Part 2

*brrrrzapt*

*thudclatterrollscatter*

The ARSE had appeared pretty much where it had the last time--near the back of Attitudes. Of course, since there was a lot more of it, it was a good bit more crowded. It was probably a good thing that the shop was dark and closed at the moment, since it might have materialized on top of someone.

However, 'closed' did not mean 'deserted'. The noise came from a very startled, very handsome boy. He was perhaps a tiny bit older than Scott, with rich red-brown curls, and astoundingly green eyes (which were roughly the size of saucers at the moment.) He'd just dropped a small box of beauty supplies.

Trenton Vittelli stared at the weird contraption that had just popped into existence between himself and the private station. It looked like a row of silver recliners, one of which had a sort of dashboard and a sparkly plastic soup bowl on an arm attached. The chairs were occupied by a small, stern looking woman, a handsome, well dressed man wearing an eye patch, a very cute, slightly punkish looking boy about his age who was holding... Trenton peered closer. It most closely resembled a hairless cat. There was also an odd looking bald man wearing the soup bowl, and on the bald man's lap, a bald toddler. And they were all staring at him.

Clive's voice drifted back from the private station, "Precious, are you all right? Did something go oopsa-daisy?"

"Clive?" Trent's voice was a little strangled. "I think you'd better come see this."

There was an open door set in the back wall, shedding light, and offering tantalizing glimpses of a dark and glittery interior. The doorway was darkened by the lean silhouette of a man. "Sweetheart, what's got your knickers in a bunch? Oh." He peered at the ARSE, then reached out and flipped a switch, flooding the front part of the shop with light. "Oh, dear. It doesn't look any better in the light." Everyone on the ARSE was staring at him. They saw a sternly beautiful man in his mid-to late thirties. He was dressed in black jeans, high black boots, and a black suede shirt. Scott leered, Number Two loosened his collar, and Frau felt the urge to fan herself. "Will one of you tell me precisely WHAT such an ugly contraption is doing in my sublime shop?"

Scott waved. "Hi, Clive."

Clive squinted at him, then his eyebrows lifted. "As I live and breathe--Scott Evil. I'll admit that I've been hoping you'd come back, but really, darling--did you HAVE to bring that godawful monstrosity with you?"

"We didn't bring Mini Me on purpose. He sort of stowed away. Actually, this trip is sort of... spontaneous. I better make the intros. This handsome dude is Number Two."

Clive smiled charmingly. "Well, if you're Number Two, I'd love to see Number One." Dr. Evil cleared his throat. "You're kidding, right?"

"That's my Dad--Dr. Evil. This is my Mom."

"You can call me Frau," she said, "My, vhat lovely boots."

"Thank you, dear lady. You have taste. Clive, what is that creature on your lap?"

"This is Biggie, formally known as Mister Bigglesworth. He's one of my best buds," Scott said.

"Scott," said Clive severely, "were you naughty with an electric shaver?"

"No, he's just like this, cross my heart."

"Actually," said Dr. Evil, "Mister Bigglesworth's nude state is due to the incompetence of a former minion--Mustaffa. He has paid for his carelessness. At least a I THINK he has. The man seems to have more frickin' lives than the cat."

"Well, there's one bizarre creature explained. Now, care to explain the one that's currently sitting on YOUR lap? And while you're at it, can you explain why he seems to be dripping catsup all over my floor?" said Clive.

"It's not catsup--sweet-and-sour sauce," said Dr. Evil."

Clive blinked. "Oh, well, that makes things MUCH clearer."

Dr. Evil patted Mini Me. "This is Mini Me--my clone." Mini Me grinned at Clive, wiggling his fingers.

Clive stared, then sighed and put a hand to his forehead. "Trenton, precious, do you still have that tin of aspirin?" Trenton nodded. "I'm in need. Be a lamb and fetch me some water."

"Gotcha. I'll get you a bottle out of your office fridge." Trenton started to squeeze between the ARSE and the chairs and counters of the beautician stations. He was just about to slither past Dr. Evil and Mini Me. Mini Me was just about at butt level, and he was eyeing Trenton's ass. He started to reach out, fingers ready for a pinch.

Trenton was suddenly whisked the last few inches away, and Mini Me found Clive's face on a level with his own. The Dom's expression was stony. "Consider carefully--do you REALLY want to do that?" Mini Me gave a weak smile and sat back.

As Trenton went back into the office, Clive leaned one hip against a counter, folding his arms. "Now, then, as I recall, Scott, your last visit was limited by an automated return." He smiled at Frau. "I'd have been babysitting your brat indefinitely if I couldn't sprint."

Frau smiled fondly at Scott. "Mein schattzie can be a bit of a handful."

Clive nodded. "In many varied and delightful ways. But as I was saying, how long will you be staying this time? Is there only enough time for us to sit and chat for a bit, or should I plan on treating you all to dinner at Lavender's Green?"

"I dunno," said Scott. "Dad, did you change the return time setting?"

Dr. Evil blinked. "What return time setting?"

"You know--how the ARSE automatically returns to it's point of origin after a set limit of time."

"Oh--that. I disabled it. Seemed far too limiting."

"Cool. Now we can just visit for awhile, and..."

"Instead I fixed it where an amount of time has to be specified before the ARSE launches. Much more efficient that way."

Scott's eyes narrowed. "You didn't say anything about that while you were setting up this fiasco." Dr. Evil stared at him. "Oh, all right! While you were setting up this," he made quotation marks in the air, "demonstration."

"Scott, Daddy has to have SOME secrets."

Scott glanced quickly at Clive, who arched an eyebrow at him, then glared back at Dr. Evil. "Please don't refer to yourself as 'Daddy'. It gives me all kinds of disturbing mental images. Either use a pronoun or call yourself Papa, or something. No Daddy."

*blink* "Riiiight. Anyway, I didn't set the time limit. Mini Me seems to have done that when he scrambled up."

"So how long are we here?"

Dr. Evil consulted a read-out. "Oh, not very long," he said nonchalantly.

"How long?"

"No more than," Dr. Evil snapped his fingers, "THAT, in the grand scheme of things."

Scott closed his eyes. "How long?"

"When you consider the Judeo-Christian belief that the entire world was created in only six days..."

"HOW LONG?"

"Snap a person's head off, why don't you?"

"That IS an option," said Clive ominously. He cracked his knuckles.

"Three days, six hours, twenty-four minutes and..." Dr. Evil looked at the tiny screen again, "eleven seconds." Trenton had returned. He handed Clive a plastic bottle of water and, as the Dom cracked it open, took a flat tin box out of his pocket, opened it, and offered it to Clive. Dr. Evil paused as Clive fished out two aspirin and popped them in his mouth. "Give or take a nanosecond."

Clive sighed, and swallowed two more aspirin. "It looks as if we'll be able to have dinner after all."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Clive and Trenton entered Lavender's Green, with Scott and Number Two right behind them. Tinkerbell the waitress caroled, "It's Clive, and he's brought cute guys with him!" Frau, Dr. Evil, and Mini Me followed. "Uh... among other things." Clive led everyone over to one of the big tables, and they took seats. Tinkerbell trotted over, whipping out an order pad. "Hey!" she chirped. "Something from the bar?"

"Oh, most DEFINITELY, precious. I'm in dire need. I'll have a Flaming Yellow Snow. Trenton, your usual?" Trenton nodded. "And one Dead Lab Rat." Clive smiled charmingly at Frau. "For Madam?"

"Some peppermint schnapps vould be nice," Frau said demurely.

"Mom," Scott said, a warning tone in his voice. "Remember what happened the last time you had schnapps in public? They pitched you out of the Strippendale review.~"

Frau scowled. "I schtill say I vasn't any raunchier zan zat bimbo, Helga Krinklemier. She schtuck a tventy in Tarzan's G-string, zen tried to take fifteen dollars in change--vith her TEETH." She shrugged. "But you're right, liebling. I'll chust haf a beer."

Clive glanced at Number Two. "And for the gentleman?"

Number Two straightened his tie. "Martini, please. Shaken, not stirred."

"Somehow I'm not surprised. Scott, are you of age?"

Scott held up two fingers in a boy scout salute. "On my honor as a slacker. Yo, Blondie--you got Mountain Dew?"

Tinkerbell nodded vigorously. "You mean that yellow-green soda that will kick your butt with caffeine? Scribe brought a sample over and had Superman analyze it. It's getting quite a market."

"Then I'll have a wine cooler made with that?" Clive covered his eyes. "What?"

"Never mind, dear. Now..." He looked at Dr. Evil. "You?" Dr. Evil pressed his fingertips together before his chin and looked thoughtful. They waited. And waited. "Oh, for heaven's sake, you aren't deciding the fate of the free world! Bring him something fruity in a coconut shell," he ordered.

Dr. Evil made the peace sign. "Two paper umbrellas. I collect them."

Tinkerbell was scribbling. "Okey-dokey. I'll be right back with..." *ahem* Mini Me, who had been sitting on Dr. Evil's lap, pressed his hands on the table and raised up. Tinkerbell pointed with her pencil. "Oh, I'm sorry, but children aren't allowed!"

Mini Me bared his teeth, and Dr. Evil petted him soothingly. "He is not a child," he said archly.

Tinkerbell looked doubtful. "Yeah? How old is he?"

Mini Me and Dr. Evil exchanged looks. Dr. Evil looked at Tinkerbell. "Well, if you INSIST on going by actual existence as a separate entity, then he's about five. But the original DNA is..." He trailed off. Everyone looked at him expectantly. "Of age."

Clive sighed. "Just bring two of whatever the larger version is having, Tink. I believe that if anyone starts to ask questions, whether or not he's old enough to drink will NOT be the hardest thing to explain."

"If you say so, Clive. I'll drop these off with Bryant. Anything to eat?"

Scott said, "We filled up on weiner schnitzel before we came."

"Not all of us," said Dr. Evil.

"Elise is in charge of the kitchen here, and she's a sorceress with food," Clive assured him.

"Can she make Hot Pockets?" Clive and Tinkerbell stared at him. "You don't have Hot Pockets?"

"Actually," said Clive, "we do. Something else Scribe imported. She said she was semi-addicted to the bar-be-que version."

"She sounds like my kind of woman."

Clive bared his teeth. "I'd rethink that."

"Riiight."

"Tink, whatever Elise has ready--one regular, and one senior's portion."

Dr. Evil bristled. "I am not a senior citizen."

"I know that, you twit. I meant for your animated 3D miniature self-portrait. They don't HAVE a child's plate. Go, Tink." Tinkerbell scampered off.

Scott was looking around happily. "Dude, I am so glad you brought us here. I've been wanting to visit Lavender's Green since I read chapter eight of Career Girl Blues. This has to rank right up there for coolest club with The Bronze."

Dr. Evil looked around. "I don't see what makes it so special."

A tiny dark haired woman, wearing a minimum amount of black leather and a lot of pale skin, came to the table. "Excuse me, but would you care to dance?"

Dr. Evil simpered, little finger to mouth. "I'm with someone."

"I wasn't asking you," she said coldly. She gave Frau a smile. "How about it?"

Frau stood up. Dr. Evil said, "Frau, you aren't going to...?"

"Zey're playing a valtz," she told him. They were. It was a little odd, considering that the band consisted of keyboard, drums, base, two guitars, and a saxophone, but they were doing a creditable job. Frau and the woman moved into approved ballroom positions (the stranger taking the lead), and they sailed off.

"Well, that was... unexpected," commented Dr. Evil.

A young man in a tank top, jeans, and engineer boots tapped Number Two on the shoulder. "Wanna dance?"

Number Two flushed. "I..."

"You can lead."

Number Two stood up. "I won a dance trophy my junior year at prep school."

As they waltzed off, his partner said, "You went to an all boy school? Kinky!"

"You have no idea."

Scott looked over at Trenton. "I never thought I'd ask someone to tell me stories about when they went to school, but I'm revising that idea."

Dr. Evil folded his hands in his lap. "I'm very confused."

Scott snorted. "Why should now be any different? This is a gay club."

"That's not what's confusing me. I can't understand why THEY got asked to dance, and I'm still a wallflower." A woman was walking past. "Would you like to...?" She started limping. "Oh-kaaay." A man was going in the opposite direction. "Would you like to dance?"

"As a matter of fact, I would." He grabbed Scott's collar, hauling him up out of his seat. "C'mon, sexy."

"I can't waltz!" Scott protested as he was whisked away.

"Just hang on."

"That I can do."

Dr. Evil's bottom lip poked out. Mini Me hopped down, then held up his hand invitingly. Dr. Evil stood, taking it. "All right, but I get to lead." Mini Me stamped his foot. "I'm taller, and I'm going to be getting a crick in my back bending down, so don't complain." They danced off, leaving a trail of couples tripping in shock.

Clive sighed, covering his eyes. "You know, Trent, there are times I almost regret that I don't do drugs. I'm going to have to start thinking about how we're going to put these people up."

Trenton rested his chin on Clive's shoulder, then batted his eyelashes. "Can Scott or Number Two sleep in our bed?"

Clive chuckled, pinching his chin. "My sweet, horny little lamb. I tell you what... I think that Scott would make an excellent bed toy, and the couch is only a few steps away, so Number Two can have that. Bri probably wouldn't mind sharing his bed with somebody..."

"Clive!" Trenton cut his eyes toward Dr. Evil and Mini Me. Mini Me was now standing on Dr. Evil's feet, taking a ride, as it were.

"Good God, darling, give me credit, will you? I was thinking more of the sternly charming Frau." Trenton looked doubtful. Frau danced past. She'd apparently been cut in on, or done the cutting in herself, because now she was dancing with a rather wispy young man with hair longer than her own. She was leading. "She seems to be a fairly open minded sort, and Bri has been feeling very adventurous since he broke away from The Asshole That Walked on Two Legs."

"That still leaves... those."

"Hm. I suppose a kennel would be out of the question?"

"They ARE sort of related to Scott."

"Precious, I hardly think he'd mind, but still--no." Clive brightened. "There's always the dungeon. It has a cot, and that restraint table is quite comfortably padded."

The waltz ended, and everyone returned to the table. Scott grinned at Trenton and showed him his hand. There was a phone number inked on his palm. Number Two said, "Scott, that isn't a wise thing to do." Dr. Evil was nodding. Number Two held up a small notebook--one with a fresh set of digits entered on the first page. "I'll get you a notebook, like mine."

Frau sighed. "I didn't get a number. Ze little fellow's girlfriend didn't mind, but hiss boyfriend did."

Dr. Evil rolled his eyes. "I'm surrounded by sex crazed deviants."

"Yes," said Clive placidly, "and I don't see HOW you could have been good enough to deserve it."