The Jellicle Chronicles – Year Nine RIOOK! (A Parody) By Rio With a little futzing by Rumblepurr (Naturally)

"Wh-what's going on?" Rumblepan stumbled out from beneath the swathes of blankets, blinking blearily around. He didn't remember much of the previous night apart from Mountain Dew and lots of it.

And going towards the light.

Then the light had run away to pee.

That was the moment in which he had decided it might be a good time to lay down and take the weight of his sugar-fogged brain. The light had returned and he was convinced his blankety nest had started to fly.

Then stopped, so the light could nip to the loo again.

Staring at his surroundings, the brown and white tabby felt like he had been thrown onto a very expensive-looking Gameberg film set. Either that, or his fizzy drink-induced hallucinations had kindly deposited him in Pirates of The Caribbean at Disneyland.

Half-conscious and badly-dressed moggies slumped everywhere. Some had eye-patches, some had fake legs (their real ones were 'hidden' under their coats cos we don't want to deprive our cast of limbs...do we? Whatever. It all looked very fake, which is explained by our less-than-huge budget), all of them looked like they were into method acting, judging by the number of beer bottles/grog barrels/Guiness tankers that were visible, peeking out from behind the old-fashioned looking props.

"Get down! Rumble! Hide!" A shrill squeak of a voice called. Looking around, he spotted a small, graceful white figure in a pink tutu and bikini running out of the blankets, a long strip of toilet paper hanging from the back of her underwear.

"What are you meant to be?"

The white thing, which also had rather nifty, spangly bullet-proof wings that were accidentally forgotten about in the previous paragraphs, gestured for him to come closer. "I'm Tinklewell and I'm meant to... excuse me!"

She darted away through a tiny doorway in the side of a barrel. Rumblepan bent and peered at the door. It had a tiny 'Ladies' sign over it. The white thing emerged a second later, making certain her briefs were straight. "Uh... what was that about?"

"There's this thing about fairies," Fluffing the pink tutu, the thing fluttered up level with his face and stared closely at him. "We tend to have very literal names. My parents were in the middle of a messy divorce when they had me, which is why I have such a dodgy..." She darted back down to the door, and then reappeared beside his head an instant later. "Tinklewell by name, tinkle profusely by nature." She cocked her head. "Don't you remember me, Rumble?"

The tabby stared at her, and then cleared his throat. "I think I would remember a fairy dressed in pink with a bladder problem."

"Pink?" She looked bewildered, then looked down at her costume. "Ohh! No. I don't usually wear this...normally, I wear white leather and carry a whip at all times, but I had to do my laundry today."

"I don't have a clue who you are."

"Don't you even remember that dodgy curry we had back in 1982?" She mournfully blinked up at him. "That kept us both on the W.C. for almost three days..." She sighed. "That was the longest I ever saw you in one place for..." There was a buzz as she darted down to the small toilets again. "You know why you're here, though?" She asked on her return.

Rumblepan looked confused. "Here?"

"Neverspeller Land."

"You mean this isn't just Pirates of the Caribbean?" He pointed at a group of tourists taking photos over one of the security barriers. "Are they meant to be there?"

Tinklewell groaned. "Look, now that you've ruined the secret of our budget, we have an estimated two hours before Security will react, so will you please let me get on with the script, pretty please?"

"All right."

"This whole land is under the control of an very evil person, as all stories seem to usually have one of them." This speech was, of course, punctuated by several toilet breaks, but we will ignore them for the time being. "This person won't let anyone but herself write anything. Then, someone reminded her of you... she wanted a challenge..."

"Can I say huh?"

"Does it say it in the script?" Rumblepan flicked quickly through the booklet in his hands, skimming down to the spot they were on the page. He nodded. "Okay."

"Huh?"

Tinklewell folded her hands and started to explain. "You're Rumblepan, you were this evil-and-nasty person's one-time arch-nemisis. You were the only person who could outdo her in writing and everything."

"Me? Write?" Rumblepan took a step back and inadvertedly smacked squarely into one of the expensive cameras. "I can't write..."

Tinklewell punched him fondly on the shoulder, unaware that her sheer magickness made her super-strong. Rumblepan soared across the set, smashing through several windows in the process. The fairy sighed. "Why couldn't he have forgotten how to fly, like a normal person?"

Shakily getting to his feet, the striped tom shook his head. "Wh-why am I here?" He asked, staying clear of the dainty white fairy's powerful fist.

"Here's the thing... you remember that nasty-and-evil person I mentioned?" Rumblepan nodded cautiously. "She's taken something of value to you, in order for you to be here..."

"You don't mean..."

"I do..."

"Surely not..."

"It's true..."

"Please... no... not the buttons! Not my gumdrop buttons!" Falling to his knees, Rumblepan grasped the fairy's delicate paw in his. "Tell me its not true..."

"Say you're only dreaming?"

"Say it’s all pretend! Say it’s just the end... of an old movie... with Marilyn Munroe." A huge orchestral crescendo sounded and Rumblepan squealed in terror. "No! We're not going to sing! No way!"

Tinklewell nodded. "Thank goodness that's not what the evil-and-nasty person wants you to do." She remarked. "But, yes, its true... she has your most precious and beloved belonging. I would have told you last night, but..."

"I know, I know... sugar high..." Sinking to his knees, Rumblepan buried his face in his hands. "I have to save them, Tinkle... what do I have to do?"

"Um... how about we just go and do the confrontation thing?" The fairy said evasively and the Tom was certain she was avoiding his gaze. "I'm sure the evil-and-nasty person wants to fill you in on it herself."

As if on cue - which it actually was, for once! - they spotted a short, white and gold tom exiting a door with a pillow held above his head, a dazzling, gold pen resting on it. Weaving his way between the crowd, the little tom waved to the ladies, who threw pillows at him.

Fluttering up to Rumblepan's efficiently... uh... borrowed pirate-hat that made up part of his nifty disguise, as stolen from one of Ye Drunke Ande Unconsciouse Pirates(tm), Tinklewell sat in the front of the tricorn hat, and called. "Follow that pen!"

Despite a feeling that 'taxi' had a better ring than 'pen', Rumblepurr obeyed the orders of the toilet-troubled Tinklewell.

Around them, dazed pirates had taken up a cry, as they lumbered their way towards the great, big, expensive-looking ship. (Hey! That ship only has one side!" Rumblepan noted to Tinklewell). "It's called a prop, doofus." Tinklewell replied.)

Joining the mad rush to be on the part of the ship that actually existed, Rumplepan sneakily snuck into a hidey hole to watch as the small white and gold tom disappeared through a doorway with the pen.

For some reason, there was a small flash of fireworks as the pen was picked up against a black back-ground.

"Good morning, Neverspeller Land!" The white and gold tom appeared again. (That's Mister Pre-Smee." Tinklewell whispered). He did a series of bad jokes, was pelted with fruit, and then stepped aside, as he yelled. "Captain C. S. Riook!"

Rumblepan gaped at the figure who had emerged through the door. Dressed in an extremely gaudy “I'm a Pirate Captain" costume (Mail-ordered from Amazot.com for $35), the Queen straightened gold-rimmed glasses and smirked around and - apparently to the rest of the pirates around him - looked absolutely perfect in every way.

"That's my enemy?" The tabby hissed at the fairy-cat in the hat.

"Captain C. S. Riook." Tinklewell nodded with a shiver of fear.

Rumblepan sniggered. "What kind of literary villain name is Riook, for Rumpus' sake?"

"Can you think of a better one?" The fairy inquired pointedly, silencing the tabby, as the red-maned pirate captain began to speak in a very bizarre accent that very few people could actually understand.

"Who is the Leader here?"

"RIOOK!" The crew shouted.

"Who defeated Pan once before..."

"RIOOK!"

An exasperated look crossed the red queen's face. "Pre-Smee, were are the cue cards?" She asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. The little tom hurriedly lifted a large sign with her name printed on it. "Okay, let's try that again... Who defeated Pan once before and reduced him to attempting to write magazine articles in the human world?" There was a silence, until she jabbed Pre-Smee in the ribs and he raised the card high.

"RIOOK!"

"Who sent the T.H.I.S.T.H.E.S.T.U.P.I.D.E.S.T.T.H.I.N.G.I.H.A.V.E.E.V.E.R.W.R.I.T.T.E.N into hiding, where they have remained these last bunch of years... apart from those graffiti incidents on Pre-Smee's Dinghy, even if it hasn't be proven in court that it wasn't the Pre-Smee hate-club?"

"RIOOK!"

"Who went to the other world, and stole the only inspiration that Rumblepan still had?"

"RIOOK!"

"And who, when in the mood, can write a thirteen page interlude per chapter of Rumblepan's old Chronicles, averaging about six thousand, six hundred words each, with the option of additional smaller scenes written anonymously and shoved in for the sole purpose of perplexing and confusing everyone?"

"Er..."

"Well..."

"Was that...?"

"Hmm..."

Riook smacked her hands down on the banister. "Hello! Its me, you idiots!" She shrieked furiously. "ME! You know? She who banned writing by anyone else? Me, who writes everything and anything?"

There was a momentary pause. Cautiously, Pre-Smee raised the cue card.

"RIOOK!"

"I give up... raise the net." A computer was hauled up the main mast, the Internet Explorer sign blinking on the monitor. Riook looked at it, then lowered her face and started delicately smacking her forehead on the banister rail. "I... [thud]... don't... [thud]... believe... [thud] ... it... [thud]..." Forcing a pained smile, she grabbed Pre-Smee by the ear. "What is *that*?"

Pre-Smee whimpered. "I raised the net..."

"I meant the literal net, y'know...the one with Rumplepan's inspiration in it? Not the flippin' internet, you daft wazzock."

Pre-Smee rubbed his ear and hopefully said. "But at least the net's actually up for once..."

"Valid point, but when I'm trying to be intimidating, I don't want to look stupid." Pre-Smee started to say something, but Rio's black hand rose to silence him. "Don't even think about saying it." She gestured to a trapdoor. "Raise the actual net."

A net was hoisted up the mast, containing...

"THAT'S MINE!" Rumblepan threw himself forward with a girly squeal.

"RUMBLE!" Tinklewell squealed in a manly way, revealing her secret identity as a member of the Village People.

Riook squinted down at the tabby who was staggering towards the net. "Pre-Smee, what on earth is that?"

"Looks like a cat, boss."

[THWACK!]

"Er... its Rumblepan!"

Several dopey-looking pirates grabbed at the tabby, hauling him at the bottom of the steps in front of the red Queen. "Pre-Smee, the carpet..." The Tom stamped and a fantastic, fluffy white carpet appeared on the stairs. "For those of you who wondered what happened to Griddlebone, when she tried to write against me..." She gestured to the stairs with an evil leer.

Several people flinched, but Rumblepan didn't notice, his eyes fixed on the net that was packed full to over-flowing with his cans of Mountain Dew. His last sugar rush was starting to fade with the digestion of his caffeinated, lime-green muse.

"Is it really you?" The red queen was peering at him. "My great and unworthy oppo... well, not unworthy opponent. My only rival. The only person who dared to try and wrote more than me in the course of a month..."

Rumblepan squirmed. "I never wrote anything! I can't write!"

"Pre-Smee?"

The little Tom hurried forward, a folder in his hand. "After you gave him that knock on the head, during the hostile takeover the yard, he lost his memory and has been resorting to the Dew to give him any kind of inspiration."

"Seriously?" Riook's eyes lit up. "How cool!" A wicked chuckle sounded and many of the crew shivered. Rumblepan couldn't help thinking that perhaps they had been paid to do so. "Well, Rumble, dear Rumble, if you want your Dew back, there's something you must do."

"What? I'll do anything! Anything!"

Riook smugly rubbed black-furred hands together, a faintly evil smirk on her lips. "To liberate your liquid muse, you must write a convincing scene, in which you rescue your cans dramatically. If you succeed, you and your muse are free to go."

"You... you evil, monster!"

Rubbing her claws on her lapel, Riook examined them with a smug smirk. "Ain't I just?"

"You know I can't write."

"Like Duh! As if I'd bring you back here to make me look stupid... and don't even think about saying it, Pre-Smee." Riook patted Rumblepan's cheek. "You're the only person with a reputation to match my own... although I'm the more evil and villainous and so on... so, if I prove I can write more than you, well... I'll have your reputation as well."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Tinklewell popped up in front of Riook's face. "Give the dude a break. I have a proposition for you."

"No way, Sparkles. I'm not that was inclined!"

"Perv!"

"I have a first mate called Press Me... what on earth gave you the idea that I was a pervert?"

The fairy scowled at the red queen. "Since you've taken Rumble's muse, give us three hours to get him back in shape, then you'll see who can write more."

"You mean that I should let him find and reunite those troublesome idiots that make up the T.H.I.S.I.S.T.H.E.S.T.U.P.I.D.E.S.T.T.H.I.N.G.I.H.A.V.E.E.V.E.R.W.R.I.T.T.E.N. and see if they can actually kick start something in that skull of his?" Riook nodded thoughtfully, scratching her chin. "You know I can tell when it’s not his work, though."

"Can't everyone?" Tinklewell agreed. She landed on the bottom of the banister and talked up to the red. "If T.H.I.S.T.H.E.S.T.U.P.I.D.E.S.T.T.H.I.N.G.I.H.A.V.E.E.V.E.R.W.R.I.T.T.E.N. can't make him any kind of competition to you, I'll agree that you're the best writer, okay?"

A wide grin lit up Riook's face. "I like that deal." She said. "All right, Tinkle, you've got three hours and if you fail, you'll move into my ship, where I'll be able taunt you day and night about what a loser your friend is."

Reluctantly, the fairy looked up at Rumblepan, then shook the pen-wielding pirate's hand. "You better pull through, Rumble..." Sprinkling the tabby with dust, she grabbed the twitching tom by the ear and flew off, taking him with her, the tabby's eyes never leaving the Mountain Dew that swung slowly from side-to-side, high above the deck.

"This is Rumblepan?"

Tinklewell had deposited the brown and white tabby in the middle of the open area of his former head quarters and had retreated to her own personal bathroom, leaving his former allies to creep out, prodding at the twitching figure.

The middle of a wooded clearing, tracks ran around the center, for what the tabby couldn't say. Small huts were visible in the trees, a series of crude-looking desks piled with paper and pens nearby. This where his surroundees had withdrawn to.

"I s'pose so." Crossed blue eyes stared warily up at those surrounding him. The black Queen wearing a very Tarzan-esque outfit gave him a bright grin. "Hi Rumble. Nice to finally have you back with us."

Rocking back and forth, the tabby whimpered. "Who are you?"

"Us?" A silver queen with a red mane and reddish-leopard spots patterning her coat neared, similarly attired to the black. "Well... if you don't remember who THE Sundancer is, you won't know T.H.I.S.I.S.T.H.E.S.T.U.P.I.D.E.S.T.T.H.I.N.G.I.H.A.V.E.E.V.E.R.W.R.I.T.T.E.N."

"T.H.I.S.I.S.T.H.E.S.T.U.P.I.D.E.S.T.T.H.I.N.G.I.H.A.V.E.E.V.E.R.W.R.I.T.T.E.N.? What does th-that mean?"

A black and red queen grimaced, a shiver running through her. "There's a reason we use an abbreviation."

"Apart from that none of us can remember what it actually means." A creamy-brown queen put in helpfully. "Can anyone remember?"

A black and white tabby Queen nodded. "Let me introduce all of us." She said, clearing her throat. "We are... The Hyper-Intelligent, Super, Incredibly Sexy..." This was said with a communal preen. "Talented, Humungously Excitable Select Team (Under Pan's Intellectually Disciplined Educational System) That Takes Hilarious Ideas (Not Generally Incredible) Hoping That A Very Entertaining Edition Vill Ensue. Riling Writer Riook Is The Top Explanation Now."

"Vill?"

There was a muted silence for several seconds. Then, the black Queen said helplessly.

"Damn typo demon."

"Now you see why we usually stick with all the letters instead," the black and red queen mumbled again. "Alternatively, we're called the Lost Writers, but nooooooooooo... everyone ignores the Canadian's suggestion for a name."

Brushing himself down, Rumblepan's loss suddenly hit him. "My Dew!" Grabbing the nearest person, who happened to be a tall brown-and-rust tom. "My Dew! That evil thing has my canned muse and I can't get it back!"

"Meli!" Backing away from the hysterical Rumblepan, the Tom thrust his silvery sister between him and the striped tom who was rapidly regressing into withdrawal. "Make him stop! Make the scary Tom stop!"

"Easy, Firefyn." The black Queen approached cautiously. "Rumble, can you hear me?" The Tom's eyes swiveled to her, panic-stricken. "Look, we're going to help you, okay... just let go of Firefyn's tail..."

"You promise?" The Tom waved the tail reprovingly at her.

"Of course." Rumblepan released the tail, still twitching, when he heard a thunder of wheels and every cat in the vicinity looked up, startled.

"O-Rio!" All voices yelled, as a figure went screaming down the tracks on a skateboard, out-of-control red hair streaming behind her like the tail of a comet. Like the rest of the group, she was clad in the strangest clothes that looked like they had been salvaged from a charity shop and, in repairs, something had gone horribly wrong.

A chant was taken up (cos the writer feels like flattering herself and actually sticking to the film scenarios for once). "O-Rio! O-Rio! O-Ri-Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!" With a nifty little leap onto a trapeze, spin and double flip, she landed on her feet in front of Rumblepan, her stunt double furtively scurrying off before it was noticed.

"Hey! You're Riook!" Rumblepurr yelled, lunging at her.

The red Queen hastily backed away from him. "Don't be silly! I'm the cynical sidekick of the good guy!" She gave the rest of the group a wide grin. "Right, guys? I do all the writing now. I'm the *Pun*. Like we can help this loser..."

"She *is* Riook! She is!" The tabby screamed.

"That could cause some issues later in the script..." Sundancer murmured. "In the film, Hook kills Rufio..."

"But this is our story so no one dies, do they?" A creme-point Queen peered at the red Queen.

"Look, I'm the writer." Hands on her hips, pens stuck in her twisted-up hair. "I can do what I bleedin' well want to! Now, get on with humiliating and reducing the weird tabby to a wibbling wreck at my presence." She gave an evil laugh.

Amity peered at her. "You know, I think Rumble might be right."

"You want me to erase your character?" O-Rio withdrew a pen and notepad from her back pocket. "I can do it, Amity..."

"Okay, okay! I'll behave." The notebook vanished and the red Queen looked suitably appeased, smoothing her mussed her.

Rumblepan was still twitching somewhat. "How am I meant to write? How am I meant to save my muse? How? Howhowhowhow?" A gentle slap from Sundancer stopped him. "But I can't write! I can't!"

"Rumble," Sorelli gave him a gentle pat on the back. "No offence, buddy, but I think the Dew's rotted your brain. You used to write, write better than all of us, in fact..." O-Rio cleared her throat, significantly withdrawing a gleaming silver pen from her belt. "No! I'm not going to be the one to say that line!"

"Hey, you were the one who missed being humiliated in the last parody." Altaica gave the black and red a smirk and a poke. "Say the line."

Sorelli hissed at the tabby Queen, then flatly muttered. "O-Riosthebestwriterintheworldnow."

"So they can hear yoo-ou." Altaica sang.

"O-Rio... is the best..." Sorelli looked like she was going to be physically sick. "She's the best writer in the world now... since you went..."

O-Rio preened smugly. "I hold Pun's pen now! I'm the Pun...you think old Wibbly there is gonna take it from me? O-Rio?"

"Uh...?"

"Do we want an Oreo?"

"Am I the only person who missed that completely?"

Seeing the communal look of complete confusion, O-Rio sighed. "That's translated as 'I'm the better writer and until he proves that he's the better writer, I get to keep his pen as proof that I'm better, okay?"

"That can't be good for the self-esteem." Melinshade observed.

"What? Her holding his pen or what?" O-Rio hastily muffled a loud snigger at Sundancer's words. "O-Rio! You pervert!"

O-Rio clapped her paw over her mouth, her eyes dancing. "S'not my fault." She mumbled around her paw. "I studied Freud... male dominance in a patriarchal society being placed on the role of a pen in a parody... oy..."

"H-how can we stop her?"

"Do we even have to ask if he's talking about O-Rio and/or Riook?"

Rumblepurr stared fixedly at the pen in the red's hand. "I want my pen back. I want to defeat the evil Riook and be proclaimed a good writer once again!" He leapt to his feet with a triumpant shout. "I will succeed!"

"Uh... huh..."

"Isn't he just a little bit too optimistic to be a hero?" Altaica inquired of Sundancer, who shrugged and looked bewildered.

"How long have we got to get him in shape, Tinklewell?" Tailkinker called.

The fairy sped out of the toilet. "Three hours minus one and sixteen minutes and thirty two seconds," she squeaked, and then vanished back towards her little bathroom.

"Okay..." Hands on her hips, Sundancer looked around at the assembled group. "One thing is very clear now..."

"That we don't have much time?" Amity suggested.

Taleweaver nodded. "That we should get to work?"

"That its lunch time?" O-Rio put in hopefully.

"I was thinking," Sundancer pinched the bridge of her nose. "That we should find out who has been feeding Tinkle laxitives in her lunch again... but now that you mention the Rumble thing, we do only have set time for a little while."

Rumblepan, who had started building a mud-castle, looked up. "Nothing you can say will make me write." He said miserably.

"Now *there's* our typical hero." Altaica blew out a sigh of relief. "For a minute there, I thought we were going to have an easy resolution and fluffy happiness going on." She shuddered. "Stuff like that is just totally wrong."

"Hey! Come and take a look at this!" Sorelli called from the telescope, which coincidentally happened to be pointed at the infamous Riook's cabin. Funnily enough, no one seemed to notice that O-Rio had vanished.

Rumblepan was hauled over to the telescope and peered out to see a very breathless Riook opening a can of his Mountain Dew. Gulping it down, the Queen turned in the direction of the telescope, licked her lips and mouthed "My Mountain Dew."

"My Mountain Dew!" Rumblepan whimpered. "That's it! I'm going to write!" He stormed over towards the nearest desk and started to write.

And screwed the sheet of paper up in a ball, tossing it away.

And started writing again.

And tossed it away again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Most of T.H.I.S.I.S.T.H.E.S.T.U.P.I.D.E.S.T.T.H.I.N.G.I.H.A.V.E.E.V.E.R.W.R.I.T.T.E.N. had given up on Rumblepan after another hour. Ball upon ball of paper was heaped up around him, but still, he hadn't come up with a unique idea.

Several of them were snoring in corners. Sundancer was doodling patterns for her next living room design on scraps of paper, including some rather nifty peg-on-the-shelf lamps. One of these days, she mused, they would actually get electricity like the rest of the set.

Rumblepan got to his feet and plodded away towards the pond, looking for some kind of inspiration, a sheet held in his hand. He rounded the corner and immediately started writing something down.

Seconds later, the paper was balled and he threw it hard into the air.

Turning to walk to the pond, he didn't see the irritated ball of paper (what? Like the rest of the story has been believable!) turn in the air and shoot back down to hit him on the back of the head, before dropping into the dry pond with a thump.

"Heh..."

Although it wouldn't have had the force to knock him unconscious, Rumblepan fell over cos of the impact of that evil ball of paper. Crawling to the edge of the pond, determined to get revenge by burning the ball, he peered down into the dried-up pool.

A face stared back at him. His younger face. A reflection.

"Cool!"

Inspiration hit him like a rock.

Actually, a rock hit him like a rock (thrown from the aggravated resident of the pond who had been hit on the bum by a rather rude ball of paper), but the bump on the head jogged his memory, sifting away all the stuff that had clogged up his brain since the earlier bump on the head from Rio during the hostile takeover of the yard.

"A-ha! I've got it!"

As the enthusiastic, idea-filled writer ran off, Kvitter peered out of her little cave under the lip of the pond and realised with a groan she had left a painting of a young Rumblepurr lying on the pond bed again.

Grabbing it, she tugged it back into the cave and pushed the stone back over the entrance, to get back to her evil plans for a hostile (but NICE) yard takeover, when the annoying and terrible shoot was over.

"Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"What's wrong with O-Rio?" Tailkinker asked.

The red queen was dangling from a vine by her ankle, nearly twenty feet above the very hard and rocky ground. Then she wasn't. It was just lucky that she fell on her head and no severe damage was caused.

"I think she might be a bit hyper." Altaica remarked.

Amity grinned and yelled over to the red. "Yo, O-Rio, you hyper?"

"Me? Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Spinning in rapid circles, the red smacked into a tree trunk and fell over, giggling. "Oooh! That were a big stick..." (And please note, this really is the result when I am hyper. Ask anyone who has seen me in this state)

Sundancer shook her head. "Anyone would think she had been drinking Mountain Dew and not Captain Riook."

At this point, O-Rio turned to a hidden camera for a close-up shot, and incredibly unsubtly pressed a finger to her lips. "Its a secret!" She whispered loudly, swaying slightly on the spot, before giddily spinning off again.

"Where's Rumble got to?" Sorelli looked around the square, her eyes stopping on the moutainous heap of crumpled papers. There was no sign of the tabby. The black and red scrambled to her feet. "Oh Rumpus! He's been buried alive!"

"That would make a good storyline," a voice remarked, the brown and white tabby emerging from the area near the pond, weighed down by a huge folder filled with paper, his fur splattered with ink.

All of T.H.I.S.I.S.T.H.E.S.T.U.P.I.D.E.S.T.T.H.I.N.G.I.H.A.V.E.E.V.E.R.W.R.I.T.T.E.N. rose, staring at the tabby.

"Rumble...?"

"Have you been writing?"

"You... could say that." The tabby hefted the huge folder against his chest. "I saw my reflection in the bottom of the pond and got hit on the head... it kinda brought back my memory a little bit and I started to write this."

He dropped the folder at their feet. The Seismic shock shook Iceland.

Altaica looked from the folder to Rumblepan. "You mean all we had to do was smack you on the head and we would have been out of this God-awful costumes and back in our trailers an hour and a half ago?"

"I guess."

Luckily, Firefyn and Melinshade were there to hold the black and white tabby back from the brown and white Tom. Rumblepan was oblivious as he gathered his folder up to him again and looked in the direction of the pirates.

"Shall we go and defeat the evil and naughty Riook?"

"Whu?" O-Rio blinked.

"We're going to defeat Riook. You coming?"

O-Rio looked around furtively. "I'll be right along, you guys. You go on without me. I just have to... uh..." Her eyes fell on a large, red strategically-placed phone box. "I just have to make a phone call."

Ensemble, T.H.I.S.I.S.T.H.E.S.T.U.P.I.D.E.S.T.T.H.I.N.G.I.H.A.V.E.E.V.E.R.W.R.I.T.T.E.N. and Rumblepan started down towards the pirate set, avoiding a bunch of School girls and reaching the ship, to find Pre-Smee online.

"Where is Riook?"

"Search me." Altaica accepted Pre-Smee’s offer. Rubber gloves and Vaseline later, the teeny Tom ran away to hide in his cabin, whimpering.

"He doesn't know." The black and white stated, peeling her gloves of with a pleasant slapping sound and tossing them in the bin.

"A-ha! You have come to challenge me!" The demented little group spun to find Riook standing there, her pirate hat ever so slightly askew (Hey, the hat is *meant* to be stuck on the end of her tail!) and a silver pen clutched in her hand.

Rumblepan stared at the pen. "That's my pen! You fiend! What have you done to O-Rio!"

"I ate it." Riook shrugged. "Isn't that what normal people do?"

The tabby growled, a very odd sight. "Give me back my pen."

"Prove you've earned it." Riook was bouncing on her toes, looking almost giddy.

Rumblepan threw the book at her. It knocked her unconscious and he snatched his pen back with a triumphant cackle. Snatching a bit of paper from his pocket, he quickly scribbled the rescue of his muse.

In a blink, thanks to the wonder of modern cinema, he was back in his neat office, at home, his Moutain Dew all neatly filling his fridge, a picture of a wingless Tinklewell pinned on the wall above his computer.

Raising his face from the keyboard, Rumblepan rubbed his eyes. Had it all been some kind of weird dream?

"You've Got Mail"

Raising a brow, Rumblepan opened the e-mail curiously.

"You may think you have won this time!" The letters were in HTML-coding, so after he had cut a dozen lines of symbols from it, he could read it. "But I will be back! Nothing can ever keep Captain Riook down! Muahahahaah!"

A WAV file was included, adding to the menacing factor by playing Riook's evil and demented laughter that faded off into a slightly hysterical-sounding giggle of glee.

Opening a new folder, Rumblepan started to type a new story.

And Riook shrieked as the events of the story carried her away to a small and pokey little dungeon with only a computer and the instructions to write a weird series named "The Heathrow Heap" for company.

***** This is Fragging Done With! *****

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