"The League of Evil Sorceresses... Again" by Cherryne Edejer

The members of the League:

Cinnabar: A genie, formerly the Mistress of Fire (a.k.a. an evil sorceress)

Saleen: A water elemental (a.k.a. an evil being)

Mirage: Evil Incarnate (a.k.a. an irritating, annoying nuisance)

[Minutes from yet another meeting of the League of Sorceresses, Beings and Irritating, Annoying... Ah, you should know the rest by now.]

Mirage: Okay, this meeting of L.E.S.B.I.---

Saleen: Stop that right there! All right, that was supposedly funny the first thousand times, but not anymore!

Mirage: Don't look at me. I'm not the one writing this stupid script.

Cherryne: Shut up or everyone is going to end up in cheerleader outfits.

Saleen: Ulp... Since you put it *that* way...

Cinnabar: Say... I thought you went for matador outfits.

Cherryne: You're mixing me up with the Aviatrix. Besides, it keeps the boss happy.

Mirage: Let's get on with this, shall we? I still don't see why you two have a problem with the name. This is the '90s, after all.

Cinnabar: It's not so much that we don't like the name. It's the fact that we're associated with *you* with that name.

(Saleen and Cinnabar shudder in unison.)

Saleen: We've got reputations to uphold.

Mirage: I know. you seem to have quite a reputation at the DSES, Saleen. (Cinnabar snickers.)

Cinnabar: Can't say it's flattering, either...

Saleen: Flamethrower.

Cinnabar: Fillet O' Fish.

Mirage: Let's not start *that* again. Okay, I just wanted to say that there are a couple of people who want to sit in our meeting today.

Saleen: Who'd be pathetic enough to sit in on our meetings?

Splatter: C'mon, Camille! Tell me what's wrong with my hair!

Saleen: Ask a stupid question...

Cinnabar: I suppose anyone who'd hang out with Geary *would* qualify...

Mirage: Hi girls, have a seat.

Camille: So... What do you guys usually do during these meetings, anyways?

Saleen: Besides rot away the most fruitful years of our lives?

Mirage: Actually, we have intellectual discussions which shed light upon differing facets within our modern society.

Splatter: In other words, you gossip.

Mirage: Well, yeah.

Cinnabar: And then we hold a wet bar.

Saleen: The only redeeming feature of this club...

Cinnabar: Speaking of intellectual discussion, how is it with Geary, Splatter? (Nudges Splatter and winks. Everybody else bursts out laughing.)

Cinnabar: What did I say?

Camille: You're not from around here, are you?

Cinnabar: Of course not! I'm not with the company!

Saleen: Get a clue.

Cinnabar: Drip.

Saleen: Gas.

Cinnabar: Drain clog.

Saleen: Second-hand smoke.

Cinnabar: Raw sewage.

Saleen: Third-degree burn.

Splatter: Hey, Mirage. For once in your life, you were right. This *is* fun.

Mirage: Told you. Anyone want something to eat?

Camille: As long as it didn't come out of a tin can, yeah.

Mirage: Nah, I ordered out this time. You know, from that French chef, Louis? I hope you like sushi. (Lifts cover off tray.)

Splatter: Ooo... Calamari.

Saleen: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! Armand!!!

Mirage: I knew I should've ordered at Red Lobster...

Camille: Mmm... Looks good.

Cinnabar: But a little undercooked. (Cinnabar prepares to throw a fireball.)

Saleen: Don't you dare! (Camille pokes the food.)

Camille: Say... What's this thing wrapped around the main course? (Mirage squints at it.)

Mirage: I thought this dish looked familiar... Or, at least like one. It's Xerxes!

Cinnabar: Looks like your familiar's been finding something to do while you're off at meetings, eh, Saleen?

Splatter: "Do" being the operative word...

Saleen: Armand! How could you? I can't leave you alone for one minute!  (Armand shrugs his tentacles apologetically, then slinks away, shortly followed by Xerxes.)

Splatter: Well, there goes dinner.

Camille: Don't you have anything else to eat?

Mirage: Sorry. All I have in the fridge is a tin of sardines.

Cinnabar: Then let's just skip to the wet bar, shall we?

(A couple of hours and several drinks later...)

Mirage: Okay, bar's closed.

Splatter: You know, Mirage, you don't seem half as annoying as you usually do. Wonder why...

Camille: This is just a guess, but I'd say it's those 12 martinis you had.

Cinnabar: Don't forget that bottle of Bailey's she polished off around 11o'clock.

Splatter: Eleven already? My, my, my. Maybe I should go home to my little Geary wompus. Has anyone seen my French maid outfit?

Saleen: She *must* be drunk. I shudder to think otherwise...

Cinnabar: Anyone mind if I smoke?

Mirage: Just keep away from the drinks. I'd hate to have this place blow up... Again.

Camille: Don't you have insurance?

Mirage: Yeah, but it was *my* policy I accidently bought.

Saleen: Figures.

(Cinnabar shrugs and begins to blow smoke rings from her mouth---without a cigarette.)

Camille: You know, I've been thinking...

Splatter: Ah. That explains the smoke.

Mirage: That's just Cinn, remember?

Saleen: Just get on with it, please?

Camille: Well... Armand and Xerxes are both male, right?

Cinnabar: That's stretching the definition, but yeah.

Camille: So what were they doing together? (There is a drunken pause.)

Splatter: Maybe they're gay?

Saleen: Armand is not gay!

Mirage: But he *is* a hairdresser...

Saleen: Pander to the stereotype, why don't you?

Splatter: Heh. You know how they say pets are like their owners...

Saleen: Hey! What's that supposed to mean?

Camille: Boy, would Moze be jealous if he found out...

Cinnabar: And wouldn't it be a shame if he found out...

Saleen: Cinn! You wouldn't!

Cinnabar: Try me.

Saleen: I can't lose my hairdresser! Although... You could certainly use one, with that lousy streak job of yours.

Cinnabar: Hey! This silver streak is *real*, pal! Pity I can't say the same thing about *your* hair...

Saleen: What!?

Cinnabar: Your roots are showing.

Saleen: At least I don't style my hair like Morgana MacCawber!

Cinnabar: How would you like to become a genuine, *flaming* redhead? (Fire begins to glow in her hands.)

Saleen: What *your* hair needs is a good rinsing, to get rid of that cheap hair dye! (She gestures and water spouts up in front of her.)

Mirage: Oh, geez, not again! My insurance doesn't cover elemental magic!  Or is that acts of Chaos? (She shrugs and tries to break up the fight. Magic begins to fly.)

Splatter: Looks like the party's over. C'mon, Camille. Let's get out while the getting's good.

Camille: Thanks for the drinks!

(The two hurry out of Morbia.)

Splatter: Geez, what a pair of morons. Getting into an argument just because of each other's hair.

Camille: Uh, well...

Splatter: What?

Camille: Well, *your* hair...

Splatter: Yes?

Camille: It could sort of be used as a nesting ground for mice.

Splatter: What?!

Camille: Hey! I thought you just said it was stupid to get mad over comments on people's hair?

Splatter: Not when it's *my* hair! Come back here, Camille! I'm not through with you yet! Wait a minute...

[End minutes.]

***

Copyright, Cherryne Edejer 1996.

Cinnabar is my own character and anyone using her without my permission will get... well, burned. 8;-)<

All other characters are property of the Walt Disney Co.