From ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com Tue Nov 11 21:53:12 1997 Path: news2.ispnews.com!news1.ispnews.com!europa.clark.net!199.60.229.5!newsfeed.direct.ca!news.he.net!news.cyberg8t.com!not-for-mail From: ereshkgl@cyberg8t.com (Ruth Gifford) Newsgroups: alt.fan.q Subject: Yet Another Revenge Challenge Story Date: 12 Nov 1997 05:53:12 GMT Organization: GiffStein Lines: 177 Message-ID: <64bg88$2el$1@nntp.cyberg8t.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: host18.riv.cyberg8t.com Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: Text/Plain; charset=US-ASCII X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.99.8 (x86 32bit) Xref: news2.ispnews.com alt.fan.q:917 Nope not from me, I'm still trying to get the big hair to lie down again. This one's from . . . Well the title says it all. Any feedback should be either tossed back to me or sent to: menippee@rain.org Ruth PS Deb obviously meant to mention that Q is the property of Paramount, Jim, Blair, Simon and Taggart are the property of Pet Fly (and yes, this is chock full of "Sentinel" references), and that the condo is the property of our parents. "Hi, My Name Is Debra T. and I'm a Sentinel Slasher" by Debra Tabor It was the first rainy day Southern California had seen in about nine months and my God were the Angelenos going nuts or what. "Big rig jack-knifes on the 210...Film at Eleven. One man's anguish: An entertainment lawyer from Sherman Oaks wonders why he went to Harvard Law just to end up with a swimming pool he can only use ten months out of the year. Full story at eleven. Further bulletins as events warrant." In a cozy condiminium in Ventura, north of Los Angeles, the weather meant less than nothing. A twenty-something woman, bundled hair bristling with ballpoints, was making notes on a complex chart as she poked at a PC keyboard. "Carnival des animaux...not in catalog," she muttered, then went on to the next record. "Five works listed in catalog for Falla, Manuel de, and not a one of them is 'Three-Cornered Hat.' Tsk, tsk." "What do you think you're doing?" an oddly familiar voice drawled from back and to the left. The brunette turned toward him with abstracted menace. "I believe I'm indexing the Foster Library CD collection. Unless you have information to the contrary?" "You're not writing," the ornery omniscent one said. "Nope, not today. Can't post anyway...long story," she said. The computer blooped. "Shit," she muttered. ALIX kicked you off at the drop of hat. She sighed and turned to Q, for that was indeed who her visitor was. "What is it you want from me anyway?" Q waved a thick stack of printouts at her. "What do *you* think?" She looked at the papers. "Those are my stories!" She looked more closely. "Well, the fanfic anyway." "Yeah," said Q cruelly. "'Life, Thoughts, and Deeds of Hieronymous Jobs?' I only do first person if it's about me, baby." The brunette was flipping through the pages as Q continued to clutch them. "My god! Not just Treksmut, but 'Highlander'! And, from my Days of Shame, 'X-Files'! And, and..." "That's right...you may have changed your name, your pairing, your fandom, and your server, *Ms* *Tabor*, but I know your work when I see it." "Nooooooo!" "Really, having Ruth do Debra Tabor's Sentinel Slash and Ice Cream Parlor was a dead giveaway." "Noooooooo!" "So I'm here because you've done ONE (1) story with Jean-Luc and NONE (0) with me! Unless you count that dreadful 'Pet's Day Out,' which I for one do not. Like I'd be caught alive at IKEA. And the more serious stuff? Picard and Crusher in some kind of 'Same Time, Next Year' meets 'Clio, The Whip Lady' scenaro? Puh-leeze. A single DS9 story, not about me. Some 'Voyager,' not about me. I didn't even get to join in the orgy. Either of them." Q pouted. "And I would have made a great Greaser," he added, and was instantly outfitted in blue jeans, black T-shirt, and a leather jacket. Debra shivered. "Ooooooh." Q leaned in to whisper to her. "Still don't think I'm attractive?" he asked seductively. Resolutely, Debra shook her head. "Never! My heart belongs to another pairing now!" Q threw a copy of 'You Can Call Me Anytime' at her. "Hah! I could crush your 'Sentinel' like a mouth-breathing bug," he sneered. "He's not dumb," she defended. "It's allergies! It must be allergies!" "And," Q continued, paying her no never-mind, "I'd take your precious *Blair*, give his hair to my Darling One, and the rest of him to Garak." Debra trembled with fear. "No! He's not strong enough! Just last week, Myrna brought him out of remission for another go-round with chemo. Just because Scully makes it look easy doesn't mean cancer's a day at the beach!" "And as for Simon," Q continued inexorably,"Well, let's just say that Taggert's been looking a little lonesome lately..." "I'll do it," Debra sobbed. "I'll come back to Trek and write you a nice story..." "That's more like it," Q said, leaning back with satisfaction. "Can I do a crossover?" Debra asked hopefully. Q considered her request. "Nope," he said after a moment. "I don't want to star in 'Yet More Synchronicity.' Trek, Debra, gotta be Trek." "OK," she sighed. "You do realize everyone on SENAD will be out for my blood? They're a demanding bunch, and they want 'One and Only'. They want more Paint Chips. I haven't done a 'Shaman Boy' in weeks. And I'm so far behind on beta-ing and answering LoC's that I haven't had time to write a 10K essay on 'Why Blair's New Sideburns Suck.'" "Not my problem," said Q dismissively. "Someone with your gift for rationalization and relentless self-promotion should weasel out of their demands quite nicely. And if you write a really, really nice one, I'll put in a good word for you with the nice folks at 'Jeopardy!'." Hope flared in myopic brown eyes. "I'll do what I can," she promised. "And I see that, nature and nurture be damned, you aren't as appalling with the ellipses as your sister...yet. What's more, I have a negative incentive," Q added evilly, and showed Debra something that made her blanch. "'Professional Ballroom Dancers' Quarterly'?" Debra asked nervously. "Look at the cover, baby," Q suggested not at all nicely. And there it was: the snub nose. The long hair, teased and chignoned to a faretheewell. Brown eyes highlighted with frosted green eyeshadow. Sparkly dress cut so low in front and back that Debra had two sets of cleavage. And, there he was, back and to the left, her partner. "Riker?" Debra squeaked. "In a spandex catsuit," Q growled. "So be good." "I promise," Debra sobbed. Q gathered up a few stray pages and began to wink out. Disconcertingly, he paused in mid-dematerialization to ask, "Oh, and could you send me Part 5 of 'Who Loves You, Baby?' My server ate it..." Debra screamed and didn't come. The End... -- *************************************************** * Ruth | Visit GiffStein Productions * * Gifford | http://www.cyberg8t.com/ereshkgl/ * *-------------------------------------------------* * alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated * * Resistance is possible, but why bother? * *-------------------------------------------------* * Better living thru TrekSmut--See for Yourself! * * http://www.capital.net/users/rjs1/asce * *************************************************** "Their foreplay is gonna kill me." Iolaus about the A/U Hercules and Xena