"Not more drabbles!" I hear you groan.
Sep. 23rd, 2003 09:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darcydodoSorry. If anyone feels like complaining about the constant drabbling, go ahead, and I'll stop posting them. Or I'll backdate them so they don't appear on people's friends lists. But for now, previous McSweeny drabbles are here, and I'm still having fun. :)
The Wrong Mantras
On the plane from England, Wesley thought one thing, over and over. I'll prove myself here, father. Not two months later, he had failed. Later, hunting demons from the saddle of his motorcycle, a familiar phrase wormed its way into his mind. I must prove myself here. And when Angel took him in, the words pounded still more loudly in his skull. But a year later, when the Host seemed so unsurprised to hear of his promotion, the promotion his father had scorned, Wesley realized the words in his head had been wrong. I've found a new family, he thought.
Suggestions from Baedeker's 1878 Traveller's Manual of Conversation
There were sounds of scrabbling outside the door, as of someone trying to insert their key into the lock too hastily to actually perform the necessary task. Presently, Xander dashed in, tossing his briefcase in the corner, unbuttoning his shirt as he ran.
"Sorry! Rained on the blueprints!" he gasped as he barreled toward the bedroom.
Anya eyed him with a certain amount of annoyance. "You are never punctual and always have very bad excuses to give."
Xander paused in his mad dash and looked at her with a vague air of bewildered awe. "You say the strangest things, dear."
Alternative Winter Olympics
It's snowing. Really snowing. Dawn sits by the window, knees tucked up under her chin, scrawny arms wrapped around gangly adolescent legs, and stares avidly at the delicate white flakes that drift, more slowly than can possibly be believed, from the leaden sky. Buffy has said that she will take Dawn ice-skating for Christmas morning, but she's been gone all night and not returned with what Dawn can only assuming is the morning; the heavy clouds have swallowed up any sign that Christmas Eve has shifted into day. So instead she draws stick-figure snowmen on the steamy windowpane. Merry Christmas.
Signs on the Lawns of People Whose Lawns You May Want to Avoid
"Any ideas what kind of demon slices and dices and leaves really ragged edges?" Buffy inquired of her Watcher as she entered the Magic Box. The bell above the door jangled.
Giles shook his head, frowning. "Nothing comes to mind that matches what you've described." He took off his glasses and wiped them absentmindedly. "Perhaps a trip to the scene of the, ah, slicing-and-dicing would be in order."
Later, the Scoobies stood in an orderly line at the edge of a bright green lawn, into which was planted a sign that read, "This grass protected by Kaasaver demons. KEEP OFF."
Roman Emperors of Questionable Mental Health, Or Leafy Green Vegetables?
"That's a relief," Xander said as they entered the cafeteria.
Willow glanced curiously at him. "What?"
"Well, they've got nicely unambiguous carrots listed for the vegetables today. Yesterday they had cauliflower, and the day before it was Caesar salad."
"Sound normal to me, Xander," Willow answered, then added thoughtfully, "Though they didn't taste normal."
"Yeah, but wasn't Cauliflower also one of those crazy Roman emperors? And I know Caesar was something we heard about in history. Figured Mrs. Weinstock was trying to get the caf to do her dirty work of teaching."
Willow giggled. "Xander, that was Caligula. Not Cauliflower."
The Wrong Mantras
On the plane from England, Wesley thought one thing, over and over. I'll prove myself here, father. Not two months later, he had failed. Later, hunting demons from the saddle of his motorcycle, a familiar phrase wormed its way into his mind. I must prove myself here. And when Angel took him in, the words pounded still more loudly in his skull. But a year later, when the Host seemed so unsurprised to hear of his promotion, the promotion his father had scorned, Wesley realized the words in his head had been wrong. I've found a new family, he thought.
Suggestions from Baedeker's 1878 Traveller's Manual of Conversation
There were sounds of scrabbling outside the door, as of someone trying to insert their key into the lock too hastily to actually perform the necessary task. Presently, Xander dashed in, tossing his briefcase in the corner, unbuttoning his shirt as he ran.
"Sorry! Rained on the blueprints!" he gasped as he barreled toward the bedroom.
Anya eyed him with a certain amount of annoyance. "You are never punctual and always have very bad excuses to give."
Xander paused in his mad dash and looked at her with a vague air of bewildered awe. "You say the strangest things, dear."
Alternative Winter Olympics
It's snowing. Really snowing. Dawn sits by the window, knees tucked up under her chin, scrawny arms wrapped around gangly adolescent legs, and stares avidly at the delicate white flakes that drift, more slowly than can possibly be believed, from the leaden sky. Buffy has said that she will take Dawn ice-skating for Christmas morning, but she's been gone all night and not returned with what Dawn can only assuming is the morning; the heavy clouds have swallowed up any sign that Christmas Eve has shifted into day. So instead she draws stick-figure snowmen on the steamy windowpane. Merry Christmas.
Signs on the Lawns of People Whose Lawns You May Want to Avoid
"Any ideas what kind of demon slices and dices and leaves really ragged edges?" Buffy inquired of her Watcher as she entered the Magic Box. The bell above the door jangled.
Giles shook his head, frowning. "Nothing comes to mind that matches what you've described." He took off his glasses and wiped them absentmindedly. "Perhaps a trip to the scene of the, ah, slicing-and-dicing would be in order."
Later, the Scoobies stood in an orderly line at the edge of a bright green lawn, into which was planted a sign that read, "This grass protected by Kaasaver demons. KEEP OFF."
Roman Emperors of Questionable Mental Health, Or Leafy Green Vegetables?
"That's a relief," Xander said as they entered the cafeteria.
Willow glanced curiously at him. "What?"
"Well, they've got nicely unambiguous carrots listed for the vegetables today. Yesterday they had cauliflower, and the day before it was Caesar salad."
"Sound normal to me, Xander," Willow answered, then added thoughtfully, "Though they didn't taste normal."
"Yeah, but wasn't Cauliflower also one of those crazy Roman emperors? And I know Caesar was something we heard about in history. Figured Mrs. Weinstock was trying to get the caf to do her dirty work of teaching."
Willow giggled. "Xander, that was Caligula. Not Cauliflower."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-09-24 04:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-24 04:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-24 04:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-24 05:13 am (UTC)Arugula probably was a mad Roman emperor for whom condemnatio actually succeeded, just for once, so that we don't know of his existence. :)
Learning Marsh Flowers right now. :)
no subject
Date: 2003-09-24 07:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-24 07:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-24 10:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-24 10:23 am (UTC)You could have a separate user for drabbles, like
no subject
Date: 2003-09-24 04:08 pm (UTC)I am, however, adding them to a webpage, so I might direct people there after a while instead.
no subject
Date: 2003-09-24 12:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-24 04:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-09-24 04:40 pm (UTC)I need very badly to brush my teeth.
no subject
Date: 2003-09-24 04:57 pm (UTC)I need very badly to brush my teeth.
Oh, me too. I should do something about this. :)