And now for something a little...ordinary. A cinderella story.
It occurs to me that I have spent a lot of time on an 'original'
fanfic (The Adventures of Macho Caballo), and have not paid dues
by turning out the obligatory Ranmafic. I propose to produce one.
This is a teaser (maybe the intro) for a story I haven't done yet
(undone stories are always the best kind) because of commitments
to TAoMC. However, the muse is beginning to make threatening
noises, so here is the opening shot. Comments appreciated.
As always with my stories, I may borrow stuff I like from good
fanfics. (Taking from one source is 'plagiarism'. Taking from
more than one source is 'research'. It's the Term Paper Rule)
Sometime back on the FFML, someone brought up the possibility of
using a charity benefit rock concert as a setting for a fanfic.
To that person, I send greetings and this fic:
THE CINDERELLA SINGER
A mini-series (maybe)
Our story begins in what you might call the service department
of a really big organization, with an attractive lass, slightly
over - scratch that - underdressed for the job. She was, if you
will pardon the expression, 'manning' the phone - if ever there
was a phrase that needed updating...manning? - This was a babe,
curvey figure, smokey gray eyes, platinum hair down to her -
(ahem!) - as I was saying, our story begins with this ... person.
The platinum blonde made a face as she tried to blow a strand of
hair out of the way.
"Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored. Why did I even ask to be put
back on this duty?"
She is not the heroine of the story, although she *does* grant
wishes - which is the 'stock-in-trade' of the fairy godmother.
You have to have a fairy godmother for a Cinderlla story. It
is a rule. An ancient rule. Before anime, even.
In any job involving telecommunications there are inevitable
misunderstandings -
-ring-
"Hello, Goddess Hotline. No, this is not a wrong
number. Hello? Hello?"
There are practical jokers -
-ring-
"No, we don't have Prince Albert in the can. In fact,
he is out of gaol now and playing cricket with Mary, Queen of
Scots. Hello? Hello?"
-ring-
"Hello, Goddess Hotline. Sorry, no executions,
fomenting of rebellions, or tickets to the Phantom Menace.
Also, no trips to alien planets, and we don't do Windows. And
no Instant Lifetime Companion. New rule."
-ring-
"No, we do *not* deliver takeout. That only worked
once, you know! Still don't know what she sees in him...."
-ring-
"Hello, Goddess Hotline. No, this is not a wrong
number. Hello? Hello? Darn, again. Can't help the
unbelievers."
Around her, perfect sunlight dappled a perfect pool, while
perfect koi slid beneath the surface.
"Booooorrrrriiiiing," she said. "Everything is *so* predictable."
And there are actually legitimate customers with needs -
-ring-
"Hello, Goddess Hotline, howmayIhelpyou?
"Hai. Oppressive employer? Really starting to make life
miserable, huh? Okay, we can do something...Yes, really -
But you'll have to be patient. Heaven wasn't built
in a day, you know. Thank you for your faith."
"There!" she breathed a sigh of relief, "Finally one I can do
something about. Hmmm? Someone is in the data garden....?
And there goes that phone *again*!"
-ring-
"No, we don't ruin your competitors for you. That's
your job, and I see by your record that you have been doing an
excellent job of doing just that. Who gave you our number,
anyway?
"No, you do *not* get your wish.
"No, it is not a matter of being good. There are many good
people out there, of whom you are not one, and they don't get
a wish because they are not on our list.
"Yes, I know who you are. As a matter of fact, I know *what*
you are, and I know *where* you are. I've got a good mind to
reach through this phone and...."
Thunder rumbled, beyond a clear sky.
"...but I won't. Probation, darn it. However, I *can* correct
this wrong connection...."
-Bzzzapapppp!-
"THAT felt good. Hello? Hello? (smirk) Must have hung up."
"Yawn. *So* predictable. I could use some temporary help
around here.... Now, who is that in the data garden?"
---------
Basho, a monk of the Temple of the Good Deed faced a beautiful
young woman who seemed not quite upset with him. He would
have been less worried if she had frowned, or even spoken
angrily. Instead, she smiled pleasantly, in a manner which
suggested that she expected something from him.
"But I don't know how I got here!" he said, "I was meditating,
concentrating on the main precept of our sect, which is to help
people, when...."
"Isn't that a contradiction in terms?" The young woman placed
a finger to her chin in a 'thinking' pose, which made her all
the more appealing.
"Helping people?" Basho stopped in confusion.
"No - meditating and concentrating. Entirely opposite methods."
"Umm...I suppose so. But according to my sensei, it is necessary,
in order to help people! There is a final truth, which I must find,
in order to attain the highest level of understanding! I want so
much to fulfill the precepts of my school...uh...where was I?"
"In our data garden...." The goddess leaned toward him to point
out the rows of information, which exposed cleavage. Basho drew
back in alarm.
[I shall take several deep breasts,] he thought. [I must retain
a calm state of mind. Did I just think what I think I thought?]
"...Somewhere between the RAMdishes and the spaghetti code," the
young woman continued. "Trespassing. I'll have to ask you to leave."
"Gladly!" the monk said, sweating, "I do not wish to intrude."
"Oh, no problem, really. No damage done. But, since you are
here, maybe you can do something for me, and I can do something
for you."
Basho was very aware of the aroma of wildflowers, the hissing
roar of a wild mountain stream which he decided was the sound
of his own blood, and the nearness of a shapely expanse of
barely covered female flesh. With a will of iron, he controlled
his voice to say, "I agree. With reservations."
"Before you go, let me tell you this little secret about your
sensei...." She began to whisper into his ear.
Now, Basho was not a bashful person, and while he was devout, he
enjoyed female company as long as it did not interfere with his
meditations. So it was not his reaction to the young lady which
caused the following.
About that time, Basho's world collapsed to the size of the
universe, which was bigger than anything and smaller than nothing,
and he remembered nothing more.
That was a shame, really. One should be awake when having a wish
granted. Then one would know what to regret wishing for.
-------
end of teaser:
Barring earthquakes, flood, job-loss, and the expected Y2K crunch,
I hope to slowly turn out parts of this sentimental soliloquy.
(In between chapters for TAoMC, as the muse demands.)
Who knows? It might turn out to be readable. =)
James and the Bluejay