Warnings: no bad language found here in Cascade, but plenty of kissing and slash authors reside here and territorial imperatives interfere with an author's muse

The Mary Sue-San Series #3

excerpt from private e-mail

From:susgreer@webtv.net
To:PattRose1@damnherhide.com
Subject: I'm getting to it

...blah...how are ya...blah....sure is hot here....t.v....blah....did you see that delicious new pic of GM that Sister Shar sent...blankie...blahs....oh, Patt, what am I going to do, my muse has disappeared and Jim has absolutely forbidden me to call Blair and ask him to help me. I think they went camping this weekend. I Windexed my binoculars so my focus was clear, and I did see Jim throwing stuff in the back of the truck. He looked my way, and I had to duck behind the dumpster, hoping the dead cat in there would jam his senses...I need Blair, oh Patt, what am I.....blah, blah, blah, etc.

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excerpt from private e-mail

From: PattRose1@damnherhide.com
To: susgreer@webtv.net
Subject: re: getting to it

blippety hippity...blah blah blah... blue...blah...bippety...boppity...boo...don't worry over this darlin', that blue-eyed muse will return just like the sun tomorrow morning over Death Valley....Jim....GM's hair....girl, I was watching around the corrner in my car, and when Jim started jerking his head around in all directions I skedaddled. You remember the fear of God he put into me last time...well, I told you I could lick him and keep on tickin' but I was just puttin' on a big show for Tricia....blah...blah...I do understand, Susan....

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excerpt from private e-mail

From: susgreer@webtv.net
To: PattRose1@bringiton.com
Subject: re: getting to it

....yeah, I'm feeling ok, I guess, no, actually to tell the truth, I'm feelin' lower than a snake's belly in a wagon rut...no Blair. I called the loft and the answering machine popped on....hung up, of course, do you think I'm crazy...Jim can i.d. me my heavy breathing...blah-tee-ta-dah...Yeah, I'll just keep truckin' on...Yeah, catch you later. BTW, that dress you wore for the Guppies, can I borrow it for Saturday?

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excerpt from private e-mail

From: PattRose1@thenextbestthing.com
To: susgreer@webtv.net
Subject: re: where you going?

...Where are you going? Do you have a ...duh....duh...duh...date? That's not like you, don't you just sit at home at read slash! I didn't think you had any social life. Tell me, sis.

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excerpt from private e-mail

From: susgreer@webtv.net
To:PattRose1@zoocentral.com
Subject: re: where you going?

...I'm sorry it's been 3 days since we last talked. Yeah, Jim and Blair are home now. I'm sittin' here in my old mules and rattified robe just bawlin' my eyes out. I'm depressed, Patt, that's the word. Even your jokes don't cheer me up...much...even the ones about the "stupid signs." I'm down for the count, sinking right down, I'm going to bed now.

I don't think I'll go to work tomorrow, I'll just call in sick. My manager will understand. I've just been bursting into tears on the job and won't tell her why...I've gone to pot. The Blair clone who asked me out never showed, the clod. I'm dying...oh, God...

Getting to It (Isn't Hard If You Know How)

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excerpt from private e-mail

From:PattRose1@discofever.com
To: susgreer@webtv.net
Subject: Stop, look, and listen

Susan, get out of that bed! Take a shower, shampoo with that herbal stuff that revs up Jim's hum-hum, and fer goshdarnsakes put some decent clothes on. No, not that Guppy awards banquet dress, stupid. That dress was for women to look at, you silly thing. Put on something a man would like! I'm coming over. Do what I say, or else!"

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Susan screamed like a spirit panther and shut off her webtv. She rolled out of her rumpled bed onto the hardwood floor, and lord, is wood hard!

Wildly flew shoes, off she doffed the robe, and dragged her blunt dirty fingernails thru her snarled hair. "Oh, oh, oh, ow...Patt, dammit...I'm gettin' to it!"

Across the city of Cascade in a comfortable house on Route 51, which was not far from Prospect Avenue, a determined lady severely punched at her telephone. "555-4167".

"Ellison!" came the barking reply.

"Jim, this is Patt....Yeah...me, too...Blair...yeah....he's fine...they're fine...everybody at SENAD's fine, so's the folks at J&B-slash...Now, listen to me you hulking Sentinel! Susan is at the end of her rope, and fadin' fast...you big dummy...she's even thinkin' of writin' a pregnant Alex Barnes story, now how low can a slash author sink? Yeah, you're the Daddy, honey! Ain't that awful...Yeah, I know you'd never be unfaithful to your Angel....I'm gonna kick your butt from Cascade to Seacouver if you don't let Susan see Blair!"

"NO WAY, Patt! Mary Sue-san ain't getting her claws back into...."

Patt interrupted and harrumphed, and snorted a time or two, getting wind in her sails. She grinned, and Lucifer himself hasn't a more devious grin than Patt when she has a plan.

Sweetly she whispered, knowing those keen ears would pick up every word. "Oh, Jim, honey...have you ever heard of a sexual dysfunction called..."Anasteemaphilia"? Well, you got it sugar. And the symptoms that go along with it are: dacryphila, nasophilia and in one instance Siderod romophilia!"

Jim gulped and started as his One and Only came out of the bathroom.

"Blair, get dressed. We're having guests."

Getting To It, Nearly Final Vaginal Interruptus Slashus, My aunt Betty

"Huh?" asked Blair. "Who's coming over? Didn't I tell you I've got plans for us tonight, the works, I'm eating Bird-Seed Salad, Alfalfa Sprout Casserole, Devilled Tongue, and Jism Jim Yoghurt. Ain't got none to share...Let Rafe get his own..."

Blair positively scowled at his lover. Jim ducked his head, sad that his sweet Blair would make a face at him.

"Aw shucks, Jim." Blair opened his arms and invited Jim into his embrace. "I'm sorry, honey. Let's sit down."

Arms entwined they reached the sofa, arms unentwined so Blair could sit in his fave spot. Blair patted his lap (the fine author quickly apologizes for stealing from Lex, let her know I've done it) waiting for Jim to seat himself.

Jim sat, weighing a ton, a precious ton over Blair's bony knees, flattening his boney pelvis flatter into the arm of the sofa. Blair kissed Jim's bare-unearring-ed ear and nibbled on the fascinating lobe that had a brown hair sticking down on it.

A tongue full of Blair-spit slicked that hair onto Jim's collar. He moved his kissable (what else?) lips onto Jim's jawbone, then around to the corner of his mouth. Jim the Sentinel man missed a spot shaving this morning, he discovered.

"Hon, Patt's bringing Susan over to see you. It's black..mail...um...er...there's something wrong with me...my hum-hum's dysfunctioning...and she knows it. How I don't know...My hyper-senses would tell me if we'd had an intruder here...watching us...upstairs while you...while I...while we..."

"Jim, darlin', have no fear! Under-Blair is here! To save the da--a--y! I'd never have thought Susan would agree to something so shameful. I lay the blame at Patt's door on Route 51. She could always lead that woman around by her nose."

Blair began to think, and God, what an awesome sight that is...Mona Lisa and George Crossing the Delaware can't compare. He thought and he thinked and he thunk, then he opened his big blue eyes wider than clichedly possible, and hissed, "I'll fix Miss Patt, don't you worry. I know sweet li'l Miss Innocent Susan wouldn't dream of invading our privacy. Darn it, the Sicky-Fi channel is showing our fave Watchman ep this evening, too, you know, "Seeing Man's Bluff."

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Jim jumped up from Blair's bones and announced, "They're here!"

Blair stood up, too. "Show 'em in." And Jim actually trembled when he saw the *look* in Blair's eyes. Yeah, go, Blair, go!