Disclaimers in part 1
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"You tilt your head, laughing,
as if, 'I know the trick you're hatching,
but go ahead.'"

~~Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks -- The Essential Rumi ~~
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SUNDAY, APRIL 4, 2000
LONE GUNMEN HQ
EARLY AFTERNOON

BYERS:

I can't believe what just happened here. Thank god everyone's gone now -- except Sari, who has rather inconveniently locked herself into my room. Why couldn't she have used Frohike's? Right, I forgot; she has standards.

There will be revenge against my so-called 'friends,' I just don't know what it will be yet. A slow, painful death is too good for them. At the moment, though, I have to try to find something to say to Sari. Although we've discussed the subject of Langly and Frohike's misapprehensions about our friendship, and Sari's told them both point blank that another harassing incident would result in the ripping of a matched set of new assholes, they were unwittingly aided and abetted in their immaturity by Sari's own sister.

While Sari and I know where we stand, neither of us had intended to have it bared to the world in quite that way. I don't think I've ever been angrier with the guys in the entire time I've been with them. I had nearly an hour to try to collect myself before Frohike came in to make his lame attempt at apology, but the time had hardly made a dent, and I honestly did have a strong urge to break the bastard's bones.

In answer to my quiet knock on the bedroom door, Sari shouts something in the same language she was bellowing at her sister.

"Sari, they're gone. It's just me."

"Why didn't you do anything to warn me? Are you really just as much of a shit as your two roomies, John?" Ouch.

"I tried to warn you. As soon as I figured out what was happening, I tried to say something, but Langly and Frohike grabbed me, and Frohike practically suffocated me to keep me from making noise."

"What, and you didn't bite his fingers off?"

"I tried that, too. He got me before I got my mouth open." I hear a click as the door unlocks and Sari's face appears. Her eyes are red and her face is wet from crying. I see the Cardinal poking his nose warily out from under my bed.

"I don't think I've ever been quite so humiliated in my life," she says.

"It was no tiptoe through the tulips for me, either."

"So what are we going to do for our revenge?" A wily grin splits her tear stained face, and her eyes narrow. I never suspected that she might have an evil streak like this in her, but I find it quite delightful. She always seems capable of surprising me, and I find it quite intriguing.

I have to pause to think for a moment. "I'm not sure yet, but we'll think of something."

She says, "come with me, I think I've got an idea."

Half an hour later, the extent of her capacity for diabolic childishness, and my own, has been deeply explored. Langly's bed has been short-sheeted, the lower half of the new sheets coated in chocolate pudding, and the entire interior liberally spread with breadcrumbs. Crinkly tinfoil has been slid into the pillowcases. Every light bulb in the room has been unscrewed enough that it flickers in an annoying, headache inducing fashion. I've also hidden a microphone in his room that feeds into a tape recorder in mine so that Sari and I can enjoy the results of our plotting when he and Deborah attempt to get into bed. I haven't had this much fun in a long time.

For Frohike, we've hidden every single bit of medication that might possibly reduce the pain of the hangover he's certain to have later. I plan on subjecting him to the hand in a bucket of warm water treatment once he's passed out. Sari suggested flossing him into bed, but that really only works successfully on someone inhabiting the top rack on a bunk bed, so we've passed on that idea. But we're just about done hauling his entire collection of blue videos out to the back of her car, where they'll make a trip to a storage unit for most of the next week. I never realized just how many of the damned things he has around the place.

They weren't just in his locked video cabinets. I found a dozen or so more in his closet, and four or five under his bed and in the drawer next to it. We didn't find any dropped under the furniture in the TV room, or anywhere else in the office -- although we did find one surveillance video that turned out to be some foggy shower footage of Agent Scully dated about two weeks ago buried in the back of the safe. That one will get couriered to her tomorrow morning with a note telling her that Frohike had hidden it but I thought it would be safer in her hands. I had no idea he'd bugged her shower. That's really low, even for him. And the best part of it is, I can sit back and watch Scully deal with my mutant roommate, saving me an immense amount of effort.

We’re both giggling like little kids by the time we've hauled the last load of tapes out to Sari's car.

"I think this calls for a late lunch, once we've dropped off the tapes and the Cardinal," she suggests.

"I agree. Thai?" I'm in the mood for something Asian. She smiles broadly at me, the stresses from this morning set aside for the moment. We'll worry about Pinck and Black Widow later.

"You're a man after my own heart, John. I could really use something spicy right about now. I'm thinking a nice, rich, red coconut basil curry and some mushroom tom ka would hit the spot. And I know the perfect vegetarian Thai place, too."

Sunglasses on to ease the bright April sunlight, I buckle into the passenger seat and we're off for a peaceful afternoon of good food and pleasant conversation. Five star spicing, here we come.

LONE GUNMEN HQ
EARLY EVENING

LANGLY:

We just got back from pigging out at Victoria Station. I'm glad Deb's a carnivore. Never could understand women who eat a lettuce leaf and a cracker and call it dinner. And no wimpy white wine spritzers for my girl either. We put away about a six-pack of draft Anchor Steam, the best beer in the known universe. The food was great, and she looks real hot licking the barbecue sauce off her fingers. Makes me wonder if I should grab some of that chocolate pudding from the fridge and see if she'd lick it off me.

Byers and Sari are in the TV room at the moment. I'm kinda nervous about seeing them, but might as well get it over with. I'm prepared to get my head bit off.

"He's kinda touchy sometimes," I warn Deb, making what has to be the understatement of the year, "but he's probably cooled down by now." I hope, but I'm doubtful. Byers takes a long time to get pissed, but once he's there, bringing him back to reality takes twice as long, so I'm kind of shocked when I stick my head in and they both greet me and Deb pretty pleasantly.

"How was the movie, guys?" Byers asks us. Oh yeah, that's right. We went to a movie.

"Quick, what'd we see?" I whisper to Deb.

"Uh... I think it was 'Mission to Mars,'" Deb says, looking kind of embarrassed.

So what. We had a lot more fun doing our own x-rated live private video in the back row. God, Deb has such a hot tongue... I never got treated like that in a theater before. She said she'd never done it there either, but hey, sometimes there's nothing like the first time.

Sari smiles at us. "Did you like it?"

Like she cares; not like she'd ever watch that kind of movie anyway. Right now she's watching this French movie. Byers is sitting next to her -- got his eyes closed 'cause he's not supposed to watch yet, but it doesn't matter, he speaks French. She's describing the action to him as we talk. I mean, I got no problem with foreign films, really. Some people say they never get it, but I mean, look at Godzilla: 'large reptile stomps metropolitan Tokyo.' Hardly inaccessible. Problem with the movies Byers watches is, nobody ever looks like they're having any fun.

"Uh... yeah," Deb says. Poor sweetie. She's a doctor, yeah, but underneath it all, she's a nice Catholic school girl from New Orleans. They say that Catholic girls are hot, and I think she proved that beyond any shadow of a doubt this afternoon.

"Um, we're like kinda tired," I tell Byers, and that is, believe it or not, the truth. I haven't gotten much sleep lately, and Deb's still got catching up to do. Our massive early dinner did make us kind of drowsy, but we were thinking we need to work off some of those calories, and we've got an exercise program all planned. When the waiter asked if we wanted dessert, Deb just licked her lips and said we'd have it at home. I told him to just bring the check, stat. "Like, where's Doohickey?"

"He said something about needing a drink," Byers says, leaning back into Sari and resting his head on her shoulder. She puts her arm around him so they can both get comfy.

I'm not gonna say anything, I'm really not. I mean, Sari's done this with me, for Christ's sake. Still, she did say Byers was hot, and if he missed that, I swear his nads have shriveled up and died.

Knowing that Frohike's most likely off in some bar doesn't make me feel all warm and fuzzy, though. He's supposed to be at Sierra tomorrow morning to finish up our work there, and if he thinks I'm getting out of my warm, comfy bed while he lies around on his hung over ass, he's got another thing coming.

"C'mon, honey," Deb says in that delightful N'Awlins drawl. God, I love her accent, and it really comes out after she's got a few beers in her. Just that accent by itself could get me hot, if other things weren't getting a head start on the process already. "Let's go lie down." And that's just the start of things, isn't it?

We lock the door behind us and start ripping off each other's clothes. Well, okay, maybe not ripping -- Deb knows how I feel about my Ramones T-shirt. And why would I ruin hers that says, 'Worship Me for the Goddess I Am'? I do, after all. Especially what's underneath the T-shirt. Oh baby, she has gorgeous tits, and she kisses so great I just can't wait to crawl in between the sheets with her. Deb says she loves my sheets. Gotta remember to thank Sari for that, she really knew what she was doing.

We pull back the covers and jump in bed, only to discover that our feet won't go all the way down. This might not be a problem if you're a midget like Frohike, but Deb and me, we're both like six feet tall, and this means we have a problem. And my soft sheets feel... scratchy. Ugh. There's bread crumbs in here.

"Ringo honey, there's... something... slimy down here."

Deb pulls back her foot and it's covered with this brown stuff. I immediately recognize it as the chocolate pudding I thought about smearing on myself and having her eat off me, but the pudding is stuck full of crumbs. Eew. Suddenly the idea of sex with pudding has a lot less appeal. We both let out a shriek when we realize why Byers and Sari were so damn nice to us. The bastards were busy getting even with us the whole time. I never shoulda left them alone. Nah. Then I wouldn't have gotten such a great blow at the movie. I guess we're gonna have a romantic trip to the laundromat. I really know how to show a girl a good time, don't I?

SARI:

As soon as Ringo and Deborah were safely ensconced in his bedroom, John and I stopped our movie and snuck into John's room, where he'd set up a tape recorder to catch the play-by-play of them discovering our dastardly but oh so delicious deeds of this afternoon. I feel like I should be doing a Snidely Whiplash mustache twirl and a 'bwahahaha.' As we'd hoped, there's a great deal of shrieking and indications of gross-out galore. Best of all, before they discovered all this, they were buck naked, thus making the results all the more delightful for us. We can barely contain ourselves as we listen to the audio feed of the two of them cursing, struggling to remove the bedding, and put on some clothes. John is laughing so hard, I'm afraid he'll burst a blood vessel in his eye. Ringo and Deborah may want to kill us in cold blood, but the way we feel right now, it would be worth it.

"Chocolate pudding: $3.49," John begins, struggling to speak as he's laughing. "Loaf of bread: $2.39. Roll of aluminum foil: $3.79. Listening t0 your roommate freak after you've decimated his bed: priceless."

I'm laughing just as hard as he is. It sounds as if they've gotten the bed stripped and themselves covered. They'd been planning for just the opposite, which makes it all the more delightful.

"Okay, they're coming out," John whispers as he turns off the tape. He's wiping his eyes and trying to catch his breath, as am I. If they see us like this, they'll know something's up.

We head quickly back to the TV room on little Cardinal Richelieu feet, just in time for the two of them to reappear with two trash bags, no doubt containing the fouled bedding. I notice that Ringo's T-shirt is inside out, but I'll skip the commentary for now.

He stands there staring at us, scowling, but his expression mellows. They've both left little squishy pudding footprints on the floor. Contrite, Ringo speaks.

"Okay, okay, we deserved that. We gotta go to the laundromat, I think that's punishment enough."

Deborah says nothing but looks repentant as well. While she was not a direct offender, she was certainly an accomplice, and from what John indicated, she was enjoying my not-so-private exchange with the Magpie.

"Langly, you should really take care of those messy footprints," John says, pointing at the shiny spots on the tile of the office space. Ringo groans but complies.

Before they take off, Deb actually apologizes, and I assure her that there are no hard feelings. No, definitely no hard feelings. But as soon as they're out the door, there's plenty of hard laughter. And the fun has barely begun -- Dana won't get Mel's video until tomorrow morning.

DEBORAH:

Okay, I hadn't exactly planned on spending tonight in a coin op laundry, but we pretty much had the place to ourselves, which meant our PDAs didn't have to be too terribly restrained. We did stay dressed, but that's about it. I never had so much fun washing clothes. Once the sheets are all fluffy and clean again, we head on back to Ringo's. Sari's gone when we get there; I'm sure she's got a long day ahead of her tomorrow. I know that drill. I'm enjoying my vacation to an obscene degree this week. Ringo is contributing much to the obscene part.

His practical-joking roomie Byers is still up, listening to Glenn Miller and lying on the sofa when we come in. He looks a bit tired. This doesn't surprise me. It takes lots of energy to plan and execute a good practical joke. I should know.

"Don't you have a follow up appointment tomorrow morning?" I ask him.

"Yes, I do. Langly, my appointment's at 11."

"Jesus, I gotta get up at the crack of 10? You got no heart, Byers."

I giggle. I offer to do his eye medications, and having done that, I send him off to bed, so that I can send my love and I off to bed, too. This time, it's absolutely delicious to climb in between the sheets, still slightly warm from the dryer, and snuggle up next to my sweetie's bare flesh. He's so warm, so wonderful. I've only been here three nights, and I'm absolutely addicted to sharing a bed with him. I think he's feeling the same way, if his actions are any indication.

"At least now the bed feels good," I whisper, blowing in his ear.

"Well, we're probably lucky that's all they did," Ringo says dreamily. "They coulda been a lot worse."

"Oh, like how?"

"Well, they coulda put hidden video or audio in here... wait a minute."

He leaps out of the bed, still naked, and grabs for a device on top of the bureau. He sweeps it over the room, and when he puts it up to the head of the bed, it beeps. He pries something small from behind the headboard, frowns, motions to me that he'll be right back, pulls on his sweat pants, and runs out of the room. Oh no, what's he going to do now?

"BYERS!!!"

end part 18