Oops, I knew I was forgetting something, the story.
(Insert standard 'curse up a blue streak' curse words here)

Well, this time for sure!
Here's how da whole ting shoulda went:

        Look at the tags people. It is more than slightlty
demented. Remember, I warned you....
No lemon in it mind you. Not dark either. Just a bit demented.

Comments are appreciated, as are any criticisms. Flames will 
keep me warm on cold winter nights (just try to be original
with the flames. All I ask).

I can be reached at maybeso@ican.net 

And now,        A Little Conversation

	Ranma burst into the Nekohanten, reducing the sturdy wood doors to splinters without a thought. "Old ghoul!" Ranma raged, "Where are you?"

	Cologne appeared from the kitchen, as calm and as unruffled as ever.
"Shampoo and Mousse are gone. It's safe."

	Ranma's fury evaporated instantly, replaced with a more good-natured expression. "Whew! That saves us some trouble then."

	"You're going to have to pay for the doors though," Cologne laughed.

	"What? Shampoo's always busting up walls 'n stuff. You get her to stop doing that, an' I'll start paying for the doors."

	"Feh. So, why did you come son-in-law?"

	"Oh, no special reason. Things're heatin' up at the Tendo's. Y'know, the usual routine. Akane can't handle me tellin' her the truth, denies it, gets mad at me, and gets everyone else there on her side. Where else do I got ta go to?"

	"If you married Shampoo," Cologne began, only to for Ranma to join in and continue with her, "you could go to the Village, where you would be accepted. It wouldn't be a bad life; she does love you, son-in-law."

	Ranma smiled slyly, and looked deep into Cologne's eyes. "Why should I settle for being your son-in-law when I'd rather be your husband?" Ranma held the face for a moment, before he broke into a laugh. Cologne did not even try to hold her laughter in.

	Two stomaches sore with laughter later, Ranma spoke again, fondly, wistfully even. "Seriously Cologne, I think you're the only one around here I can really talk to. Sure, there's doc Tofu, but he's too close to the Tendos. 'Sides, he sees Kasumi, ya don't know what he's gonna do. Maybe he accidentally lets something slip, then what?"
	Ranma sighed. "If you were only younger. When we went back in time with the Nanban mirror.... Grrr, you were a real looker then. Or maybe if I were older, it wouldn't matter so much. But we're not, and it does."
	Ranma perked up, saying, "So, what ya gonna teach me today Cologne?"

	Cologne snapped out of her reverie. "I thought today we would try some pressure point combinations for paralysing your opponent."

	"Sounds good ta me."

	Ranma left later, refreshed by the practice, and more importantly by his conversation with Cologne. The Tendos and his dad would start to worry soon, Ranma noted as he looked at the streetlights starting to come on.
	Walking back to the dojo, Ranma was already looking forward to seeing Cologne again, and already thinking of excuses to do so. If only they were the same age, if only. Ranma laughed briefly, hopping onto the chain-link fence beside him.  Ah well, he thought, at least he had a good friend.

Notes:  Yeah, I know.
	What can I say? I disagree with the idea that Cologne=bad. She gives Ranma advice (whether or not he uses it is another story), and teaches him techniques without thought of recompense. When he finds himself in situations that are more than he can handle, or he needs advice or information, Ranma goes to Cologne. The idea that the two may be (or may become) friends is not so inconcievable when thought of that way, is it?

	This was written mainly due to a pause in Ice Cream, I am unsure where to put the scene of Keiichi and Belldandy's meeting. At one point, I toyed with the idea of having Skuld put the two together, but that was disgarded before I started writing it. Actually, as I write these notes now, I think I can see the scene now, hmmm.... maybe some more of Ice Cream sooner than I thought.

	Redundant plea for C&C goes here.

	Matt Lewis
Dimmer switch on the track-lighting of truth
Lampshade on the desklamp of knowledge
Slowly erasing the line between tolerance and apathy