Because a couple of poor fools asked for this:

This is a sequal to Unforseen Side Effects. You will need to read it in order to make any sense of of what transpires. Heck, you may read it and *still* not make any sense of what transpires.

None of the characters or places mentioned herein are owned by me, Yakkity-yakity, yadda.

Snide remarks can be sent to a popular address on Pennsylvania Ave, Washington D.C., USA
Praises can be sent to God in the form of prayers that I might be allowed into Heaven despite it all.
In lieu of that, send comments to: [email protected] where they can either take up disk space or temporarily line my recycle bin; depending.

<click>

"Hi, this is... um... Nichole Brabant housesitting for Nick Knight. I'm either asleep, or out shopping. Leave a message at the beep. Unless your name's 'LaCroix' in which case the answer is 'no' and get lost."

*lt;Beep!>

"Nick? Nat! Quite primping and answer the phone! This is an emergency! Nick? Oh sh**!<click>

"Really, Vachon, <giggle!> I never knew! And that's why Screed is as bald as Kojak?"

"Si! It *was* quite funny to see his face the next evening. I doubt he will ever recover from it. You know, Nichole, teal is your color. You look really beautiful in that dress."

"This? Oh, its just some old thing left behind by one of my Condemned Bimbos. A few centuries out of date, but you know how fashions are: Here today, gone tommorrow, back the next century... .... Get your hand off my knee, Conquistidor unless you want to lose it a second time.

"Gee, Knight. Getting a bit touchy?"

"No-- but *you* are. And I'm not that kind of girl."

"Mmm... you *are* rather one-of-a-kind. Mind if I take a taste?"

"Oh--yuck! Dad warned me about men who don't floss!"

"Querida, please don't bring up your father."

"VACHON!"

"Uh-oh. Speak of the Devil and--"

"Darn it, Knight! I thought you told him you were at the library?"

"So *there* you are, Nichole! And with that no-good slacker! What has he got that *I* haven't got?"

"Hair."

<insert lengthy, rambling monologue along the lines of: 'bald is beautiful' and 'more face to kiss' here. Vachon sneaks out about half-way through muttering something about catching the next flight out of Toronto.>

<"Yes. Most annoying. But easy enough to rectify. Just call me the UN-repairman."

"Don't even think--- !"

<Tha-Thump, tha-thump>

"... mind the collar... its silk."

<moments later>

"LACROIX!"

<LaCroix hurriedly shoves Nick/Nichole behind himself>

"Eh? Oh... Janette. Fancy seeing you again, my dear. Aren't you working in the Montreal cosmetics industry?"

"It would be better to say, I*had* a job. For some reason, the past few days I can't seem to get over the compulsion for teal. Needless to say, my customer base dwindled rather quickly. LaCroix I've been having the strangest images from Nicholah. They're really faint, but.... why would Nicholah be comparison shopping in Lingerie stores?"

"Ah... pschic residue..."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Whose the meal?"

"No one."

"Err.. uhhhhnn.."

"Nicholah? Good grief! Nicholah! So.. the rumors are true?! ....And why are you wearing that abominable color? I told you pastel's are all wrong for you."

"GETAWAY FROM HIM!"

"Ye Gods--- the good doctor to the rescue. I'm afraid you're too late, my dear. Nichole is half-way to rejoining me."

"You didn't."

"Good to the last drop. At least she will be in a moment. If you'll exc... ooooooooh!

"Merdi! Natalie--- what is happening?!"

"<smirking> Daddie Dearest just poisoned hmself on a batch of bad Nicky. Ugh, what a putrid shad of green."

"LaCroix *does* look sick." Janette opined, concerned.

"I was referring to Nick's outfit. Orange is much more his color."

"I prefer basic black myself."

"In evening wear, maybe."

"My dear... ALL my 'wear' is evening."

"True.... Oh My...! This is too grotesque!" <Janette, horror struck as she looks upon the altered form of her master>

"Sacre Bleau!"

The spartanish, crew-cut bleach blonded figure glared back at them with reddish eyes. Natalie finally found enough of her voice to croak: "But your.... your..."

"Not mortal?" LaCroix sneered. "My dear, I am *far* too old and powerful to succumb to your childish potions. *Nothing* can affect me!"

"But your... your..!" Natalie totally lost her voice in the face of her worst nightmare.

<Awakened by what sounded for all the world like a drill sargeant putting new recruits through the ringer, Nicholas cautiously opened one eye and took stock of himself:>

He was still alive! Yes!
He was a vampire again! No!
He was a he again! Darn! After he had already switched his entire wardrobe over too. <Sigh> Back to basic black.

<That done, Nick concentrated on his surroundings, caught sight of the others and decided a quick escape was in order. He slunk toward the door.>

"And where do you think *YOU'RE* going?"

"Um..out to cancel my engagement to Vachon?"

"What a pathetic collection of flabbiness!"

<he forced his son into line with the rest of his hapless victims.>

" All right, Natalie, Janette! Abdominal crunches--Now! Nicholas! Give me 500 push ups! And , people, I want to see plenty of SWEAT!" <The LaCroix/Susan Powter look-alike glared disdainfully at them all>

*************** The End ****************

Kyer, Loyal Squire(ette) to the Knight deBrabant, Knight de Soir, Schitzoid Knightie, with Definite leanings toward the Cotk