NOTE: This is in response to Shaddyr's Mary Sue query a week or so back, but don't blame Shaddyr. It's also the proof I need that I'm not completely blocked. I should point out that this is a deliberate story, and aside from the half naked coeds, none of it is to be construed as representative of my psyche.
Except for the Banana Splits. I loved that show. "Tra la la, la la la, tra la la, la la laaa; One banana, two banana, three banana, four; four bananas make a bunch and so do many more..."
*****
What the hell?
It's a library. I'm standing in a library,
just in front of the issue counter. The place was decorated in a
soulless bureaucratic way, with pale beige walls, dark high traffic carpet,
and institutional metal shelves. Call it a public or community college
kind of library. It was new, I could smell the rug and the paint,
and boxes of books sat stacked against the wall and down the aisles waiting
for someone to shelve them.
Me?
I'm a librarian? Okay, not so exciting at
the moment, but bring on the half naked coeds!
I love those dreams.
Though, I usually don't have to wait quite so long
for the half naked coeds to start showing up.
Oh, don't look at me like that! I suppose
you just dream about kittens and Winnie the Pooh!
I decide to take a look around. Maybe the
coeds are back in the stacks, softly giggling as they-
Aww, crap!
There was a newspaper on the counter, a small two
sheet tabloid, photocopied and obviously an amateur production, and I turned
it around only to read, "Razorbacks Ready For Best Season Yet!!!!!"
Okay, first things first. There are NO half
naked coeds in this story. I want to make that perfectly clear!
Next, I couldn't remember the last time I had a
Buffy dream- not her, the show! Get your mind out of the gutter.
Usually, aside from the odd half naked coed one or the being chased in
slow motion one, I don't remember my dreams.
But, you know what? I couldn't remember any
of them being this detailed, nor did they stay in one place too terribly
long. By this point the Banana Splits should have wandered by to
invite me to the Klingon homeworld for grilled cheese sandwiches.
And I don't remember being able to smell things like the rug and the paint,
and I could feel the light layer of dust on the counter beneath my fingers.
And, it was a bit warm.
Too warm. I looked down in fear.
Thank G-d, for small mercies. I wasn't wearing
a three piece tweed suit in southern California. At least I wasn't
Giles: The Next Generation.
So who the hell was I?
I was still a guy. That much was easily established.
I was conservatively dressed in dark grey slacks
and navy shirt, I could see my jacket and tie draped over a chair behind
the counter. So I was probably the librarian, or one of the librarians,
in what appeared to be a rebuilt Sunnydale High. Oh, that was not
reassuring. Note to self; stock up on holy water and a super soaker.
Checking out the contents of my wallet, I found
eighty six dollars in American money, a Canadian twenty, a Visa card, a
newly issued California driver's license- good an address, I won't have
to sleep in the park, and a green card. Ahh, that's nice, I was a
resident alien.
I felt like Marvin the Martian.
I was still me. Least it was my name on the
green card and everything.
Pushing the wallet back in my pocket, I explored
the small office behind the counter. Four cardboard boxes had my
name and the word 'Personal' written on them in my handwriting. I
open one and found a bunch of books with titles like 'Annotated Demon Lore',
'Geographique Demonia', and a real page turner, Orlok's 'Travelogue of
the Damned'.
Alright then, I was a Watcher.
So, since it was my dream, I had to be as smart
as Giles, and as handsome as-
Crap! I was still me. Least ways it
was my face looking back at me from a blank monitor screen. Though,
at least Grecian worked better in my dreams than in real life....
Sigh, I still wore glasses though. Damn.
So. I was dreaming that I was a Watcher in
Sunnydale. Cool. Let's see, first things first, find out what's
happening with a visit the Magic Box. Stay low profile at first,
introduce myself to Anya, chat her up for information on Sunnydale-
Hey! Wait a minute! This dream had some
serious potential that made half naked coeds look like Disney.
What's it called? Directed dreaming, isn't
it?
Oh yeah!
Hey! I might get those half naked coeds after
all-
"-sucks! It's Saturday and I'm-"
"Serving detention with your best friend by your
side. You know her? The one who didn't get detention, but is
here anyway?"
Damn it. It was the Annoying One, and her
friend, the girl from 'The Body'. Lisa, I think her name was.
They came in through the main doors and walked up to the counter.
Typically, Dawn was not happy. The universe
was conspiring against her. Again. Okay, the first time, last
season, she had a point, what with the whole Key thing and Glory, but damn
it, that act got old real fast.
There was an article back a bit about annoying TV
characters you just wanna slap around. Ross from Friends would be
my pick, or maybe Raymond. I hate Raymond. Anyway, Dawn headed
the list, and for some reason or other my subconscious was going to make
me spend the day with her in a library. Probably want to see how
long I'd last before I psychically chewed my leg off to escape the trap.
"Good morning, ladies. I'm Mister Bentley,
the librarian."
Oooh, there's a line calculated to instill fear
in demons and vampires.
"Hey," said Dawn, speaking to the floor, apparently
having already lost the will to go on.
"Hi," said Lisa(?). "I'm Lisa-" aha! "-and
this is Dawn. Where do you want us to begin?"
"Well, the A's would be the logical starting point,"
the soft chuckle she gave me was very generous. It was a crappy joke.
"Actually, let's start with the reference material. It's all down
over here and I've placed index cards on the shelves, so it should be easy
enough."
I did what? I took a look at the nearest shelf
and sure enough, there was an index card with my handwriting all over it.
How did I know that?
Hey! Didn't I read somewhere that you aren't
supposed to be able to read in your dreams? Something about one half
of your brain reads while the other half dreams. I shouldn't be able
to read anything, not the student newspaper, not the books, not my index
cards.
Okay, things were weird. All sorts of things
happen in my dreams, well the ones I remember, and none of them had happened
yet. No flying carpet rides (I love those), no sheer cliffs to scale
in the face of a raging blizzard, I hadn't parachuted into Nazi occupied
Europe, and I hadn't relieved Captain Picard of command and tossed Riker
out an air lock. No Playboy- No bunnies, cute little bunnies,
with fur and- Oh, forget it. This one time, I was Batman-
It was Batman! No, the cartoon. I remembered
that it was on one of the Batman cartoons that I heard about the whole
not reading thing. Hmm, hardly a reputable psychological source.
So, this was a dream.
Right?
Leaving the two girls to their task, I headed back
into my office. Dream or not, if all else fails make a cup of tea.
There was a coffee machine and an electric kettle on a counter, but I couldn't
see any tea. That was fine though, I know that Americans are congenitally
incapable of making a decent cup of tea to save their lives, and the commercials
be damn'd, Red Rose is floor sweepings; I wanted my Earl Grey. So
I was sure that somewhere in my boxes was some Earl Grey. Nope, turns
out there were just books in the other three boxes as well. There
was a small cupboard beside the counter, and when I pulled on the door
it was stuck, prompting a second harder jerk that opened it with a crash.
Something fell out of the cupboard and foolishly
I reached out to grab it, realizing at the last moment that it was a sword.
A faithful reproduction of a single handed dual purpose cut-and-thrust
sword of a pattern typical to the 15th Century, and well suited to dismounted
use-
"Fuck!" I cursed in my best outside voice as the
sword sliced into my palm. I released my grip, wincing as the blade
clattered to the tiled floor.
I was standing there in front of the open cupboard,
a sword at my feet, peering at my lacerated palm, when I looked up to see
Dawn and Lisa standing in the doorway staring first at me, then into the
cupboard.
Turning about I found that sure enough, the cupboard
was filled with maybe a half dozen swords, a battle axe or two, and a short
composite bow, the kind with pulleys to improve the pull. Oh, there
was my tea. Right beside the neat pile of stakes!
The pain in my palm had started to sink in now,
though the cut wasn't deep, more like a really big paper cut. Still,
it stung like hell and bled like a son of a bitch.
"Son of a bitch!" I said before my vocal filters
could kick in. Holding my hand closed to control the bleeding I look
about for something to-
"Here," said Dawn, handing me a gauze pad.
Her back pack was open on the counter, the contents of a small, though
well stocked, first aid kit scattered beside it.
"Thanks," I said, taking the pad, and after a quick
inspection that assured me that the biggest injury was to my pride, clenched
it in my fist. "Uh, sorry 'bout the swearing."
"S'okay. Heard worse," admitted Lisa.
"Said worse," confessed Dawn. She walked around
me to get a closer look at the cupboard, and twisted her head a bit to
read the spines of the books in the opened boxes.
"So," she said. "Your first time as a Watcher?"
I looked up at the ceiling, had to assume that the
Powers That Be were somewhere, and as the pain in my palm failed to fade
away, it was now obvious to me that Fleagle, Bingo, Drooper and Snork were
not about to invite me out to lunch, and that there was no chance in hell
that any of this was going to lead to half naked coeds.
I'll get you for this, I promised the Powers with
heartfelt, if impotent, anger before turning my attention back to Dawn.
"Yeah, kinda looks that way, doesn't it?"