| Suikoden II: God's Gift To Women
What started out as a brief parody (on trying to decide who the best-looking man in Suikoden II is) ballooned out of control into this evil, evil thing. If you have ANY favorite male characters in Suikoden II, I probably destroyed them in here. Spoilers, definitely spoilers from hell. Be sure you've finished the game before you read this evilness. Also, this damn parody is ENORMOUS. GIGANTIC. About three times longer than any parody I've written before. I think it's probably worth it, since I'm fairly happy with the results, but be sure you've got the time to read the whole blankety-blank thing before you start. ===== |
| (SCENE: A hallway in the castle. Large windows line one side of the
hallway to let in the light, and sitting in one of these is FLIK, gazing
out over the lake and looking just a bit forlorn. Sunlight flows over him,
causing him to gleam gently, casting his looming shadow against the opposite
wall. Leaning against the wall next to the window is VIKTOR, arms folded,
looking a mite peeved.)
VIKTOR: Quit posing. FLIK: I'm not posing. VIKTOR: Oh, yeah, right. I've known you for years. You're posing. You bask in the sun and look all forlorn and wait for some hapless female to fall in love with you. FLIK: That is NOT true. VIKTOR: Like hell. FLIK: ... all right, all right, so I'm posing. I can't help it. VIKTOR: You... can't help it. (FLIK sighs, just a tad exaggeratedly.) FLIK: Yeah... I'm just... God's gift to women. VIKTOR: You are NOT! FLIK: Yeah, yeah, I know, but I am. Really. Here, watch. (FLIK leans forward and pushes over a conveniently-placed large pot planter, revealing three women crouched behind it - NINA, ANITA, and NANAMI. Upon seeing FLIK, they all giggle, blush, and flee.) VIKTOR: ... so? That doesn't prove anything. They could have been here to see... to see me or something! FLIK: Ha! VIKTOR: Don't you 'ha' at me. I'm not entirely bad-looking. Maybe I'm not 'Blue Thunder', you little snot, but I've got my admirers. FLIK: You're jealous, aren't you? VIKTOR: No! FLIK: You are! You're jealous because I'm God's gift to women and you're not! (SHEENA, walking by, stops dead.) SHEENA: You are not either God's gift to women! FLIK: Huh? How would you know? SHEENA: Because I am! FLIK: Like hell, blondie. SHEENA: I don't see why women like your whiny ass anyway. FLIK: Because, dammit, I'm God's gift to women! (CAMUS pokes his head around the corner.) CAMUS: Pardon me. Did I hear someone mention 'God's gift to women'? FLIK: Oh, no. Not him. SHEENA: Not again. VIKTOR: Argh. CAMUS: It's such a burden to bear, isn't it? Miklotov and I often talk about it in the evenings... FLIK: Wait, wait. Are you claiming that MIKLOTOV is God's gift to women? CAMUS: Oh, not at all. I am. Miklotov merely picks up my leftovers, from time to time. It's so nice to be able to share with your friends, is it not? SHEENA: Oh, I'm gonna puke. VIKTOR: I think I'll join you. CAMUS: Laugh all you like. Sometimes I wish that I wasn't so beautiful... but it's a cross that must be borne. FLIK: ... VIKTOR: Everyone who'd like to see me rub Camus vigorously against a cheese grater, raise your hands. FLIK: Me. SHEENA: Me too. CAMUS: Why, you oaf, I'd like to see you try. I'm not just a pretty face, you know. SHEENA: Yeah, you're a pretty face and a puffed-up ego. CAMUS: Pfah! (The four Gifts start a hallway brawl, which quickly spreads. Eventually SHU appears and shouts them down, restoring a semblance of order.) SHU: What the hell is going on out here? You're supposed to kill the Highland army, not each other! (After some initial confusion, six main participants are singled out from the herd of happy battered brawlers. FLIK, clutching his swollen ear; VIKTOR, with four claw marks across his face; SHEENA, bruised, missing his jacket and most of his shirt; CAMUS, with a beauty of a black eye; MIKLOTOV, looking confused and missing a hunk of his hair; and, of all people, JESS, with a broken nose and torn sweater.) FLIK: Owwww, my ears are ringing... SHU: All right, so what was this all about? JESS: Don't athk me. I wath jutht walking down the hall when Viktor picked me up and uthed me to hit Theena. VIKTOR: Shut up, you tattletale! SHEENA: You shut up, you musclebound lunatic! FLIK: What? MIKLOTOV: He said 'SHUT UP, YOU MUSCLEBOUND LUNATIC'. FLIK: WHAT?! MIKLOTOV: NEVER MIND. Why -were- we fighting, anyway? I just saw Flik trying to pull Camus' head off... FLIK: What?! (Chaos reigns for a few more moments before SHU is able to extract the entire story from the participants. MIKLOTOV and JESS look indignant.) JESS: We were fighting over what?! MIKLOTOV: 'Leftovers'?! CAMUS: Er. MIKLOTOV: Well might you 'er', you bastard. Is this all the thanks I get from you? SHU: All of you SHUT UP. I'm tired of listening to this. FLIK: What?! SHU (raising his voice) SHUT UP! All of you just GO TO BED. I'll think up something suitable for you tomorrow. (SCENE: The main gathering hall of the castle. Everyone is here, some of them more battered than others. On the dais at the front stand SHU, APPLE, the HERO (hereinafter named BARAN), and NANAMI.) SHU: All right, silence please. As many of you know, there was a brawl in one of the back hallways last night, over... er... over who exactly in this army is 'God's gift to women'. (Silence, then an outburst of giggles. Four faces in the crowd turn very, very red.) SHU: Anyway! I have decided that, since I cannot possibly judge this situation, and since it is really too stupid for words, I will tend to my normal duties and let Nanami decide what is to be done about this problem. NANAMI: Yay, that's me! VIKTOR: Oh, God, no. FLIK: We're so dead. CAMUS: Well, you fellows may be dead. But she likes me. SHEENA: Oh, shit. I think I pinched her butt once... NANAMI: Anyway! Hi, I'm Nanami! I've decided that since sooooo many guys think they are sooooooo hot in this army, and since they're just going to KEEP fighting about it, that I'm going to organize a beauty pageant! Hee hee! (Dead silence, except for SHU, who appears to be desperately smothering his snickering.) NANAMI: Oh, it'll be fun! Me and a couple of the other girls will judge, and all the guys'll participate, and we'll pick one, and then no one will be able to fight over it any more! SHEENA: ... what the hell. Sounds agonizing, but she's sure to pick me. CAMUS: I beg to differ, young man. FLIK: Shouldn't that be 'I and a couple of the other girls'? VIKTOR: ... Yeah. So, you think she'll make you wear a swimsuit? FLIK: Hell no! I'm not entering this travesty! CAMUS: Ah, well, you would have lost anyway. FLIK: ... I BEG your pardon. CAMUS: I do apologize for being so blunt. But we all know that Nanami is simply mad about me, and quite frankly, so are many of the women here. I'll almost certainly win, and then I'll never know another moment's peace. Alas. SHEENA: Geez, how do you fit through doors with that swollen head of yours? VIKTOR: A little more swollen, with that shiner. CAMUS: And whose fault is that? FLIK: Mine, I think. VIKTOR: Yeah, I think that was Flik. Remember, Camus, when you were scratching the hell out of my face... SHEENA: Scratching. Like some chick. Some GIRL. CAMUS: I BEG your pardon. FLIK: That's my line, you slick bastard. NANAMI: ANYWAY! We'll be waiting for a month so that everyone can be in TOP form and not have any icky black eyes and stuff! So everyone be sure to enter! Hooray~! (The meeting breaks up and people wander away in clumps.) (SCENE: The same gathering hall, a month later. Someone's obviously
gotten carried away, because banners and streamers are everywhere. A long
table is set up to one side, marked 'JUDGES', and the hall has been well-supplied
with benches and chairs for the audience. Several folding screens have
been set up to create a makeshift dressing room to one side, and in here
are a number of young men in various stages of undress, getting ready for
the pageant.)
MIKLOTOV: How did you talk me into this, anyway? CAMUS: Because I promised that if you scored higher in the contest than I did, I'd never mention my good looks in your presence again. MIKLOTOV: Ah, that's right. (ZAMZA wanders in and leans against the mirror.) ZAMZA: Camus. Did you steal Zamza's hair gel? CAMUS: Not at all. I'm strictly the blow-dry type. MIKLOTOV: Blow-hard type, you mean. CAMUS: ... you're never going to forgive me for that 'leftovers' remark, are you. MIKLOTOV: Not likely. Anyway, I've got your hair gel, Zamza. Here, catch. (MIKLOTOV tosses a small jar to ZAMZA, who catches it deftly.) ZAMZA: Ah, thank you. MIKLOTOV: Yeah. ZAMZA: ...honestly, some of the people who have entered this contest... they are no match for Zamza's beauty. Why do we not call off this farce and declare Zamza the winner? CAMUS: ... because you're not going to win, unfortunately. ZAMZA: Ah, yes, you are this 'Camus' who thinks he is so beautiful that he must fight his rivals for the title in a shameless hallway battle. Such a pity that you are so without class. CAMUS: ... ZAMZA: You did not see Zamza rolling on the floor. No. Zamza is so beautiful that he has no need to pay attention to these... yapping dogs. Perhaps some day you will learn this lesson from Zamza. Adieu. (ZAMZA sweeps off behind another partition, his robe belling gracefully behind him. MIKLOTOV stuffs most of his fist in his mouth, trying not to laugh.) CAMUS: And what are you snickering about? I seem to remember you were rolling on the floor too... MIKLOTOV: Yes. But wait until you see what I put in his hair gel. CAMUS: ...Gracious me. MIKLOTOV: I think you'll enjoy it... I wonder why Simone and Vincent de Boule didn't enter the contest? As much time as those two spend primping and posing, I would have thought they'd be eager to enter a beauty contest... CAMUS: Really, now, Miklotov. Think about what you said. Simone and Vincent, competing to be named God's Gift to WOMEN? MIKLOTOV: ... Point well taken. (Nearby, SHEENA is obsessively tying and re-tying his sash, continually getting in VIKTOR's way as they fight over the same mirror. VIKTOR has managed to comb all the knots out of his hair, for once, and he is running the brush through his hair over and over again, trying to shape it into something less shaggy. FLIK stands a few feet away, ironing his pants.) SHEENA: I don't know, do you think the sash looks better tied to the left or to the right? Should I wear my jacket or not? I like it, but I might do better in just the sleeveless shirt... do my arms look fat? VIKTOR: Damn, Sheena, will you calm down?... do you think I ought to wear a headband? FLIK: You do and I'll sue. That's my trademark. Sheena, don't wear the jacket, your arms look fine. SHEENA: You think so? I thought so too... but you might just be saying that because you want to win. Viktor, do you think my arms look fat? VIKTOR: No, your arms look stringy like always. SHEENA: Stringy?! My arms are stringy?... I guess I better wear the jacket... should I wear it pulled up high or down around my elbows? Do my elbows poke out? Are my wrists knobby? FLIK: Sheena! CHILL! Your arms look fine, don't wear the jacket unless you really want to. (CLIVE leans in from behind a partition, his hair in curlers.) CLIVE: Yes, definitely, don't wear the jacket. Didn't anyone ever tell you that green and red don't go together? SHEENA: They don't?! Oh no. Should I wear these pants? What about the sash? Different boots? FLIK: Thanks a LOT, Clive. As if you don't wear green and red together all the time. CLIVE (smirking): You're quite welcome. VIKTOR: Love the curlers. CLIVE: Tch. Why are you here anyway, Flik? I thought you were determined not to enter this contest. FLIK: I was. VIKTOR: Nina talked him into it. CLIVE: Ah. Just a TAD whipped, then. VIKTOR: Just a tad. FLIK: Like hell. She badgered me for DAYS. Anything to get that blonde motormouth to shut up. Even parading around onstage like a side of beef. SHEENA: Beef? Does that mean I should wear less? Maybe shorts? Maybe no shirt at all? I don't know... green sash or yellow sash? VIKTOR: If you don't calm down in the next three seconds, Sheena, you're going out there with a black eye. SHEENA: But black doesn't GO WITH THIS OUTFIT! AAAAAGH! (VIKTOR buries his face in his hands and groans.) (SCENE: The main stage. All the contestants are here, standing in a line in front of the audience. NANAMI, YOSHINO, ANITA, VALERIA, LORELAI and TENGAAR are sitting at the judges' table. FITCHER, in a tuxedo, stands in front of the contestants.) FITCHER: Hell-O and welcome to the first annual God's Gift To Women contest! I'm your host, Fitcher, and these are our lovely contestants! Tonight will decide just who in our army is the most beautiful! (Cheers and snickers from the audience. SHEENA fidgets.) FITCHER: To start things off, the talent portion of our show! Let's start with you, young man! (HIX stumbles forward.) FITCHER: And what's your name? HIX: ... huh? I'm Hix, Fitcher. I've got the room right across the hall from yours. You know me... FITCHER: Ladies and gentlemen, Hix! (Scattered applause from the audience. Wolf whistles from TENGAAR, who is quickly shushed by the other five judges.) FITCHER: And what talent will you be showing us tonight, Hix? HIX: I'll be... I'll be risking my life in a show of bravery, Fitcher. TENGAAR (from the judges' booth): What?! You will not. Get out there and play the banjo like we practiced! FITCHER: Well! Ladies and gentlemen, a feat of bravery from Hix! Okay, lad, go to it! (HIX takes a deep breath. Then he faces the judges booth.) HIX (screaming): I NEVER LIKED YOU, TENGAAR, YOU MANIPULATIVE NEEDY LITTLE BRAT! WHY THE HELL CAN'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE? (Dead silence. Then HIX speaks again.) HIX: And now, I'll be defying the death I just called down upon myself... bye! (An outraged shriek erupts from TENGAAR as HIX bolts for the door. The judges' table spills over as TENGAAR vaults over it. Both HIX and TENGAAR disappear out the door, although TENGAAR's angry shrieks can be heard for some time.) FITCHER: ... Ladies and Gentlemen, Hix! (Uproarious applause, punctuated by shouts of 'Way to go Hix!' and 'That's telling her!'. The judges right the spilled table and drag EMILIA out of the audience to be a judge in TENGAAR's place. Eventually, the roar dies down as FITCHER motions for silence.) FITCHER: And next, we have... Viktor, a hometown favorite! (Applause again as VIKTOR steps forward, grinning and waving to the audience.) FITCHER: So, Viktor, what talent will you be demonstrating to us today? VIKTOR: Target spitting, Fitcher. (The talent portion of the program continues. LUC performs a fairly startling gymnastics routine, assisted by two muscular wind creatures; FREED stumbles through a fairly inept comedic routine; CLIVE shows off his sharpshooting skills (nearly killing EILIE, out in the audience); FLIK recites a dramatic monologue while taking off most of his clothing, which goes over very well with the judges, if not so well with the other contestants; MIKLOTOV demonstrates how he can disassemble and reassemble his incredibly complicated Matildan armor while blindfolded... and so on. Finally the talent portion of the contest limps to a stop.) FITCHER: ... and that was Camus, ladies and gentlemen, singing 'How Brown Were My Eyes'! And that brings the talent portion of our contest to an end! (Scattered applause from the sleepy-eyed audience. ANITA, drowsing, jerks awake and nearly falls off her chair.) FITCHER: And now, the second portion of our show, the swimsuit contest! (Much more enthusiastic applause and feminine whistling. All the judges sit upright and pay keen attention.) VIKTOR: Awright! (VIKTOR starts yanking off his clothes. After a moment, so do most of the other contestants, save CAMUS and MIKLOTOV.) MIKLOTOV (under his breath): What are you going to do, Camus? We didn't bring swimsuits with us from Rockaxe... did you manage to borrow one? CAMUS (extremely loudly, in a stage whisper pitched to carry): Oh! You're RIGHT, Miklotov! I didn't bring a swimsuit! I suppose that I will just have to compete NAKED instead! (The audience hushes. NANAMI's eyes gleam. APPLE, out in the audience, faints. The rest of the judges alternately blush, squeal, and grin evilly. The other contestants glare at CAMUS with varying degrees of hatred. SHEENA pulls at the waistband of his swimsuit and appears to be contemplating removing it.) MIKLOTOV (under his breath): I hate you. I really do. FITCHER: Well, um... we can't have that! Does anyone have a swimsuit that CAMUS can borrow? (The judges glare out at the audience, daring them to speak up. Then, someone does:) HOI: I do! CAMUS: ... oh no. (All the color drains out of CAMUS' face as HOI runs out and shortly returns, lumbering up onto the stage clutching a swath of yellow-and-red-striped cloth. A brief altercation breaks out, but in the end CAMUS is pushed backstage and forced to change. FLIK, looking uncharacteristically gleeful, drags CAMUS back out onto stage.) CAMUS: I... I... why must I suffer so?! (CAMUS is loosely dressed in a huge yellow-and-red-striped swimming suit, complete with tank top that flaps about his torso. The bottom hem of the shorts hangs beneath his knees, and he has to keep grabbing at the straps to keep them from falling. The other contestants smirk, all except SHEENA, who is glancing around constantly, appraising the others.) FITCHER: Let's get this underway, folks! (The swimsuit competition begins. Various men in various forms of 'swimwear' strut and cavort onstage, surreptitiously flexing their muscles. FLIK, wearing an extremely tiny thong swimsuit that might pass as a decent eyepatch, winks at SHEENA, looking uncomfortable in his loose trunks. MIKLOTOV, smirking in his bikini briefs, grins at the sullen CAMUS. VIKTOR (green trunks with little black bears printed on them) grabs CLIVE (bright red trunks) and gives him a furious noogie.) FITCHER: Aren't they LOVELY, ladies and gentlemen? Let's have a big hand for these lovely... er... gentlemen! (Applause starts. Suddenly shrieking erupts as CAMUS, pushed to his limit, lets the tent-like swimsuit drop from his shoulders to puddle on the floor, thus fulfilling his earlier threat to compete naked after all. Several furious contestants pounce on CAMUS and hustle him offstage, perhaps a bit more roughly than necessary. A brawl erupts.) FITCHER: Gentlemen! Gentlemen, PLEASE! Do I have to start disqualifying you?! (The shrieking escalates as CAMUS wrests himself away from FLIK, ripping off FLIK's thong swimsuit in the process. FLIK turns red and dives for the dressing rooms, as VIKTOR gets CAMUS in a tight headlock. CAMUS starts to turn purple. Finally, at a yell from FITCHER, several brawny members of the army leap onstage from the audience and separate the squabbling contestants. Only minor cosmetic damage and embarrassment result.) FITCHER: Well, we were going to have an interview section, ladies and gentlemen, but I think perhaps we'd best quit while we're ahead! Judges! You've seen the army's finest in street clothes, in swimsuits, and displaying their myriad talents! (An angry shriek from TENGAAR and a yell of pain from HIX punctuate this statement.) FITCHER: Er... so, ladies and gentlemen! The judges will now retire and make their final decisions! Contestants, please take your places! (The judges file out of the gathering hall, talking excitedly amongst
themselves. The contestants, after a few moments of confusion, manage to
form up into a ragged line across the stage, putting their clothes back
on and attempting to fix the damage done by the brief brawl. CAMUS, dressed
again, is attempting to smooth his ragged hair and ignoring the glares
of the other participants, throwing smiles out at the audience. VIKTOR
tosses an armload of clothing into the dressing rooms, and shortly a dressed
FLIK comes back out, still faintly red in the face. SHEENA pulls a comb
from his back pocket and smooths his hair nervously. MIKLOTOV, after a
single disdainful glance towards CAMUS, moves to the other end of the line
from him, straightening his complex armor.)
VIKTOR: Man, Flik. I never thought you had the stones to wear a thong-thing like that. FLIK: I wasn't going to, that's for sure. But after Nina badgered me into entering, I decided that I'd be DAMNED if I let that jackass Camus do better than I did. MIKLOTOV: Hear, hear. FLIK: I'm damned well starting to regret it, though. Stupid thing snapped like string when Camus grabbed it. VIKTOR: Eh, don't worry about it. It probably won you a couple of votes. (MIKLOTOV smirks quietly. FLIK turns red again.) FLIK: Oh, shut up. SHEENA: I think I should have worn something smaller... no, larger, smaller would have made me look like I was copying you... maybe I should try wearing blue? Instead of green? FLIK: Don't you dare. That's my trademark. SHEENA: Oh, right, okay... but do you think maybe I should let my hair grow? (FLIK's obviously exasperated answer is cut short by the return of the judges. All the contestants fall silent as the judges find their seats, then FITCHER bounds forward again.) FITCHER: Ladies and gentlemen, we have a WINNER! (Silence reigns. The audience is rapt, the contestants are frozen with nerves. Only the faint shrieks of TENGAAR can be heard, far in the distance.) FITCHER: Judges, have you reached a decision? (NANAMI bounces up.) NANAMI: You betcha we have! It took us a while because we have so many wonderful contestants, and one of the judges insisted on holding out for Freed, which is just gross... (YOSHINO looks mostly pleased with herself, right up until the word 'gross' . FREED looks like he wants to slink off and die.) FITCHER: All right! Aaaaaaand who, pray tell, is our second runner-up? NANAMI: Huh? FITCHER: Uh... who came in third? NANAMI: Oh! Our second runner-up is... Miklotov!! (Cheering. The other contestants all applaud. MIKLOTOV looks stunned ad FITCHER races over and drops a diamond tiara on his head. CAMUS still looks sanguine.) FITCHER: Miklotov, ladies and gentlemen! And now, who is our first runner-up, who will serve in case our winner cannot? NANAMI: Huh? FITCHER: I'm supposed to say that. Who came in second, Nanami? NANAMI: Our first runner-up waaaaaas... FLIK! (Now it's FLIK's turn to get a diamond tiara. FLIK doesn't know whether to look happy or upset that he came in second, but all the rest of the contestants are clapping. SHEENA looks like he's about to throw up, VIKTOR looks resigned but is grinning anyway, and CAMUS still looks sanguine.) FITCHER: And now! The moment you've all been waiting for! VOICE FROM THE AUDIENCE: And waiting for, and waiting for, and waiting for... (Mild laughter. FITCHER waits until it dies down.) FITCHER: Nanami! Tell us please! Who is the winner! Who among us is truly God's Gift to Women?! (Members of the audience start stomping their feet in a pseudo-drumroll. NANAMI raises her voice into a cracked scream to be heard over it.) NANAMI: THE WINNER IS... JOWY!! (Dead silence. The 'drumroll' stops. Even TENGAAR and HIX are silent in the background. SHU clears his throat. CAMUS looks like his world has just shattered. Finally, the silence is broken.) FLIK: JOWY?! (And suddenly, every voice in the auditorium is raised and babbling. ZAMZA looks indignant and pulls off his hood, as if to throw it... and about half of his hair comes with it. He stares at the hunks of hair in his hand and shrieks in agony, adding to the general confusion. CAMUS slowly sinks down to sit on the floor. After a few minutes of the pandemonium, NANAMI slowly restores order by banging on the tabletop with her nunchaku.) NANAMI: SHUT UP! SHUT UP! He was a member of this army for a few weeks and the judges' decision is FINAL! Jowy is God's Gift To Women! NOW SHUT UP! FLIK: But he didn't even compete! Hell, HIX has more reason to win than Jowy! NANAMI: I said that our decision is FINAL and you will ACCEPT that! VIKTOR: Man oh man, we got screwed. (CAMUS buries his face in his hands. SHEENA looks pale, and suddenly pitches forward in a dead faint. FLIK crosses his arms and looks peevish. CLIVE pulls his cloak forward over his eyes.) NANAMI: THANK you. And furthermore, since the winner is not here to claim his prizes, the first runner-up is hereby drafted to deliver them to the winner. FLIK: WHAT?! Are you SERIOUSLY suggesting that I should walk up to the new Highland King and give him a bouquet of roses and a tiara and tell him he's God's Gift To Women? They would disembowel me in seconds! It's suicide! NANAMI: The. Judges'. Decision. Is. FINAL! You will do as I say or, so help me, I'll make your life a living HELL, Flik. (Suddenly NANAMI's demonic expression vanishes utterly, and the cute, perky NANAMI smiles out again.) NANAMI: Thank you all soooooo much for coming! A big thank you to all our contestants... let's give them a round of applause! (Scattered applause as the judges file out, then the crowd begins to break up and leave the room. The contestants stand around on the stage in various stages of shock. FLIK is standing there spluttering with fury. VIKTOR walks over and picks up the unconscious SHEENA, slapping his cheeks until SHEENA comes around. MIKLOTOV takes off his tiara, fingers it gingerly, then smirks just a little and walks over to CAMUS.) MIKLOTOV (prodding CAMUS with his foot): Hey. God's Gift to Women. CAMUS (muffled through his hands): Go away. Leave me to my shame. MIKLOTOV: Whatever you say, Camus. I'm just reminding you that I'm going to hold you to your end of our bargain. (CAMUS jerks his head up.) CAMUS: Oh, hell. But... if I can't talk about how beautiful I am, what will I talk about? Oh, I am ruined! MIKLOTOV: Not my problem, Camus. I'm going back to my room now... be a good boy and give Hoi back his swimsuit now. (MIKLOTOV snaps off a smart salute in CAMUS' direction and pivots, heading out of the room. In the background you can hear ZAMZA, screaming 'GODS! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ONE SUCH AS ZAMZA?!') SHEENA: Oh, I don't feel too good... I think I'm going to throw up... (VIKTOR hastily puts SHEENA down. SHEENA bolts for the dressing room. In a moment, you can hear SHEENA being noisily ill. Most of the contestants have left the room by this point; only FLIK, VIKTOR, and FITCHER are left onstage.) FITCHER: Congratulations, Flik! Now, here's Jowy's crown and robes... I trust you'll take care of that properly? (FLIK is incoherent with rage. VIKTOR takes the stuff from FITCHER and shoos FITCHER away.) FLIK: So help me, Viktor, I won't do this! VIKTOR: Can't say I blame you, Flik. FLIK: How dare she? How DARE she? VIKTOR: Calm down, will you? You can always just ditch it somewhere and spend a few weeks holed up in another town... FLIK: Dammit, I wish I could, but those two have been best friends since they were babies... if I don't do this properly and she finds out, she'll have my head on a stake. I thought I couldn't possibly hate anyone more than I hate that little blond turncoat Jowy... VIKTOR: ...hey, I've got an idea. (SCENE: L'Renouille Castle, the main gate, about a month later. FLIK is here, seated astride his horse in front of two perplexed and nervous guards. After a moment, JOWY comes to the gate, looking confused, but interested.) JOWY: Flik. FLIK: Jowy. Here, Nanami sent me to give you this. (FLIK tosses the diamond crown and robes to JOWY, who catches them but looks confused.) JOWY: Er, it's a lovely ensemble, if incredibly wussy-looking. What's it for? FLIK: Well, Nanami just wanted to let you know that she's found herself a REAL man, Jowy. And after a couple of months with him... well... and I quote... 'All that wuss Jowy is good for now is as my lady-in-waiting. Bring him his dress and tiara, Flik, my lover, and inform him of his -new- place in my heart.' (FLIK wheels the horse around and bolts down the road at top speed. Behind him, stunned silence gives way to shouts, but FLIK is long out of sight before any pursuit can be mobilized. FLIK rides for home, a most evil grin lingering on his face.) FLIK: Damn, Viktor, I owe you one. (CURTAIN.) |
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COMMENTS: That was freaking LONG! It wasn't supposed to balloon like this, but I just kept thinking of things to do... fifteen pages in MacWrite. The longest I've ever done before was about six and a half. Yoish. I did gloss over several things, and cut the others kind of short. If I'd tried to show all the talents, and do all the interviews, this fic would have ended up well over thirty pages, and frankly, it was more than I was willing to put into it. Oh well. I was so evil to poor Camus and Sheena. Actually, I was evil to pretty
much everyone, wasn't I? Zamza deserved it, though. Snobby bastard.
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