The Snapping Turtle

The First Holy Ground Highlander Forum Midweek Challenge

Archivist’s Note: The stories and vignettes offered here from various Rysher Forumlanders have not been edited or changed other than having a spell-check performed and being reformatted for this website.

A Midweek Challenge

Posted by Leah CWPack on Wednesday, 5 April 2000, at 3:07 p.m.

For those who feel they are up to it, let's see a short HL vignette. It can be any style, featuring any characters, from any season, from anywhere...but in some way, MUST incorporate the following:

1) A snapping turtle 2) A polka dot tie 3) A pint of ice cream (any flavor) 4) Panty hose 5) A Black & Decker power tool

Good luck!

You asked for it...

Posted by Titania on Wednesday, 5 April 2000, at 3:45 p.m

Duncan swept Tessa's black pantyhose down the shower curtain rod. He glanced in the tub, did a double take and yelled "Richie, what is Yertl doing in here?!"

Richie sauntered into the bathroom eating a pint of Cherry Garcia. "I don't mind humoring your second childhood Richie," Duncan scolded, "but I do not appreciate having to sand around your pet snapping turtle!" he finished while brandishing a Black & Decker power sander.

"Alright Mac. Geez, don't have a cow. I'll go put him back in his tank. You know the guy at the pet store said that a daily swim was good for him." Richie mumble on his way out.

Duncan started to plug in the sander when he noticed something else on the bottom of the tub. "Richie, what's my Andy Warhol tie doing in here?!" he shouted, exasperated, as he picked up the hot pink and green polka-dot tie.

Oh dear...a challenge. (Must resist...)

Posted by vixen69 on Wednesday, 5 April 2000, at 5:07 p.m.

Eh. Can't. Here goes:

The Gift

Although engrossed with the contents of the large brown boxes he was sorting through, Methos turned around with apprehension on sensing the approach of another immortal. He knew from the sound of the footsteps that it could not be MacLeod, but could count on one hand the number of other immortals who knew about his little “home away from home” below the “Shakespeare and Company” bookstore. His face brightened on seeing that it was only Amanda. “So, what brings you to my humble basement?”

It was intended as a sarcastic greeting, but he could quickly tell she wasn’t in the mood for jokes. She was wearing a tight outfit with short mini-skirt, which for her wasn’t *too* unusual, but she was also wearing a long face and some panty hose that had clearly seen better days. She was also, oddly enough, carrying a rapidly melting carton of ice cream. “Amanda, what is it? Trouble?”

She sniffed, and her large brown eyes seemed filled with tears. “It’s MacLeod…” she began.

He gave the words a moment’s thought, secretly mouthing the words “what now?” to himself, but then realized it was only more of the same. “Still hammering away, is he?”

She nodded. “I went there and offered…well, chocolate ice cream and me for dessert, but he said he was busy! The nerve! And, look what happened to these!” She gestured down at her legs. Methos did not mind giving them a good, long look, but she quickly explained, “They got torn by a cordless power drill. It’s crazy, Methos. He has tools everywhere.”

He smirked, considering what he might do with the same offer, and returned to rummaging through the boxes.

“Don’t you have anything to say about it? Isn’t there anything we can do?” Amanda pleading. “He can’t go on like this!”

“Look, I’ve been through the same…well, not *quite* the same thing with him, and nothing worked. He’s a man possessed. I tried a few things, sure. I told him his pants were on fire. I set his pants on fire. I even dropped a snapping turtle down his back…nothing.”

“A snapping turtle?” Amanda exclaimed, turning a bit green around the gills.

“What, is this Kindness to Animals Week or something?”

“No, I just had the soup at Joe’s…the ‘special.’”

The old man swallowed, and pulled out a polka dot tie from the bottom of one of the boxes. “I wondered where this got to. If you look very closely, the polka dots appear to move.” They stared at it. “Or at least they did back in 1968,” Methos shrugged. “I’m clearing things out for charity.”

“Who’s Charity?” Amanda began, but before Methos could answer, they were joined by Joe, who was carrying a newspaper.

“Amanda, Methos, I think I’ve gotten to the bottom of MacLeod’s recent interest in carpentry.” He held out the paper. The headline read—“Freak Electrical Storm Hits Set of ‘This Old House’; Host Missing.”

“You’re not saying--?” they responded, almost in one breath.

“Well, no. But it gets your attention. Actually, I got him this really neat cordless power drill…”

Methos buried his head back in the boxes, knowing what was about to come next. “Hope you like…chocolate ice cream.”

"Owww!"

(No snapping turtles actually harmed in writing this post.)

Ok, here's a shot at it...

Posted by LA-LA lander on Wednesday, 5 April 2000, at 6:16 p.m.

"Hey, Richie!" Mac called over the loud whine of the power saw.

Richie stood up, turned off the Black & Decker saw and raised his goggles to the top of his head, leaving two clean raccoon-like rings in the dust covering the rest of his face. "What is it, Mac?"

"Do you think these panty hose look alright with this dress?" asked Mac, turning from side to side and looking critically down at his ensemble of a frilly powder blue dress with polka dot tie and matching powder blue pumps.

"Mac, what are you doing in that getup…and where did you manage to find powder blue pumps in a men's size eleven?"

"I'm reprising my role as Kate in Taming of the Shrew, and THIS time I'm going to play her nicer. I found a director who agrees with me that she shouldn't shriek so much, not like that rogue who was in charge when I was with the traveling minstrels…Oh darn it! Now I've got a run!"

"Mac, you're really scaring me."

"I've got to run or I'll miss the curtain. Would you pick up some ice cream? Ben & Jerry's, or Haagen Daaz. I want to have some people over after the show, and we have to serve them something nice," said Mac, batting his thick eyelashes and pursing his lips as he gazed into the hallway mirror examining the ruby red lipstick he had just applied.

"Oh, great Mac! And I suppose you want me to feed the snapping turtles for you too!"

"That would be great, Richie. You're such a doll," said Mac coyly, as he moved to give Richie a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Get away from me, Mac! You're really freaking me out here." With that, Richie switched his power saw back on with a loud whirr, and Mac traipsed out the door, his powder blue pumps clicking on the hallway tile.

Let's give this a try...

Posted by Torisen on Wednesday, 5 April 2000, at 6:56 p.m.

Nick Wolfe raced up the front steps of the Sanctuary, being careful not to jostle the contents of the box he carried. He didn’t know much about snapping turtles, but he didn’t want to take any chances getting this one angry. Gag gifts were fine as long as no one lost a finger.

Today was Amanda’s birthday and after hours spent wandering the shops of Paris, Nick had finally found the right gift. It had been important to find something appropriately ridiculous, considering her last birthday gift to him had been an incredibly hideous polka-dot tie. He wore the blue and yellow monstrosity now, so as to hint at his reason for giving Amanda a turtle instead of jewelry or perfume. She would pout, he knew, but it served her right. Nick could always take her out later for a night on the town.

On his way upstairs, Nick passed several workers making renovations. He blinked, wondering how the carpenter managed to always keep the Black & Decker label on his saw turned towards Nick regardless of where he stood.

The door to Amanda’s suite was open and Nick let himself in. He was hoping he might catch Amanda in the middle of one of her fan routines. However, the room appeared to be empty. Nick ventured further and nearly stepped in an empty carton of Chunky Monkey. A pair of panty hose lay discarded on the floor nearby. Nick heard giggling coming from behind the sofa.

“Amanda?”

Her head popped into view.

“Um, hi Nick. I wasn’t expecting you so early...” Her words failed to register in Nick’s brain. All his attention was focused on the man who had just gotten up from the sofa, one cheek smeared with lipstick. The man looked from Amanda to Nick and then began to shuffle guiltily towards the door, muttering something about the lateness of the hour and how he really must be going.

Nick gave this departure little notice as stared at Amanda in shock.

“How could you?” he demanded, more out of utter perplexity than hurt. “I mean, sure he’s ancient and experienced and incredibly cool... but STICK BOY???”

Re: A Midweek Challenge

Posted by Ciara on Wednesday, 5 April 2000, at 7:22 p.m.

Evil Duncan MacLeod sat mystified in front of the large screen TV..."What!? No 'Who Wants to Be The Only Immortal' tonight?" "That can't be..." he muttered while checking the TV Guide and eating a big spoonful of Rocky Road ice cream. He perused the listing and came up smiling..."Wait...here's something...'Who wants to Kill the Clown'...that should do it I hate clowns." He switched the channel and watched Bobo the clown in his purple and pink polka dot tie try to get a snapping turtle off his thumb. "Stupid clown..." he muttered. He lifted his Black and Decker rechargeable drill from the coffee table and pointed it at the TV. "Your dead." he said as he pulled a pair of pantyhose over his head. Methos strolled in from the kitchen and said dryly "Really MacLeod, these role playing games of yours have gone too far...."

Okay, Ms. Leah, you asked for it..

Posted by SBO, saying this one's all mine... on Wednesday, 5 April 2000, at 7:50 p.m.

just remember that! ---

MacLeod sat on the deck of his barge, eating a pint of his favorite ice cream from the world-famous ice cream parlor--Bertillion on the Ile St. Louis---just across the Seine. He was planning to eat the rich treat all in one sitting, too, and hoped it would cool the fire in his blood even just a little. He was just about as frustrated with Amanda as he had even been in the 350+ years he had known her.

Once again he'd been forced to bail her out--this time quite literally. The scene at the police station had been quite comical at first, he'd decided. Mac thought how pitiful Amanda looked sitting forlornly and a little nervous behind those massive metal bars.

"Oh, Duncan," she cried, "you're finally here!!" He had to repress a serious giggle when he saw that she'd been nabbed wearing a hideous polka dot bow tie.

"I should leave you here so that you're not arrested again--this time by the fashion police," he commented, not even attempting to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

Amanda noticed right away that he was staring directly at her neck. "Hey, I'll have you know, you spent a quite a lot on this bow tie," she snapped back. Her reaction reminded him of the snapping turtle that caught Hugh Fitzcairn in an unmentionable spot as the hapless trio made their way across the moat at the Tower of London when they stole the Stone of Scone. Mac grimaced at the thought of Amanda making off with his credit card again and it just added to the laundry list of offenses she was currently racking up.

Amanda looked more distressed about something else. The Scottish Immortal's grimace moved on to a shudder to think about what might be the cause of her nervousness.

"AND I ruined my most expensive pair of panty hose trying to escape!" she mourned.

"Were you wearing them on your head?"

"Funny, MacLeod, very funny. You won't be laughing long, though. I forgot your Black & Decker cordless electric drill that I used to get the hinges off the door at the scene of the crime."

"You what? You mean--the one..." he gasped and sputtered.

"Yes, the one I gave you last Christmas--the very special one that you just had to have and that I had inscribed with your name!" Amanda finally confessed.

Mac sighed a sigh worthy of a 400 year old man. "I need ice cream." ----

So whatcha think? Mr. SBO's will follow--it's either that or he starts working on the taxes!

Giggles--SBO

first try.....

Posted by Irish_eyes on Wednesday, 5 April 2000, at 8:55 p.m.

Amanda stood in front of the Chicago Museum of Natural History. Inside, was the famous blue sapphire jeweled statue of the Nigerian Fertility Goddess, that would soon be hers. As soon as darkness fell, she would begin her entry into the museum and, after easily procuring her goal, she would be on the first flight to Paris. Hopefully, Mac wouldn't forget to pick her up at the airport this time. And, hopefully, he wouldn't ask a lot of questions when she asked him to help her dodge customs... Looking at her watch, Amanda guessed she had close to an hour before it was dark enough to cloak her entry. Glancing around, the only place to spend that hour without raising attention, was the neighboring Zoo. "Guess I'll play nature girl for awhile", Amanda muttered as she paid her daily entry fee and began walking along the exhibits. Amanda walked towards a crowd of people gathered in a small huddle. As she pushed her way to gain a better view, Amanda gasped as a little man at the center held a smelly, cold snapping turtle under her nose. "Care to touch the rare Algerian King Snapper?" "Not hardly," Amanda grimaced, not sure what was worse, the turtle of the horrific polka dot tie the obnoxious little man was wearing around his pencil-thin neck. Amanda quickly retreated from the reptile's territory and continued walking down a small dirt path that meandered through the exotic Aviary. The further the path took Amanda, the more desolate the surrounding. Losing her sense of direction, Amanda noticed remodeling signs to her left. Hoping to ask directions from one of the work crewman, she made her way in the direction of plywood and saw horses. As she neared the first barricade, it was obvious the crew had shut down for the night. "Great," she grumbled, "guess I'm on my own." Turning to retrace her steps out of the work area, Amanda's ankle twisted into the long orange extension cord of a nearby Black and Decker rotary saw. Before she was able to regain her balance, Amanda fell face first into a slush of mud, water and saw dust. By the time Amanda was able to drag her soaking, sad self back to the dry path, the moon had begun to rise. "Great, if I don't get out of here soon, I'll never get into the museum before the night guard gets to his post!" Half running and half limping on her broken-heeled pumps, Amanda finally found her way back to the Zoo's exit--- which was soundly shut and padlocked. "It only gets better," she sputtered as she hitched up her skirt and began to climb over the iron gate. Nearly clear of the spiked ends of the uprights, Amanda's pantyhose snagged on an ornamental bob. A sheer tear and sudden twinge on bear skin and Amanda landed firmly on the outside of the gate. Tossing off her shoes and torn hose, Amanda ran towards the museum, trying to still make her mark. As she closed the distance towards the museum, Amanda saw lights still shown through the exterior windows. Puzzled, Amanda walked closer, only to see bold black print on a hand made sign: "Special Late Night Opening to raise funds for Chicago's Girl Scouts". Amanda stomped her left foot, hailed a cab and headed for the airport. Now, she really hoped Mac wouldn't forget to pick her up---and he better have a freezer full of fudge chocolate ice cream to help her drown her sorrows!!

My attempt at the midweek challenge.....

Posted by Harmony on Thursday, 6 April 2000, at 9:26 a.m.

"Hey MacLeod! Remember this?" Amanda asked.

She was rummaging through an old trunk in the dojo loft. Duncan turned around from the refrigerator to see her holding up the worn red and white polka dot bow tie that had been part of his costume when they did the old Barnum and Bailey gig back in the sixties.

"How could I possibly forget?" he quipped.

"Why the frown, Mackie-boy?" she teased, sidling up to him provocatively.

Duncan hated it when she used that old nickname Cory Raines had persisted on calling him. He gave Amanda a dirty look.

"I'm not frowning." He muttered as he turned back to the freezer and took out a pint of vanilla ice cream. He struggled to get the tight lid off the carton, only to discover a thin, yet almost impenetrable layer of plastic sheeting stood between him and the confectionery delight.

"You always frown when the circus subject comes up," she said.

"I do not!" he grimaced. He tried pulling the plastic off the ice cream from every angle and it wouldn't budge.

"Where's my sword?" he mumbled.

"Don't you kind of miss the old days? The roar of the grease paint, the smell of the crowd?" Amanda asked.

"No. As I recall, you always seemed to be just a step or two ahead of the law in those days. What am I talking about, you're always just a step ahead of the law."

"Very funny", she remarked.

"I seem to remember a run-in you had with the authorities over a snapping turtle. Ring any bells?" she questioned.

"It wasn't a snapping turtle, it was just a regular tortoise. And I didn't steal it; it was given to me. There was just a little misunderstanding."

"Yeah, right," she quipped.

Duncan momentarily gave up on the ice cream container, setting it on the counter. He walked over to the trunk and peeked inside. Something caught his eye. He pulled out a pair of old fishnet pantyhose and held them out to Amanda.

"You want to reminisce? How about these? I seem recall you being overly fond of these…..things," he remarked.

Amanda squealed with delight.

"Oh, I loved these! I thought I'd lost them. You know these are kind of like collector's items. You can't find them anymore."

"Thank God." Duncan muttered.

Amanda made a face at him.

"You're just like a man. You don't ever appreciate the finer things in life."

Duncan grabbed her around the waist and swung her into his arms.

"What do you mean…'I'm just like a man. I am a man, sweetheart, or have you forgotten?"

Amanda laughed.

"How could I possibly forget that?"

Duncan kissed her, taking the pantyhose from her grasp and tossing them back into the trunk. He led her over to the couch, sitting down and pulling her into his lap. He nuzzled her neck and suggested he refresh her memory.

"And let the ice cream melt? No way, Jose."

"I can't even get the damn thing open!" he uttered.

"Amanda got off his lap and walked to the closet, pulling out a Black and Decker drill.

"Here" she said. "Try this. Works like a charm every time."

Avoiding RL here's my attempt...

Posted by sinclair on Wednesday, 5 April 2000, at 10:21 p.m.

to Leah's mid week challenge.

The Welcome Back Rysher Tent Party was over.

Amanda stood surveying the mess. The boys were passed out on some cushions to one side. Mac was wearing his kilt and Methos, a toga that was revealingly askew.

She turned around at the sound of a deep rumble. Silas was propped against a tent pole, his head back as he snored loudly. In his flaccid hand was a pint container of Haagen Daz Chocolate chocolate chip ice cream. The last, of more than she wanted to think of, from the ice cream eating contest. Silas had won hands down. The melted remains dribbled out over his thighs. The rumbling was from his massive abdomen.

She wrinkled her nose.

Men! She would have to call her sweet sweet butler in to help with all of this.

Just then Cassandra walked out of the gloom. They looked at each other warily. Cassandra approached with her hands behind her back. Amanda shifted her stance, positioning her feet.

"Isn't it just like men to pass out before tidying up?" Cassandra said dryly, a small smile playing around her lips. "Don't you think we should make them pay?"

The gleam in her eyes told Amanda she had found a sister.

"My thoughts exactly. What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I've taken care of Kronos. He was sawing away fit to beat the band under a table back there. So I just rigged up a Black and Decker power saw on a timer." She paused and allowed the image to sink in. "It should give him a bit of a buzz in the morning."

Amanda guffawed.

"Well, I think old Silas will be punished enough by all the ice cream, so that just leaves those two over there."

She reached into her pocket.

"I don't really want to do anything terrible to them," she began, "Mac was so good about helping to set up... I just want to embarrass him a little."

Cassandra snorted.

Amanda held up a polka dotted bowtie.

"Well it's not a blue ribbon, but then he didn't win first prize," she said, referring to the song the two immortals had sung over and over until they had passed out that night.

She approached the sleeping Scot.

"What do you think we should do about Methos?" she asked over her shoulder as she tied it carefully in place.

"Oh, something similar," Cassandra said breezily as she revealed what had been behind her back.

"A snapping turtle?" Amanda shrieked, then stifled her giggles. "How on earth are you going to make sure it doesn't crawl away? Or wake him up before we can get away?"

Cassandra thought for a moment.

"Well I've put the turtle into a rest mode that should last until morning, but if Methos rolls over it'll just fall off." She looked at Amanda, then grinned.

"Quick, give me your pantyhose."

Okay here's mine, but promise me you won't have me committed after you read this....

Posted by SwingGirl on Wednesday, 5 April 2000, at 11:12 p.m.

I hope you all read this, but it might not make a whole lot of sense if you've never been to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show at a theater. Well, here goes nothing....

Methos walked into the movie theater, feeling quite out of place and extremely silly. "I can't believe that I let them talk me in to this," Methos muttered to himself. Just then, he felt the signal of another Immortal. He glanced around and saw the cause of it. Duncan MacLeod and Richie Ryan where seated in the first row of the theater, along with Joe Dawson.

The three men turned and saw him at exactly the same time. After all the cat calls, whistles, and giggles were done, Joe called to him "Hey, there you are! We'd almost given up on you showing. I must say that black teddy looks lovely on you, but what's with the panty hose? I thought Dr. Frank N. Furter wore fishnet stockings." As he looked at Methos again, Joe started to laugh once more.

"Oh, ha ha ha, Joe. I'm glad that you think this, the most embarrassing incident I've endured in all my 5000 years, is so hilarious."

Duncan, managing to keep a straight face, motioned him to sit. "Oh come on, it's Halloween. Lighten up and have some fun."

Methos, whining now, complained, "That's easy for you to say. You're not dressed like some street corner hooker. If you didn't dress up, you could have at least talked him into it," he said, pointing at Richie.

"Oh no, not me. They tried to get me to dress in a French maid's outfit and come as Magenta, but I don't think so. There's no way I'm dressing up in girls clothing." Richie looked at Methos and smirked, then laughed so long and so hard that he almost fell out of his seat.

Methos, disgusted and annoyed, got up to leave. "All right that's it. I am humiliated, I couldn't look more ridiculous if I were wearing nothing but a pair of blue and white polka dotted bikini underwear with a matching bow tie, and to top it all off, you're making fun of me. That's it! I think I'll go home now. I can play with my new pet snapping turtle Sparky and drown my sorrows in a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream. GOOD-BYE." Methos turned and walked up the aisle. He had made it to the lobby, but then he tripped over an electrical saw that one of the construction workers renovating the theater had left there. Thinking that things couldn't possibly get any worse, Methos got up and turned to leave. But suddenly he heard it. It was the "Time Warp"! Just as the music started, something came over him and he began to do the moves to the dance and then without warning, Methos found himself running down the aisle, knocking other dancers down in his rush to get to the front of the theater.

Richie, Duncan, and Joe just sat there, with their mouths hanging open in astonishment as Methos sang louder and danced more enthusiastically than anyone else in the theater: "LET'S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN!!!!"

The End

A wee hours of the morning try...

Posted by Ysanne on Thursday, 6 April 2000, at 12:16 a.m.

"I know I have some in here," MacLeod muttered to himself, rummaging through the tiny freezer compartment of the small refrigerator under the bar.

Unfortunately, there was no ice cream. And how could a Highland warrior watch the Christopher Lowell interior decorating show without a pint of pistachio at hand? He glanced at his pocket watch, judging that he could get to the store and back in just under fifteen minutes, and hurriedly pulled on his duster. Automatically checking his katana space as he ran up the steps of the barge, he didn't notice the puddle of oil that had leaked from his Black and Decker chain saw.

His size eleven boot slipped in the oil and passersby were treated to his flailing dance across the deck, followed by a whoop, and a loud splash. Several Parisians walking on the quay sneered in derision as the tall man hauled himself from the Seine, only to lose his grip on the slimy rope and fall back into the dark water. How unseemly, they thought, just like a foreigner, especially an Englishman.

Most of them didn't look back as the tall, wet foreigner howled in pain. However, an older gentleman in a navy polka dot tie ran to the edge of the river with his small granddaughter and peered over. MacLeod was clinging to the rope with one hand, his other hand being occupied by a medium-sized snapping turtle, which had latched on to his thumb. An impressive string of curses were filling the air around the hapless victim, some of them in languages other than French. Annoyed at this breach of good taste, the man took his granddaughter by the hand and marched her away.

"Remember, child," he admonished her, "our mother tongue is the only one suitable for civilized discourse. Otherwise, one may as well speak English as the barbarians do."

Having taught the interloper a lesson, the turtle let go of MacLeod's thumb and fell into the river with a splash. Whimpering, MacLeod laboriously pulled himself up with his good hand and sat, dripping, on the pavement until his wound healed.

"Damn turtle," he said under his breath, casting a guilty glance over his shoulder in case any member of the French SPCA was around.

He fished his watch out of his trouser pocket and shook it, relieved to see that it was still running faithfully and he had five minutes before Christopher's show began. He slogged back to the barge, skirting the oil carefully, and went below, peeling off layers of fishy-smelling clothing. He took a two minute shower and hopped over to turn on the TV, his briefs caught on one foot.

The sound of a tree crashing to the forest floor echoed through the barge, along with another howl of anguish. Methos paused on the deck above, re-thinking his plan to visit Mac with a little peace offering. It didn't sound like a good time for dropping in, somehow. On the other hand, he knew Mac would have felt his presence, so he shrugged and opened the door.

"Honey, I'm ho-ome," he sang out brightly, then noticed the sword sticking up from behind Mac's bed. In a moment a tousled head with a purple lump on its brow came into view, and Methos was staring at a pouting, embarrassed, scantily-clad Highlander.

"Very funny," MacLeod spat, glowering at his uninvited guest as he donned a huge white robe and belted it securely.

"Busy?" Methos inquired politely, "I could come back later..."

"Never mind," MacLeod sighed, "just make yourself at home. But I warn you, no talking during my show."

"Fine, fine," Methos said placatingly, "but would it be all right to eat quietly? I brought ice cream for both of us."

Out of a string bag he pulled a pint of pistachio and one of vanilla, then a jar of hot fudge, two plastic spoons and a few paper napkins. MacLeod felt his eyes misting, and he blinked rapidly. Damn head wounds, he thought, they always make me emotional. He smiled at Methos and took the offered treat, then cleared a spot on the wide bed for the old guy. The two men sat cross-legged, spooning their sundaes companionably, as the show began.

"Pantyhose!" Christopher Lowell chirped, holding out a hairy leg wearing a pair of sheer black ones, "Plywood and old pantyhose! Stay tuned as we show you exactly how you can make a FABulous home entertainment center with those two things, plus a little imagination. You can DO it!"

Methos turned his head slowly to stare at MacLeod in consternation. "What in god's name are we watching, MacLeod?"

"Well, you're always telling me I need to keep busy, Methos, and Joe says I need to refurnish the barge so a person can sit down on something besides the floor, and..." the earnest voice faded away, and Mac blushed. Then the Scot met Methos' eyes proudly, defiantly. "And I LIKE interior decorating, dammit! Do you have a problem with that?"

"Oh, no, no, nothing like," Methos lied, wondering how long it took for a head wound to heal on a very hard Scottish skull. In the meantime, he'd just stay and keep an eye on the boy.

One of these days, I'll have developed the sense not to participate in these debacles.

Posted by HonorH the Arctic Wolfe on Thursday, 6 April 2000, at 12:29 a.m.

This is not that day.

The Immortal buzz faded into the sound of a Black & Decker cordless screwdriver as Nick Wolfe entered Amanda's apartment.

"&$%*," said Amanda.

"Good morning to you, too," Nick returned. He set the bag he was carrying down on the coffee table.

"It's these stupid shelves," grumbled Amanda, and Nick got a good look at what she was doing. Or rather, attempting to do: attach a large shelf to her wall.

Nick shucked his jacket. "Here, let me help."

Amanda gladly stepped back, allowing the male of the species to go about his appointed duty. Quickly, while his back was turned, she began picking up the apartment. An empty Pinot Noir bottle and a glass with a ring around it went into the kitchen, a pair of black pantyhose was thrown into the bedroom, a bag of thief gear was stowed in a closet, and two pair of shoes went back into their appointed slots in her walk-in. By the time she was finished, the shelf was up.

"So what's this for?" asked Nick.

"Drusilla," answered Amanda, indicating a medium-sized terrarium with a baby turtle in it.

"Aw, how cute--#%&^! Ow, that hurt!" Nick jerked his hand back out of the cage.

"I did mention she's a snapping turtle, didn't I?"

Nick gave her a baleful look, then appeared to swallow whatever comment he was thinking of making and manfully lifted the terrarium to its appointed perch. Then he went back to the bag he'd left on the end table and retrieved two pints of Haagen-Dasz chocolate-chocolate chip.

Amanda received one with interest. "Let's see--you're helping me with my shelves and buying me chocolate . . . darling, could it be you want something from me?"

Nick gave her that look that made her melt every time. "Well, here's how it is--I've got this cousin, and he's a really sweet guy, and really smart, and he desperately needs a date for his company dinner tonight . . ."

A few hours later, Amanda was dressed to the nines and ready to go out.

"Howard," she said, musing on her date's name. "Hmm. That's not a name that gives much away."

"He's a terrific guy, Amanda," Nick reassured her. "He just has trouble meeting nice girls."

"And you're setting him up with me?" Amanda raised her eyebrows teasingly. "Oh, well. How bad can it be?"

The doorbell rang. Amanda smoothed her dress one last time, checked her reflection in the mirror, opened the door . . .

And stared in mute shock at the apparition that greeted her. A squat, fat man with an abundance of unkempt red curls and thick glasses greeted her. Not even his hair, horrendous as it was, though, could distract from his tuxedo.

It was purple. And if that wasn't enough, he'd paired it with a green-and-orange polka-dotted cummerbund and matching bow tie.

"Hi! I'm Howard," he greeted in a high, nasal voice. "Wow. Nick was right. You're a lot of woman!" Howard licked his lips.

Amanda turned from the doorway to Nick Wolfe. I will get you for this someday, her look promised. Oh, yes, you will pay for this--even if it takes me another thousand years.

Hall of HonorH

I'm up for the midweek challenge(Rated R).

Posted by Lone Writer MacWoW, MacAINT,c-i-w, 5th Horseman on Wednesday, 19 April 2000, at 8:57 p.m.

I should be ashamed, but I'm not. Sometimes, I have a dirty mind.........

lw --------------------------------------------------

Richie knew something was wrong, he thought he thought knew everything about Duncan but when he walked into the barge, he saw something that shocked him to his very core. Duncan was standing on the bed wearing only a polka doted tie and panty house. Amanda was lying down on the bed with a pint of ice cream in one hand and a snapping turtle in the other. Richie started to sneak off as quickly and as quietly as he could, thinking he had seen it all. Then he noticed Methos pop out from underneath the sheet with a Black and Decker power drill in his hand. Richie didn't even try to conceal hisself, he just turned and ran for the door as fast as he could.

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