House Guests Can Be Such A Pain!:

LaCroix sat in his Cerk radio studio contemplating the little winkey-blinkey lights before him as he waited for a commercial for Sunshield 3500spf to finish. Janette had suggested he try redecorating to give his mind some respite from devising torments for his son.

"Let'see... if I change the blue lights to red... though yellow is always nice I think... Yes... you *will* become yellow. You cannot resist me... " His pencilled-on eyebrows furrowed in concentration. All of the blue lights blinked and dutifully changed their hue--- except one which obstinately refused to become a blonde even for the most ancient of all the daylight-impaired persons in Toronto.

"Damn resisters.. er... resistors!" The highly offended vampire snarled as he plucked out the offending lightbulb, and with a quick flick of the wrist, flung it down and smashed it underfoot. "Ungrateful light! Ungrateful little whelp... hmmm." Using one finger to flip over a switch, LaCroix leaned over to speak into his microphone, his voice caressing the instrument like a lover... for all of about 8 seconds. Then he lost it.

"The light. Some crave it. Some abhorr it. But always it is there to annoy us--- LIKE THE UNGRATEFUL CHILDE THAT REFUSES TO BEND TO HIS FATHER'S WILL!"

Nick's eyes rolled heavenwards as he turned off the Caddy's radio. "One of the little winkey-blinkeys must have refused to change colors for him again." he muttered to himself as he parked his car. Sighing aloud, he turned to look at his alien passengers, Dwod and Zwipdig. The aliens were outfitted in diguises guaranteed to allow them to travel North America without fear of a second glance--- matching t-shirts with the slogan: "Star Wars Groupies--- Venice Beach, CA.

"He's probably in a foul mood." Nick felt compelled to warn them. "He usually only goes for whammying his console when he's in a foul mood... or after his 'wine's been cut with Ribena by mistake." The former Knight who had survived wars and captivity trembled at the memory of the last time his master had suffered from the downward side of such a 'sugar high'. Come to think of it the 'up' side hadn't been easy to deal with either. Last time LaCroix had wanted them all to wear *togas* and reanact "Julias Ceasar"! And to change the line of "Beware the Ides of March!" with "Beware the Ungrateful Son and his Flaming Torch!" Well, it was embarrassing. But then, Janette had looked positively fetching in the skimpy...

THWAK!
"Ow!-- hey, guys, this is it." Nick gestured with his fingers at the radio station's entrance while rubbing his sore arm. "The Earthen Wise One <in his daydreams anyway> awaits."

Dwod squinted at the sign. "C..E..R..K Is that an earthen authority title?"

"Yeah. Completely Egomaniacal Reigning Krumudgean. But.. uh.. only the most INSIGNIFICANT of beings call him that." Nick quickly stressed. No sense getting staked out in the sun by mon pere. With this fiasco he was enough at risk of that bit of fatherly 'tough love' as it was. "IMPORTANT beings like the Creamwhiz should call him Mr. LaCroix or The Nightcrawler." Making sure the his beloved Caddy had plenty of parking space (i.e. half the block was empty of other parked cars), Nick escorted the demented duo inside the building; mentally calculating which would be the best escape route should things turn ugly.

It sounded like LaCroix was on a roll.

"-- and when that peach starts to turn old and moldy and it squishes against your iron grip...! Aah. Gentle listeners, I seem to have a visitor. Why don't you all listen to a bit of Classical music while I indulge in some witty insul-- er.. insights with my guest?" Hitting the necessary buttons, LaCroix went out to greet his child, blissfully unaware that he his finger had hit the wrong button and CERK was now playing a personal tape of 'School House Rock'/Puff the Magic Dragon/ and The Monster Mash as sung by the Alvin & TheChipmunks." (Meanwhile out in the Raven, a certain Cerk devoutee spewed out most of her swallow of 'the House Special', narrowly missing her glassy-eyed bartender. "Miklos, that is absolutely the LAST time I will permit you to spike Monsieur LaCroix's private stock with the Ribena, oui?" Still in shock, the Irish vampire barely nodded. "Um.. yes.. oui.")

"Nicholas! What a pleasant suprise! And what is this?" LaCroix cocked an eybrow as he spotted his son's diminuitive companions. "George Lucas fans from California? My, my, Nicholas--- so you've finally degraded so low as to stoop to associating with--"

"Space aliens."

"Of course they're 'spaced'. They are from Venice Beach after all... "

"No. I mean they're from outer *space*. As in: "Take us to your leader!'-type aliens. Not being too sure of Canadian politics at the moment-- I brought them to you instead. Besides, you're the one who foisted them on me. I'm just returning the favor."

"I... ?"

"Good Day, Oh Earthen Wise One." Dwod straightened his antennae in the Creamwizian salute. Zwipdig followed suite. LaCroix groaned inwardly as he recognized the voices. The two he had mistakenly thought were dim-witted crank callers or looneys and had sent Nicholas' way. He carefully schooled his features so as to look profoundly bored.

"Ah. Yes. The annoying, squeeky-voiced callers. Dwizzle, was it?"

Dwod squinted closed one bulbous eye while glaring at LaCroix with the other. "Dwod."

"How silly of me. Of course. Dwod. Rhymes with Clod. To what do I owe the pleasure?" The last was aimed at his son, making Nick squirm. Never mind that he felt he was in the right. Those damn eyebrows of his master always disconcerted him.

"You sent them to me to help them get the most valuable things on Earth." Nick reminded him gathering his courage and some of the ire he had felt before he had decided to comfront the old Roman general.

"And?" LaCroix smirked his old-and-powerful smirk, stalling for time. Space aliens! They were *really* space aliens? He had thought it all a Halloween prank! This changed things. His mind was already spinning on how this could be turned into a way to lure his errant son back to his true nature, inspire a Nightcrawler monologue, and how best to secure the book and movie rights without TPTB getting in the way. Darn Enforcers always trying to horn in!

"*And* after tearing the loft apart, they didn't see anything that caught their fancy." Nick glared at Dwod. The alien *was* still thinking about acquiring his special 3D puzzle.

"Not even the lovely Dr. Lambert?" LaCroix grinned oily, remembering more of his conversation with Zwipdig. Wouldn't it be a gift from the Gods if these noisome creatures spirited the annoying coroner away into the blackness of space! "And I suppose your blaming me for all of your troubles-- as usual?"

Nick growled.

"Oh, come, Nicholas!" LaCroix snorted and looked at his Looney Toones Tazmanian Devil watch. If he was reading the big and little hand thingees correctly his tape was half-way thru. (Darn modern technology! Although, to be sure, it would no longer be prudent for him to revert to the sundials so in vogue during his mortal existence.) "Calm yourself and play your flashback if you must. I haven't got all night." He smiled inwardly as his son's blue eyes took on a glassy stare. Nicholas never could refuse an invitation to flashback.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ FLASHBACK~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I can't believe this!" The angst-ridden blonde detective/vampire mumbled to the air as the shortish aliens rummaged about the his loft. A vampire's home was his castle and his had been stormed by depraved Barbarians! Hurriedly putting down the bottle of cow's blood he had been downing, he relieved Zwipdig of a certain prized pair of leather-bound sticks that the alien was scrutinizing as if he planned to dissect it. "GIVE ME THAT!" Nick managed to place Johann de Arc's holy relic up on the mantle before it burned his hand too severely, but the pain was just one more thing to add to his rising aggravation. Zwipdig merely went on with the search.

"Look, you two!" Nick growled, "I brought you to my home as you requested, and all you've done since we arrived is get your flippy little digit prints all over my stuff!" He looked askance at Zwipdig. "AND broke my 'Dracula-- the Series' action figure set! (The Klaus one had been a particular favorite. At least they hadn't gotten to his Jean Grey X-man doll as well.) "Isn't about time you told me what you wanted me for?" He pulled a priceless antique whirligig from Dwod's grasp and carefully put it back where it belonged. Meanwhile, the infuriating High Czoonid Dwod's gaze had fallen on the ex-crusader's prized picture of Janette DuCharme as done in 3-D Jigsaw. A stunning bit of work that he had privately commisioned from the famous puzzle company.

"Junk!" Dwod snorted derisivously as he looked at the sculpture and then about the room--- though Nick was certain the alien gave the bust a second, appreciative look.

"I beg your pardon?" Nick blinked and showed a bit of fang, completely caught off guard by the remark and just a little bit jealous. No slimy toad creature from outerspace was going to get its flippers on BOTH his women, by Belagosi!

Zwipdig brought out his blast gun and trained it at Nick's head. "You heard. This is all junk. Where are they?"

"Where is what?" asked the bewildered vampire.

"The classy stuff. The souvenirs!"

Nick's jaw dropped. "Souvenirs?"

"Of course! We were told that you have been collecting them for over 700 Earth years. That you are the holder of the most unique pieces of Earth manufacture. Cough 'em up."

"Cough WHAT up?!" Nick asked plaintively, not wishing to suffer the effects of the blaster again.

"The velvet paintings, the glazed brick-a-brack, the authentic Native American jewelry made in Hong Kong!" Dwod intoned reverently. "Don't deny us, bloodsucker. We know you have such valuables. Zwipdig himself contacted your Earthen Wise One for the information. You have been a collector for Earth memorabilia for over 700 solar years."

"Earthen.. Wise.. And that would be... whom?" Nick asked, a dark suspicion rising within him.

"The Nightcrawler." Dwod answered, confirming the thought. "We heard his voice on the primitive radio waves your planet uses and commanded him to tell us where we could find the greatest Earthen treasures for our Pod Mother's collection."

"He told me to find the Angsty One with Fangs with the really ugly-hued car, who was his keeper of all things most valuable." Zwipdig confirmed.

"And he told us what human would quarantee your cooperation." they intoned in unison.

"Lemme get this straight..." Nick grabbed his bottle and chug-a-lugged from it for a moment before continuing. "You heard the Nightcrawler on the radio being his normal pompous self and figured that such an egotistical bloward must be the leader of this world." The aliens' heads bobbed in unison, antennae wafting in sinc. "He," Nick went on sarcastically, "being the wonderful father that he is, couldn't pass up this opportunity for making my life more of a living hell than it already is--- just for his amusement--- told you to harrass Nat, and waylay me--- on the supposition that I kept such modern art as city-logo, decal-decorated ashtrays in my loft?" More uniform head bobbing.

"I'm going to kill him. Again." Nick grabbed another bottle from his refrigerator and proceeded to dispatch it in like manner to the first. Purely for medicinal purposes of course. He had a headache.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ E-EN-E-E- END FLASHBACK ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"My, my. Did I cause all that?" LaCroix snickered.

Any Song Requests?:

"Well... " LaCroix giggled, pleased to have caused so much turnoil in his proteg'e's life, "I suppose you should take them to see your partner's place. I understand *he* is a connesoir of such...'high art'."

"This isn't funny, LaCroix!" Nick fumed. "Do you know what they did to my Star Wars Collection?"

LaCroix went a little paler. He had been very close to talking his son into trading Darth Vader for a mint-condition Welsh Druidess Barbie. But Nicholas could be *so* stubborn and wanted him to throw in Medical Examiner Barbie as well. As if! He had a strange attraction for that one... But if he had lost her potential mate,the deliciously Evil Dark Lord, due to his son's foolishness!

"Let's just say that Nuked Luke and Klaus are both vying for best impersonator of Jabba the Hut *and*--- " Nick stopped in mid sentence. The aliens were were grinning maniacally, staring at nothing in particular. "Um... Dwod? Zwipdig?"

"Quantum bips!"
"Shwammin!"

Dwod turned his moist-looking orbs on the vampires. "Such sounds!"

"Sounds?" Nick and LaCroix asked together.

In answer Zwipdig adjusted his right antennae, fiddled with the buttons on his watch, and opened his mouth. The hi-pitched strains of 'Puff the Magic Dragon' came out as rendered by Alvin the Chipmunk and Tiny Tim with accompanying with ukelele.

LaCroix's facial features took on an 'interesting' expression probably not seen since his daughter plunged her fangs into his neck that day in Pompeii. He gave an anguished howl before leaping back into the soundbooth. Nick smirked as he watched his sire frantically stab at buttons. His only regret was that the episode would be useless as blackmail material seeing as so much of Toronto was now already aware of his father's musical taste. Such a pity.

The 'music' from Zwipdig cut off just moments before a once-again composed LaCroix rejoined them, tape firmly in hand. His ice-blue eyes glared at his grinning son, daring him to make a comment---- ANY comment.

"Well. So nice to have met you all. Give my regards to Fozzie Bear and Miss Piggy." He turned to reenter his domain. Perhaps he could do some damage control by claiming some ham radio hacker had infiltrated CERK's signal...

Dwod stopped him by laying a flippy hand over his as he moved to open the door. "Wait! We desire the sounds."

"Over my undead body." Was the growled reply as the ancient vampire snatched back his hand.

Nick watched with growing apprehension as his master bared his fangs while Zwipdig moved for his Blaster. Things, as he predicted, were turning ugly indeed. And Janette would be none to happy if he showed up at the Raven with their master's remains shoveled into a shoe box like last time. She had been quite upset, and the fact that he had had to borrow the box from Nat...

"Oh, for goodness sake, Lacroix! Just make them a copy."

"For *goodness* sake, Nicholas?" his master snorted. "Why ever would I want to do that?"

"Because reconstructing yourself from Blaster ashes would put you out for an entire season of episodes and *I* for one remember how peevish you were the first time. Nick replied carefully. *He* was, after all, the reason there *had* been a first time.

Good point.

LaCroix unconsciously scratched himself where the little silicon bag was still imbedded in his renewed flesh. He *could* have gone to his son's coroner friend to have it removed, but that might prove too embarrassing for even such an old and powerful vampire such as himself. Especially since he had learned from Janette just *where* his temporary resting place had come from. No-- a repeat experiance such as that would most definitely not be welcome.

" Oh--- very well. I will make them a *copy*. Do NOT expect hi-fidelity quality ."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ a short time later ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"There!" Nick said tiredly, but with great relief to the two aliens as he escorted them out of CERK and back into his Caddy. "You've got a souvenir of Earth; I get back Natalie."

Silence.

"I said," Nick growled and emphasized each word distinctly, "I. Get. Back. Natalie."

Dwod stopped fiddling with his WalkAlien long enough to offer a shrug.

In one of those rare instances that found his vampiric AND human-wannabe impulses in complete accord, Nicholas wanted to be the perp in a homicide case. It took all his self control to keep from reaching around and throttling the amphibian. "You have the music--- what else could you want?" He felt a sudden twinge of apprehension. They couldn't want... ?

"The Pod Mother's brother, Mongoo had a nasty accident awhile back. Turned his skin an awful color. Used to have such beautiful green skin. Anyway, he has expressed a desire for a female pet."

"Goldfish?" Nick asked hopefully, his rising fear making his heart beat twice with a mere 30 second span inbetween.

"Human" Zwipdig answered helpfully.

Nick groaned as he rested his aching head upon the steering wheel. How was he going to keep his beloved coronerfriend, (and one relatively cheap doctor... it was frightening how little insurance would pay for bullet removal this century..), out of this 'Mongoo's' clutches when she rightfully belonged in his own noncomittal embrace?

"I need a drink" he told the floorboard. Thankfully, it didn't answer him back.

"Since you have already depleted your bovine oxygen/waste transmission fluid storage facility," Dwod reminded him, referring to his earlier bingeing and the resultant empty fridge, "I suppose it will be necessary to stop and get you some more if we are to continue our association." He looked around the area, big eyes blinking, "Where are the Blood Vending Machines located?

"Can I have the can when you're done, bloodsucker?" Zwipdig piped up, "My podlet wants to start a collection of Alien Soda Pop Cans. He's majoring in Pop Cultures."

Nick gripped the steering wheel even tighter. <Get Nat back first. Then kill them. Get Nat back first. Then kill them. Alien retaliation be damned.> He repeated the mantra over and over until he felt a little better. But he *still* needed a drink. A good, fresh-from-the-bottle bloodwine vintage to help him think. Going back to LaCroix to beg a medicinal swig was out of the question. Quenching his thirst straight from a cow was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. No, there was only one thing for it... he would have to stop at the Raven.

I Can't Take You Guys Anywhere!:

After giving Dwod and Zwipdig strict instructions to stay put, Nick entered the Raven and began weaving his way thru the dance floor. He noted that most of the patrons were still wearing their halloween costumes-- gothic. Shaking his head 'no' at several silent invitations to dance and/or exhange fang hickeys, he escaped to the comparative safety of the bar where Janette was sipping from her drink. Spying his approach, she hastily removed her favorite Xena the Warrior Chick Crazy Straw from her goblet and stuck it in her pocket.

"Janette?"

"Nicola! Still in search of a klew?"

"No. I managed to finish the rest of the crossword with Skanke's help. Number 7 down was 'souvlaki'."

His favorite unabashed vampiress planted a kiss on his cheek before whispering huskily into his ear, "Well then, since that investigation is settled, how about we adjourn to my quarters and start another, more private one... "

Before Nicholas could decide whether to accept the commission, he felt a rather unwelcome tug on the back of his duster. "Hey, bloodsucker--- whose the hot babe?"

Zwipdig waggled his antennae suggestively at the Raven's beautfiul owner. She hissed back at him, her face scrunched up in disgust.

"Ewww--- Nicola! What *is* that... that... *thing*! Its not yours is it?"

Nick turned around and moved insinuated himself between the pair in one smooth motion, glaring at the alien with gold-flecked eyes For once his Natalie conscience had been caught napping while he was with Janette and this bozo had had to show up now?! He was not amused. "Zwipdig, why aren't you with Dwod?"

"I am with Dwod."

"WAAagh!!"

Janette bumped into her brother and clung to him as she gave a startled hop forward. There was another of the slimy little toadies behind her eyeing her in a way she distinctly did *not* like. Well... not from a mutant frog anyway.

"NICOLA!"

"Its all right, Janette!" Nick hastened to assure her while surreptuously enjoying her fright. "This is Dwod and Zwipdig: Intergalatic Nic Nac Collectors"

Janette went paler than normal, "Nick/Nat collectors?" She had heard of alien abductions and thought it all highly amusing. Until now.

Her brother-in-blood looked pained. "Please don't give them any more ideas then they have already. They've kind of latched onto me for awhile--- I have no idea for how long--- in their quest to find useless Earth junk. Thanks to LaCroix, I am their chosen treasure hunt guide." Nick proceeded to fill her in. When he was finished with his long and angsty narrative his blue eyes pleaded with her. "Do you think I could have a drink?"

Janette didn't know whether to laugh or fall over in a faint. Nicolas *wanting* to drink the 'house special'? She sniffed delicately at the bloodwine she had been drinking. No. No it had not been laced with Miklos ribena by mistake.

"Of couse, Nicola... " she smiled at him as she moved behind the bar and bent down to get him a bottle of her best stock. "I have the perfect vintage right--"

She felt a soft touch on her backside as she quickly straightened up again. Dwod was holding up her crazy straw in one flippy hand, the triumpant grin of a veteran garage-sale afficiando on his mug.

"Beautiful!" The alien commander gloated.

"That's mii--!" Janette began before remembering that a certain someone was close by. A certain someone whom she had no wish to divulge her secret fan-ish desires to. "--klos'! Give it back, he is very fond of it."

"What's mine?"

Janette cursed to herself as her bartender came back from the storeroom, but she managed to keep a pleasant smile plastered over her fangs. "Your Xena straw." She stared at her employee pointedly, hoping he'd take the hint. He was, after all, Miklos and not Nicholas.

"Wow-- really?! I can have y-- oh-- um... " Miklos stammered as he caught the reddish tint of eyes beginning to glow. He started backing up. "W-why don't I go clean up the cellar again?" With vampiric speed, he was gone.

Nick was grinning ear to ear. "Why, Janette! Does this mean you've decided to join me and our sire in the wonderful world of--- how did you so delicatley phrase it?--- 'juvenile-ish fantasy figure amassment?"

"Before you start having your fun, Nicola, may I remind you of what Xena does to those who she dislikes? It is only a drinking straw." She made a grab for the plastic doohickey, but Dwod refused to let go of his prize. "Give it back you space nuisance! And get out of my club--- the liquor license does not allow any cold-blooded creatures on the premises unless they are affiliated with Budweiser or a law firm!"

"You've met my 233rd cousins Hopzwat, Waqwart, and Slimeball?!" Zwipdig beamed proudly. It wasn't every Creamwhiz that had celebrities for distant relatives. Even if they were only famous on a back-pondwater planet such as this.

Flustered, Jannette gave up on trying to recover her cherished drinking implememt. Let them have the thing--- as long as she got rid of them in the bargain! "Nicola!"

"We're going! We're going!" Nick practically flew as he helped himself to three bottles of bloodwine and quickly herded Zwipdig and Dwod out of the Raven. In only one night the pair had managed to ruin his relationships with both sire and sister. Ok, so maybe a strained relationship with 'father thinks he knows best' wasn'tt a new thing, but.... Maybe in a few months he could dare to show his face in the Raven again. All he wanted to do now was get in his car, crash at the loft and drink himself into a stupor.

The Caddy, however, was gone.

Oops?:

Nick stared at the place his beloved car had been. Plain, dirty asphalt stared back.

"Where is my car?" He asked with unnatural calm, while uncorking one of the Raven's specialties.

"The Pod Mother stopped by while you were with helping us get this nifty souvenir." Dwod explained, "She took a liking to it. Pod Mother always did have a liking for fins in a sickly shade of green."

"Oh." The beleagured detective downed the bottle's contents in one gulp. He was past emotional outbursts. Thanks to these oversized frogs, his relationships with the two most important vampires in his unlife were now probably so low...

He set his fangs to the second cork, ripped it out and spit it into the air with vampiric force so that the little missile went sailing over the next building where it collided rather unhappily with the forehead of a rather dead serious-minded , blonde-haired policewoman who lay stunned on the street for several minutes before coming to, eyes bright with new-found revelation: "I'm a good cop!"

<Fortunately for Nick he was then unaware of the dire future ramifications of his little act of littering, or he would have waited for the sunrise right there on the sidewalk curb. Crime-- even itsy bitsy ones-- don't pay.>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ authoress' interlude~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kyer's list of potentially offended factions:

Knighties? check
Natpackers? check
N&NPs? check
Cousins? check
Ravenettes? maybe
Perkulators? check
Caddywhacks? check
Die Hards? working to it...

(trying to take my cue from Blazing Saddles. Offend as many as possible so none can claim they were singled out and try to sue you.)

~~~~~~~~~we now return to this story ~~Where is everybody?~~ Get back here!~~~~~~~~~

After flying back to the loft while carrying two passengers because Dwod had managed to break his (Nick's) cell-phone while trying to call his (Dwod's) mother ship because the intergalatic phone lines (Alien Talk & Teleport) were down due to an unprecedented surge of activity (male suiters) caused by Zwipdig's accidently giving the Raven's phone number and Janette's pic instead of their current location (street curb) so that they could just beam over to Nick's home (loft) instead of having to take a taxi (urban transport for the insane) which Nick then couldn't call either because Dwod had broken his cell phone...

"I want Nat back. I want my car back. I want my unlife back." Nick groaned, collapsing onto the couch in a state of near exhastion. "But most of all, I want Zwipdig to stop pointing that thing in my face!"

"Oh... sorry." The alien nonchalantly pointed his blaster in the other direction as he polished it; whereas it promptly went off and gave the dragon on the wooden mantel a whole new expression. "Oops. Good thing that wasn't a souvenir."

Angrily, Nick grabbed for the blaster meaning to turn it into a form of modernistic art, but Zwipdig moved just enough so that he hit the control for the hologram instead.

"Nick?!" Natalie's frazzled-looking form appeared in mid air, hair scrunchy askew, clothing a bit likewise. He thought he caught a glimpse of a well-muscled, golden-skinned alien scurrying out of sight. Natalie smiled uncertaintly at him.

"My god, Nat!" Nick sputtered, wide awake now, "What's going on? Are they torturing you!"

"Um... well.. "

"Don't worry, Nat! I'll get them away from you soon!"

"How soon?!" Nat got an anxious expression on her face which Nick misinterpretated as impatience for her quick rescue. "I mean... you don't want to rush things, Nick.... you know?"

"What do you mean, Nat?"

Natalie gave a furtive glance sideways, biting her tongue a little. "Um... I only mean that you don't want to antagonize them, Nick. Yeah--- better take your time."

"Oh." Of course Nat was right. They might kill her if he did something impromptu. He gave her his sad, puppy dog look. "Courage Nat. Remember that I... appreciate you," he didn't notice when she rolled her eyes ceilingward, "and that I miss those warm cuddly moments before the tv. You know--" Nick looked furtively around and leaned forward a little, lowering his voice. "-- when I kiss you on the forehead?" Oh great, now his fangs had descended--- but it was worth it if that promise of future high romance kept Natalie's spirits up.

"Gee, Nick. That does sound like gobs of fun." The Natalie hologram managed a smile. "Ooo--- gotta go--- my hun-- I mean-- guard!--- is getting restless." The hologram image was abruptly cut off.

"She misses me." Nick sniffled.

"Uh- huh." Dwod and Zwipdig said as one.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Can We End This? Please?

Notepad in hand, Nick flipped through the pages as he read off all of the things he had helped the Creamwhiz gather up over the last few days. It was a good thing he didn't have to breath or he'd have run out of breath fairly quickly-- the list would have rivalled Santa's.

"...Schanke's Elvis painting, a pink toga, Vachon's Sesame St. shampoo dispenser, Screed's Might Mouse squeeky toy," Nick shook his head in disgust remembering what they had had to do to get *that* item, "Captain Stonetree's Kleenex dispenser, a whiffle bat o' --" he squinted at Zwipdig's scraggly writing. Nick had suffered a slight head concussion while wresting this item from its owner and the alien had had to take over the notations while he recovereed. "--o' Dwoom? (whatever.), a chia pet shaped like a cow, a pet rock with babies, an entire flock of plastic flamingos, and (finally!) 40 cases of Pez dispensers that bear an uncanny resemblance to my vampire sire." With the flick of his wrist he tossed the notepad into Dwod's arms.

"A fair haul."

"Fair?! We raided all my *former* friends places, my very much annoyed enemies places, every thrift store in the city, the swapmeet, garage sales, estate sales, half sales, and a dozen recycle bins. I hope your spaceship comes with a trailer hitch because you're going to need the Galatic version of U-haul here." He gestured around his loft that was currently packed to the gills with useless stuff. "And don't expect me to help you two move it all either."

Zwipdig giggled. An inocuous sound that made Nick's blood suddenly turn several degrees colder than it already was. He was getting a really bad feel...ok, a worse feeling about this.

"There is no need to move our treasures from this edifice, bloodsucker." Dwod informed him. "We will be taking it as well."

"Huh?" the weary crusader croaked. "What 'it'?"

Dwod waved his flippy hands around. "This. With the window eyelids down it should make a nice traveling trunk."

"You can't take my loft! I live here!!!"

"Oh, don't whine. Its not like you'll have to live without it or your..." Dwod made a face, "your *decor*"

"And by that you mean... ?" Nick asked warily. He didn't like the way this conversation was drifting.

Dwod and Zwipdig both smiled at him-- an action that did not one wit of good for Nick's sense of well being. Janette's innocent little remark kept sticking in his mind like an unwanted flashback.

"You have been honored by the favor of her highness, the Pod Mother's daughter, bloodsucker. She saw you in the picture I sent of the Velvet Elvis Picture Emporium." The Zwipdig winked slyly at him. "I think she likes you. And Pod Mother has given the 'get along' for you two to get... 'hitched'? Though Matzaroli knows why, you being a bloodsucker and all."

"Oh, boy." Running his hands through his hair Nick tried to think. "Look, you guys... er.. whatever are supposed to be the High Crooznids, right? So tell the Pod Mother that I'm previously engaged with--"

"Janette?"
"Natalie?"

"Whomever! Frankly, with-- all due respect to your royal hierarchy-- I have no desire to get.." he swallowed hard, " physically close with something that's even more cold blooded than I--"

Zwipdig pushed a bottom and a holographic image appeared. It wasn't of Nat.

"--am." The 800-year old vampire's eyes got nearly as big as a the High Crooznids. For a second is voice even squeeked like one. "What have you done to Naa-- Jaanette?!" Nat? The image seemed to be a blending of the two womens features superimposed over over that of a Creamwhiz. Complete with bobbing antennae. Not that Nick was paying much attention to the feelers. His eyes were locked on the neck.

A long, sinuous neck that put even Janette's to shame. A neck any self-respecting vampire would undie for. A neck his fangs were just itching to try out.

"My... you are even cuter than in those pictures." The hologram smiled sweetly.

"Yeaath." Nick managed to slur out most of the word despite his dropped fangs, tongue, and mental activity..

"And you're coming to live with me in mom's Oompapa Empire." She batted her big eyes at him.

A flashback of 1228 started to play in Nick's mind: How a similar situation of non-brain thinking had gotten him into trouble. He mentally wadded the memory up and drop kicked it down his bond with LaCroix.

"Yeaath."

"Oh goody! See you later then." The tranmission fizzled out.

"Thhurr..." Well, at least LaCroix would not be able to follow him to Oompapa.

Meanwhile in the Ancient Roman's quarters...

LaCroix answered the special Darth Vader phone that was a recent aquirement. A gift actually, from a most unusual fan. "Hello? Ah, yes--- . Yes, we discussed this before, but that was previous to my being aware of... I know it wasn't easy to sicken all those cows and I *do* appreciate your reasons. By the way, how are the two who tried to do the bull as well? Ah. Pity.
My dear, as tempting as it is, you know I cannot accept your invitation as long as my-- What? He *did*?" LaCroix paused to check his link with Nicholas. "Well, in that case I suppose I will have to accept the position, my dear. How can I resist such a fellow devious mind."

Hanging up the phone, LaCroix leaned back in his chair,steepled his fingers together and smiled an evil smile, and pondered what the future Pod Father of the Oompapan Empire should pack.

**** The End ***** I'm free! Free! Bwaahaahaa! Let someone write!***
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Kyer, Loyal Squire(ette) to the Knight deBrabant, Knight de Soir, Schitzoid Knightie, Definite Cotk leanings.