, I want to start critiquing fanfics again and  that's where
you come in.  For small projects, or if I'm just tired and I don't have much
to say, I'll just let you guys respond to the fanfic writer.  For major
projects, you get your own show, complete with your own opening, your own
riffs, bits, and skits, and you get your very own lackey.

(A voice, which sound eerily like LaShawn's except huskier, abruptly speaks
out from an intercom on her desk.)

Voice: Excuse me, girlfriend, but I ain't no lackey.

LaShawn: (smacks the intercom) Quiet, T-bone. I'm making a pitch. And quit
eavesdropping.

Ranma: Who's that.

LaShawn: T-bone.  My alter ego.

Ranma: Alter...ego...?

LaShawn: You'll meet her soon enough.  Anyway,  I was thinking of naming the
show 'R&R Reviews' -- you know, a play off of C&C to other fanfic writers.
Plus, it will give us--us meaning the FFML--more insight into the both of
you. You know, see how you guys tick.

Ryoga: (frowning) I don't tick.  I don't even have a watch.

LaShawn: Ryoga, honey, as much as I go gaga over you, keep quiet, okay.

Ranma: Sooo...let me see. You want us to sit around and say whatever we
think about fanfics that come up onto the FFML.

LaShawn: You got it.

Ranma: Sorry, but I'm still not convinced.  I mean, come on, me and pig-boy
here are martial artists!

Ryoga: Yeah...I mean, no! I'm not a pig boy!! (Growls) Ranma...

Ranma: We don't know what to say about such things.  I can barely tell how I
feel about certain females who are constantly chasing me.  Not that I can't
blame them...

Ryoga: (casually reaching over to plant a fist in Ranma's mouth) What this
idiot means is that we don't really know much about giving criticism.

LaShawn: Yes. I figured as much. (Gets off the desk) That's why I'm prepared
to offer you one more benefit.  You guys work on my show and I'll give
you...intelligence.

(Ranma and Ryoga blink.)

Ranma & Ryoga: Intelligence???

LaShawn: Yep. Intelligence, smarts, know-how, etc.

Ryoga: I don't need intelligence! I'm smart enough as it is!

Ranma: Besides, don't you think that will make us a little OOC?  I heard
there has been lots of talk regarding it.  I don't think people will take
kindly to us coming in and just start spouting off technobabble to each
other all friendly-like.

Ryoga: Yeah, we're martial artists! Our smarts are in our fists!

Ranma: Which explains how small your hands are, Ryoga.

Ryoga: Huh? What does my hands have to do with...(thinks for a moment, then
turns red) Why you...

LaShawn: HEY!!  Look, I promise that nothing will change if you guys become
smart.  Heck, I'll even prove it to you now.  Who's to blame for the
destruction in Cambodia?

Ranma: Cambo--what?

Ryoga: Isn't that in Africa? I was there once, you know.

Ranma: Was it Rambo? He was cool in the last movie he did.

LaShawn: You see? This is how you guys are now.  But, if you guys had
smarts, like so...

(Before the two can react, LaShawn reaches over and knocks both their heads
together really, really hard.)

LaShawn: Now, who is responsible for the destruction in Cambodia?

Ryoga: Well, obviously it was Polpot.  He basically headed the Khmer Rouge
and got all those peasants enslaved in implementing his 'New World Vision'.

Ranma: Yeah, who allowed the Khmer Rouge to flourish in the first place? If
you ask me, it was Sihanouk.  He could've done something about it, but
noooo, he had to jump onto the bandwagon until those who were running it
decided to push him off.

Ryoga: Ranma, how can you say that? Thousands of Cambodians were killed in
those agriculture camps! Haven't you ever watched "The Killing Fields?"

Ranma: All of that could've been avoided if Sihanouk stepped in.  But what
did he do? Nothing! He's a big coward, hiding until the coast is clear so he
can take everything for himself!

Ryoga: I'm telling you it's Polpot!

Ranma: Sihanouk!

Ryoga: Polpot!

Ranma: Sihanouk!!

Ryoga: POLPOT!!!

Ranma: 	SIHANOUK, YA MORON!!!

Ryoga: THAT DID IT!!! DIIIIEEE!!!

(Both began pounding on each other. LaShawn leans back on her desk with a
smug smile.)

LaShawn: See? Nothing to worry about.  (Her smile drops as the boys'
fighting grow more violent.) Hey, watch it, you two.  Hey. Hey!! Don't knock
over the plants!  HEY!! I paid a hundred bucks for that painting!!! STOP!
WHOAAAA!!!

Ryoga: SHI SHI HOUKOUDEN!!!

Ranma: HIYU SHOTEN YAAAA!!!!

LaShawn: MY OFFICE!! MY IMAGINARY OFFICE!! NOOOOO!!!

(There is a mighty *boom*.  When the dust clears, all that remains standing
is the door--everything else is covered with falling sheets of paper and
masonary.  After a moment, a figure comes to the door and looks over the
scene with disgust.  It looks just like LaShawn, except she's taller,
dressed in all red, wearing a pair of shades, and she's smoking a cigarette.)

T-bone: Girl, if you think I'm cleanin' this mess up, I hope you got
insurance, 'cause I ain't coverin' ya.

Pile of paper: Ohhhhh....
============================================================================
/===\     LaShawn M. Taylor (tbone@ccm.net)     MSTie#83924
|^ ^|\    "UV rays can damage the corneas; don't forget to rub a good 
 \v/\|    sunscreen into your eyes."
    |\   	-- Sun-tanning tips from The Onion (http://www.theonion.com)
    \|    "But no matter what the weather, you and the clouds will still be
	   beautiful."
		-- Andy Partridge "You and the Clouds"
T-bone's cafe is being moved to a new place--look for it soon!
============================================================================