Warnings, Disclaimers, And All That Jazz: They're not mine. None of them. Not even the Riv. I'm making Absolutely No Money, What-so-ever. Don't sue me. It would be Impolite, Un-Mountie-like, and Down-Right Unproductive. Not to mention Rude.
This is nothing but a silly piece of fluff that I thought up while making the bed. Honest. Genius (Okay, okay! Maybe not genius per se...) comes at the strangest times.
Oh, and one other Thing: All I know about Capitolization, I learned from
Emily Dickenson. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++
A green Buick Riviara (a chariot fit for any Prince) pulls to a stop at the curb next to the Canadian Consulate of Chicago. Out pops our Hero, the ever wonderful green-eyed Italian, Detective Ray Vecchio. Hero, because, at the moment, someone is in desperate need of his help. Someone in the form of a Mountie statue bravely guarding his home turf against vicious American school children and other related ilk. Our (Damsel?) In Destress is one Constable Benny, and Our Villan- a young blond woman contentedly pawing at red surge. Immediatly, our Hero springs into action.
"Hey! Hands off!"
Our Villan turns slowly to face Our Hero. "Excuse me?"
"I said, 'Hey! Hands off!'"
Our Evil Villan smiles and returns to her previous occupation. "You can't make me. You're not Canadian."
"Of course not. I'm Italian."
Our Villan crosses her arms over her chest and spins to face Our Shining Hero. "Is that suposed to mean something?" Her eyes drift skyward in an Expression Of Extreme Bordom.
Our Hero: "Canadians are polite."
Our Vile Villan: "So you're definately not Canadian."
Our Ever-Witty Hero responds with a perfect set-up line. "No. Like I said.- I'm Italian. ...And you know what they say about Italians..."
Our Villan stupidly plays along, albeit with another Expression Of Extreme Bordom. "No... What do they say about Italians?" Gum is popped for added emphasis.
Our Hero gives a Beautifully Wicked Grin, in anticipation of victory. "That we're Jealous, Possesive, and have Violent Tempers. Now hands off my Mountie!" He is greeted by a puff of smoke, as Our Villan vanishes from before his eyes.
Just then, the Clock Strikes Five.
Our (Damsel?) In Distress is Magically released from the Curse set on him by the Evil Dragon. He turn's to face the Victorious Italian.
"My Hero," He says, just before the End Of Story Kiss (Which is, after all, customary in situations like this one).
coments, flames, and mushy love notes welcome at email@example.com