Subject: [FFML] Re: [Ranma] Special Training
From: "DB Sommer" <sommer@3rdm.net>
Date: 10/3/2001, 12:58 PM
To: "Rakhal Stormwarden" <ffml@rakhal.com>
CC: <ffml@anifics.com>

And moving on:



Well, normally I just READ fics and index them, but just for a change I
actually
wrote something :). Very silly and very short, I hope you enjoy it.

We shall see.


--------------------------------------------------------------------------
------

It had been a fine week at the seaside and a happy party made their way
home to the Tendo Dojo at the end of it.

Which means it's all about to come down around their heads.

 Nabiki was in the lead, reaching
the front door first, Kasumi was close behind and, bringing up the rear,
Soun and Genma came, struggling with the bags.

"Fine idea that, Saotome-kun," Soun said. "With a week on their own
together
our children will surely have admitted their love. Why, we shall
be able to have the wedding next weekend!" The panda walking beside him
growf-ed amiably in return.

Heh. Typical of them.


"That is if Ranma is still living," Nabiki commented. "A week of Akane's
cooking, and the only service that Ranma may need will be the
mortician's!"

Heh. Bit cold, even for her.


"Welcome back!" Akane said, fortunately arriving just too late to hear
Nabiki's comment.

Nah. She wouldn't do anything to Nabby. She didn't get more than irritated
when she discovered Nabby had copped her clothes.


"So, how many holes do we need to repair then?" Nabiki commented, looking
around the house. Surprisingly there weren't that many new holes, far
less than she'd have expected. "Where's Ranma?"

Akane: Dead.

Nabiki: Noo. He was my best source of income.

Akane: Well, he's not all dead. Just sort of dead.

Nabiki: And what exactly does 'sort of dead' mean?

Akane: Same thing being 'sort of pregnent' does.

Nabiki: Oh.


"I don't know where that baka has got to. For the last couple of days he
seems to be avoiding me! How am I supposed to improve my cooking if he
won't taste it for me?"

Nabiki: Sample it yourself?

Akane: Won't work. Taste buds went out years ago from smapling me early
cooking attempts. Now those were REALLY bad.


"I hope he's all right," Kasumi said worriedly.

"Self-preservation -- our Ranma-kun might have a few brain cells after
all,"
Nabiki said sardonically.

Ranma: No. I seem to have gotten Ryouga's direction sense by mistake.


"Ranma! What were you doing in my room?!",

stray comma

Ranma: Sniffing your underwear. Happi got me addicted.


She was just in time to see a brief flicker enter Kasumi's room. What
on earth was Ranma up to? Was this some sick training regime of Happosai's
or something?

Hmm. Interestng. She drew the conclusion I sort of did.


Quickly she checked her drawers. All of her underwear was still there, and
nothing obvious was out of place.

Downstaurs,

Downstairs

she found Kasumi gently berating Akane in the kitchen. The
reason why was fairly obvious: it looked like a culinary war zone in
there!

Akane: It's not my fault. It's just that the Iron Chef show went on the road
and used our place for a tournament.

"baaaaaaaaaaaaaakkkkkkkkaaaaaaaaaa...." His eyes didn't even seem to be
human, and Akane took a couple of steps back, sweating lightly.

Genma was less concerned and made to whack his errant son on the head
to bring him out of whatever state he was in. Unfortunately, he found
himself implanted in the floor instead with a huge mallet adorning his
skull.

Now that's evil. An amusing application of the cliche, though. I approve.

D.B. Sommer




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