"So when are you going to start writing that vacation story I told you?" the muse asks from his perch on the arm of the sofa.

"There *is* no vacation story," the poor, pitiful, put-upon writer retorts, waving him away.

"Yes, there is, remember? The CDC and the 4 immortals take a vacation to Florida and Richie finds that cute baby crocodile that turns out to be not so cute."

"And that's all you told me. That's not a story, that's an anecdote."

"I'd tell you more if you'd just listen."

"Would you please stop hounding me about that damn vacation story? If you must hound me, tell me about the handcuffs...er...I mean bracelets."

"Ah-hah! I knew there was something fishy about those things. Now I'm *really* not going to tell you about them."

"Come on, please? The Par-Tay is in TWO days!! You can't expect me to go empty-handed, now can you?"

"Who's master here? You or me? More groveling and I might consider it."

"Listen, you pea-brained, worthless excuse for a muse�"

"Aw, now that wasn't nice, was it? I think you hurt my feelings."

"You're a muse, you *have* no feelings."

"Sure, keep it up, that'll get the story out of me."

"Could someone please tell me what horrible thing I did in a past life that gave me such bad karma and saddled me with *you* for a muse?" the writer beseeches, looking heavenward.

"Oh, that did it. Go write the bloody story yourself, if you think you can do it without me."

Silence ensues while the muse pouts.

"OK, OK, I'm sorry, oh great and wonderful muse of mine. I grovel at your feet and...HEY!! Why are you still barefoot and wearing nothing but sweatpants? Would you please go put some clothes on?"

"Why? I thought you liked me bare-chested and bare-footed."

"TWO days in a row?"

"I'll get dressed if you'll start on the vacation story."

(Jamming hands over ears)"NO! La, la, la, I�m not listening to you."

"Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look doing that?"

"Can't be any more ridiculous than having a conversation with an imaginary being. Tell me about the bracelets!!!!"

"Is there any beer in the fridge?"

At this point, the harried author is banging her head against the table and the muse has gone off in search of beer. There's still no handcuff story and the muse is *still* wearing nothing but sweatpants.

Methos stood outside the kitchen door, one foot carefully holding it open a couple of inches, eavesdropping.

"Wait a minute!" interrupts the "so-called" writer of this piece. "Eavesdropping? You were eavesdropping on a private conversation?"

"Of course I was eavesdropping, that's what we devious people do," answers back the muse.

"But...but...that's just plain rude!"

"If I didn't eavesdrop once in a while, you'd never get any stories out of me."

"And this would be a bad thing, why?"

The muse gave her his patented, smug, 'I know better than you' look and continued. "The best tales come out of those off-hand remarks you girls make. Now, will you hush and let me tell this my way? Where was I? Oh yes...�

He chuckled softly to himself as he listened to the two clansibs chatter on, totally unaware of any outsiders listening in. Instinct told him that this conversation could lead to some serious blackmail information. And blackmail is always an option worth pursuing, especially with this bunch of wild women, he thought with a smirk.

"Blackmail?" came the outraged voice of the author again.

"Would you stop interrupting?"

Lahoffy reached into the bowl of M&M's sitting on the table and kicked back, propping her feet on the table. "Robin is MINE, all mine!! So's Joe Elliott. And add PW to that and there's my top 5."

Sheeza glanced at her with a puzzled look on her face as she munched on a brownie. "Don't know Joe, so he's yours. Robin too, and PW? Yup, he's got your cuffs on..."

"Top 5? Top 5 what? And who's this PW person?" asked the muse.

"Now who's interrupting?"

"Tsk, tsk, sarcasm? Answer the question."

"Remember that Friends episode about the list of 5 people you could...uh...have fun with and face no recriminations? That's it."

"Hmm...interesting concept. Wonder who should be on mine?"

"Would you just get ON with the story?"

Lahoffy snickered. "Ssh...he thinks they're bracelets..."

Sheeza giggled, nearly choking on the mouthful of brownie. "You painted 'em gold, didn't you?"

"Nah, he liked the silver color. Said it went better with his coloring."

"This is true...silver would be better. Did you chrome 'em up or something?"

"No, just polished them all nice and shiny."

"Cool. Got fur padding? Or does he like it when they cut in a little bit?"

"Silk lining."

"That's right...silly me."

The two clansibs laughed and reached for more snacks. Midnight ramblings and chocolate, what could be better?

"Silk lining? Silver handcuffs? Kinky, aren't we?"

"See what happens when you eavesdrop? Find out things better left unknown."

"But then I get to watch you turn all these lovely shades of purple when I bring the subject up again later."

"I hate muses."

"Duncan's would have fur...just a little...his cuff's would be wide band...to ease the biting and chafing. Nice burnished bronze," Sheeza continued dreamily.

"Oooo, yes, of course. Wider is better."

"Manlier too.

"And bronze. Lovely choice."

"A lovely dark brown sable." *poof* went sheeza as she spontaneously combusted at the thought.

Lahoffy sighed, waiting for the ash to settle. "Methos' are styled like the gauntlets he wore as a Horseman."

"With spikes or studs?" sheeza asked when she'd gathered herself once again.

"Studs of course."

"You girls have WAY too much time on your hands."

"It was the middle of the night, what'd you expect? A discussion on rocket science?"

Sheeza thought for a moment. "And how about for Connor?"

"Connor? Hmm...I think his would be a bit more slender in style."

"Lined with leather? Suede? String?"

Lahoffy giggled. The thought of the string always made her do that. "Of course leather. And the color would be...hmm..."

"Brown."

"OK, slender, brown, lined with leather. Perhaps a small semi-precious stone embedded in them. Something like jade, maybe, or topaz? Jade I think, bring out his eyes."

"Good choice."

"Anything I missed?"

"No, I think those would be something he'd be willing to wear."

"Course he would, if the CDC asked him to."

"I can't believe this drivel."

"Hey, you were the one who eavesdropped."

"Of course, all these cuffs have to fit fairly snug so as not to interfere in a battle," lahoffy said, gesturing wildly with the brownie knife to demonstrate.

"Absolutely, but I wasn't really picturing these cuffs for battle...more for�er...battle."

"Now that sounds interesting. Do tell me more."

"You're the muse. Figure it out for yourself."

"Well, yeah, but see...that's the whole purpose of the cuffs. To brand them as belonging to someone," lahoffy pointed out. �If they took them off, it would defeat the purpose."

"But I wouldn't want Duncan to get the fur dirty in some stinky old battle, unless the bad guys invaded the compound, but then... you do have a point."

"So, the fur is removable and washable. Voila. Problem solved."

"Or replaceable. You're right. Panic over nothing. *poof* visual...nice...goes with the kilt."

"See? Gotta think these things through. Be practical. Replaceable is good. Could change every so often just for variety. Different type furs."

"True...everyday fur for when he works in the garden or the oasis...sable for special occasions..." sheeza's voice faded off into a whisper as her eyes glazed over.

Snapping her fingers in front of sheeza's face to gain her attention, lahoffy asked, "And we got onto this subject HOW?" "Handcuffs, darling, remember? I quote: 'Don't know Joe, so he's yours. Robin too, and PW? Yup, he's got your cuffs on...'"

"There's that PW guy again. Who the hell are you talking about?"

"Would you just shut up already?" grumbled the writer.

"Ah, that's right. It all went downhill from there."

"I guess I started it. Sorry about that."

Lahoffy whooped in triumph. "AHA!! I'm not guilty this time!! Whoo-hoo!!"

"I can't believe it."

Lahoffy reached across, punching sheeza in the arm for that remark. "Course, we have to come up with a set for Richie or else he'll whine."

"Rubber."

"Rubber?"

"Rubber? Say...you don't mind if I go visit sheeza once in a while, do you? This rubber thing...."

"By all means, just don't be surprised if she tosses you out on your ear."

"That foam type rubber. I see him more current, less conventional, unless it was leather maybe."

"Wouldn't that be too easy to tear?"

�Replaceable, darling. And he could have different colors, which I think he would like. Remember, he likes green."

"Leather cuffs would work. Tooled leather with perhaps a satin lining."

"Now there's a possibility," Sheeza said as her eyebrows twitched with interest. "Nice hand tooled design."

"Thought so. They would last longer."

"Snaps or ties? I think ties."

"Right. Ties. More...um...what's the word I'm looking for?

"Insane comes to mind."

"Did I ever tell you I hate smart-aleck muses?"

"Like laces. That would work well, too."

"Yeah, �sexy�s� not quite the word I'm looking for, but most definitely visually appealing."

"No, not sexy, but yes on the appealing. Earthy...less sophisticated, speaks of his youth...his head banging and Harley."

"Something about leather and ties that's a turn on. Yes, earthy and less sophisticated. That's Richie."

"Leather and ties a turn on? Must remember that in the future. Bet I can come up with some lovely fantasies with that combination."

"Do it and see if you ever get any more beer. Better yet, I'll buy nothing but that cheap stuff."

"You wouldn't!"

"Try me."

"Beer and leather cuffs...goes with the leather cycle chaps...and the helmet...with that black leather jacket with the fringe."

"Well, I think we've got customized cuffs for all the boys now. Nice fashion accessories, wouldn't you say? "

"I'm in agreement."

"Ok, so are Richie's cuffs black leather as well?"

"He may need more than one set. Another set to go with his blonde leathers?"

"Probably. Leather does tend to wear after awhile. Especially if it's treated not too gently."

"As well as we are keeping him, he can have fresh ones as needed."

"True." Lahoffy grinned conspiratorially at her clansib.

Methos quietly let the door shut and, smiling wickedly to himself, crept away to contemplate how best to use the information he'd just acquired.

"And? And? Where's the rest? You can't leave it like that!"

"I'm thirsty. I need another beer and there isn't any. Someone forgot to go to the store this morning."

The writer snatched up her purse and keys and headed out the door, muttering under her breath about insane muses that drank every drop of beer in the house, slouched around on the furniture, and made snide comments, day in and day out. If words could kill, the muse would have imploded on the spot.

lahoffyCDC
Oct. 14, 2002

Brief note: The above was inspired by a late night chat with sheeza that got way out of hand. *g* Like most of them do. The entire conversation actually DID take place and is pretty much how you see it here. With a bit of touching up to satisfy the muse.

Fear for our sanity. *eg*

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