The Library: Episode 7

FIELD TRIP!!

Let’s go Stalking

Jareth, aka the Goblin King, was getting fed up with his duties as principal of the
Library School for TYs. He was getting tired of the idiocy of his staff, the
rambunctiousness of his students, and the iron fisted rulership of the all powerful and all
knowing it Librarian. There HAD to be an escape from this hell! He pounded his head on
his desk for the fiftieth time, leaving small splinters in his forehead and marring his perfect
make up. As he prepared to hammer his head against the now breaking desk, his leather
clad secretary poked her head in the office door, dyed black hair and all.
“Yo, boss man! You keep doing that and Gabriel’s going to have to fix you!” She
walked in and sat down on his desk, her skirt’s pieces flying in random directions and
scattering his well-ordered paperwork. “Whatsa matter, boss? The job getting you
stressed?” He glared up at her, splinters sticking out of his eyeliner.
“The job isn’t getting me stressed, as you so quaintly put it, it’s the co-workers,
my subordinates, and my boss.”
Xena shrugged. “The job.” Jareth rolled his eyes and pounded his head against
the desk again.
Head still resting on the desk he muttered, “when will the torture end?” Xena
leaned in, her chest nearly popping out of that nifty bustier type thingy of hers.
“What’s that, boss? You want a reprieve?” He looked up at her again, his eyes
bloodshot and a 2x4 sticking out of his left ear.
“Yes! Dear God, YES!”
“One word, boss man, Fieldtrip.” Xena got off his desk and left his office, the
sword on her back nearly getting itself slammed as the door closed, before Pyla could even
get a chance to snatch it.
Jareth sat at his desk, pulling pieces of wood out of his elaborate hair-do and
musing over the possibility. “A fieldtrip...” He rang a small bell and instantly the entire
staff came stumbling through the door of his office. Spike, Home Ec teacher, Pyla and
Reea, janitorial staff and nocturnal terrors of the bookshelves, Giles, the head of security,
and Gabriel, Xena’s little toy friend and the school nurse. All of the faculty came through
the door with one exception, Draven. The window behind Jareth’s desk slid open with it’s
now signature alarm, installed specifically for the purpose of warning Jareth of Draven’s
entrances, and Eric Draven, aka the Crow, was crouching in the window sill, a black
feather clasped between his teeth. Jareth turned around and gave him a questioning look.
“What’s with the feather? And how’s Shop class going?”
“Oh, the feather? I woke up this morning thinking I was a pirate, and I couldn’t
find any of my knives. I improvised. And we didn’t have classes today, the TYs were too
busy observing the annual retirement day ceremonies. School holiday.” Jareth cradled his
poor abused skull in his hands and decided it was best to just get down to business before
he lost what few strands of sanity he had left and started dancing around with a
handkerchief stuffed down the front of his pants and abducting babies in red and white
striped pajamas.
He sighed. “I need a break from you. All of you. And your students. You’re
going on a field trip and leaving me alone for a day or so. Any suggestions?” Pyla raised
her hand. Jareth winced.
“Me me me!!!” She was hopping up and down and waving her hand frantically, as
if it were on fire, a sensation she knew quite well from repeated misadventures involving
kerosene and a blow torch. “I have an idea!!” Jareth grimaced.
“Yes, Pyla? What is your, er... Brilliant idea?”
“We should take a trip to Earth! I’ve been studying it off and on for a while,
considering that so many interesting test subjects come from there, and we should go to
EARTH!” The so-called “test subjects” gave her a collective strange look.
“Tests? What tests?” Giles was the first to hazard the question. Pyla got the
innocent, cutesy little blonde girl innocent look, and almost pulled it off but for the
demonic grin.
“Oh... you’ll find out!” The test subjects gave a collective groan.
“I was afraid of that...” Giles was once again the spokesperson.
Jareth, ever the one with a mind for details started calling out a checklist.
“Transportation?”
“Mackadelic TRUCK!!!!”
“Oookay... food items?”
“Cheesy poofs!”
“Destination?”
“uhh........” Pyla couldn’t come up with an answer, so Spike spoke up.
“Sunnydale. The bleeding town is in need of some bloody insanity. Too bloody
boring.” Giles whacked him over the head with a ruler.
“What about Seacouver?” Everyone looked up to see Ramirez and Connor stuck
to the ceiling with rubber suction cups taped to their hands and heavy Doc Marten’s
boots. Spike looked at them.
“Nice boots. Steel toes?” The pair of cieling hangers nodded and everyone
looked back at Jareth, conveniently forgetting that the two black clothed immortals
hanging precariously above their heads were there.
“Okay, now that we have all of that worked out, GO! GET OUT! NOW!”
Jareth’s voice nearly pushed them physically out the door, or in Eric’s case, the window,
and Jareth leaned back in his nice big comfy chair, sighing in relief. A day to himself, with
just the floor, cieling, walls, and cafeteria lady. Speaking of the cafeteria lady, wasn’t the
cafeteria closed? So what was with the sounds of blaster fire and smell of burnt rubber?
And that light under the door? Well, he’d have a whole day to think that one through...

The next School day
“EVERYONE INTO THE BLOODY TRUCK!!!” Spike grimaced for the
umpteenth time at the blindingly bright colors of what Pyla referred to as her Mackadelic
Truck. He grimaced even deeper at the sight of the TYs, followed by the Meanies. The
TYs were revoltingly wholesome but for their insane rivalry regarding their Beanie Baby
collections. The Meanies were busily pulling TY ponytails off the heads of their owners
and hiding them in their water-bottles. Somehow, the TYs failed to notice. Spike rubbed
his forehead, which started to smoke, as he had rubbed off some of his sun screen, SPF
5,000,000. He growled and shot a glare at the twins from hell. Or would that be heaven?
He liked hell... or at least, he enjoyed being at the root of hell on earth...
While Spike was thus occupied, and smoking profusely, the two immortals were
picking TYs off the edge of the crowd and tossing them unceremoniously into the
Mackadelic. At the rate they were going, it would take the rest of the morning to get
them all in. Of course, that’s assuming nothing about the situation changed. The twins,
however, had no intentions of leaving things as they were.
Reea and Pyla, who had skipped their morning enchiladas, were sitting on the
bumper of the truck eating.
“Tabasco?” Reea’s voice was a bit louder than she’d meant it to be, and the entire
crowd, not to mention the rest of the planetoid, heard her quite plainly. The TYs
swarmed, thinking that the one Beanie that was missing from their collection was finally
within their grasp. The Meanies, seeing their torture subjects disapearing into the truck,
followed, carrying all their biking gear with them. The end result were quite a few missing
ponytails, and the remaining hairdos were covered in tire marks. Spike took this golden
opportunity to slam the doors and slide home the bolt... which looked suspiciously like a
railroad tie. Pyla, meanwhile, had ambushed the secretary and stolen her sword.
“Oooo... New hood ornament!” The sword suddenly found itself in the
uncomfortable position of having its hilt stuck in the grill, its point sticking straight out,
threatening passing cars, trucks, mini-vans, and antelope. And any flying melons. Or
melon heads, for that matter. Or just heads in general.

ALL ABOARD!!!
“First stop, SUNNYDALE!!” Pyla’s voice rang out, signalling that it was Giles’
stop. As Giles climbed off the roof of the truck, where he’d had the misfortune of riding,
and picked the bugs out of his teeth, a cocoon of blue lightning surrounded him. Next
thing he knew, his clothing had changed. He was now dressed in a bright yellow, skin
tight leotard and red boxing trunks, with a red cape that only came halfway down his
thighs. On his feet were obscenely orange boots and he was wearing a yellow, orange,
and red mask with a pointy nose. Before he could do or say anything, the truck roared off
in a cloud of yellow dust, leaving him to the mercies of a school carnival, already in full
swing and in need of a man to sit in the dunking booth.
“But I wanted to finish my research on Mayhem Bunnies!” He wailed as they
dragged him off to the booth to splash him and soak him and generally make him a very
wet head of security.

On the Road Again..
The TYs were singing road songs. Spike was trying desperately to shove his fists
into his ears. He’d been elected chaperone.
“Old MacDonald had a farm, ee i ee i oh!” Everytime they came to the
“MacDonald” part of the song, the resident immortals/headhunters cried out in unison
“MACLEOD!” and Pyla yelled “MACKADELIC!” Reea, just to make life interesting and
difficult, yelled “MACLEODELI!” Everyone glared at her and she grinned, then stuck her
head out the window. Pyla was busy putting pretty ribbons on her already well worn and
painted steering wheel. Unfortunately, she was supposed to be steering. She wasn’t.
Decorating, in her mind, came first and required undivided attention to detail.
The truck, which seemed to have somewhere along the way aquired the ability to
drive itself, stopped abruptly in front of a movie theatre. The sign with all the movie titles
on it seemed rather... redundant, to say the least. It said “Sleepy Hollow”... repeatedly. In
all 25 theaters. The highlanders jumped out of the back of the truck, hurriedly slamming
door behind them before Spike could escape, and warily approached the ticket window.
As they came nearer, a black haired head with even blacker (if that’s possible) eyebrows
above incongruously aqua-colored eyes, peered over the edge of the ticket desk. The
Headless Horseman’s sword (ooo.. soo pretty!! SHARP THING! SHARP THING!) rose
along with the head.
“Your hea- I mean, money, please.” Connor and Ramirez *gulped* as she almost
requested they hand over their craniums. From the looks of the blade, she could force the
issue. Ramirez dared speak.
“You wouldn’t happen to have “Casablanca” playing, would you?”
The black haired girl’s head rose half an inch, the cuuuute lil button nose now
resting on the desk. “Are there swords in it?” As if to accentuate the point, the sword
holding chubby little fist slammed down on the counter. Strangely, the button nosed girl
reminded them of Reea. (HINT HINT! it’s one of the authors! *cough cough sneeze
choke*)
“No, but it is a charming story about love, romance and-” he was interrupted by
the girl’s face, rising another half inch, upper lip pulled back over rather SHARP teeth.
“Then NO we do NOT have it! It’s a SWORDLESS movie! We DON’T want
it!” She said “swordless” as if it were the most fowl word ever invented. “However, we
do have “Sleepy Hollow” in Theater One and “Sleepy Hollow” in Theater Two...”
Glancing at the price sign, Ramirez handed over a $20 bill and a random arm and leg and
walked in, Connor tailing him closely.
“Uh... Heh heh heh... Whose arm and leg were those?”
“I’ve no idea..” Button nose continued behind them.
“..Hollow” in Theater Twelve...”

Just Can’t Wait to Get on the Road Again...
Eric had zoomed by on his scooter, and as soon as it got outside the Mackedelic’s
sphere of influence, it turned into a big ass Harley, and we don’t mean the (author’s) dog.
On the back of his new leather jacket was the logo of a group calling themselves a
“Murder of Crows.” He was soon joined by a bunch of bikers (this time the REAL guys,
not spandex crew) all wearing the same logo. The license plate on his bike read “Flock
You!”
The next stop was Target, where the meanies disembarked, their biking gear
suddenly changing into an assortment of sharp pointy things and home-baked desserts.
They promptly ran off into the depths of the home and garden department to wreak havok.
The “Mission: Impossible” theme song soon started on the store sound system. It was
interrupted only by cries of “Clean up on Aisle 53.7” and “Code Red 23 on Aisle 3.14.”
The spokesMeanie walked up to a frecklefaced, pizzaed employee, a large pie held
casually in one hand. “Excuse me, but where could I find a Sneezeblork?”
“Umm... I’ll have to ask my manager.”
“WRONG ANSWER!” The minute trouble maker joyfully hurled the pie into the
employee’s face and ran off, cackling a la Daffy Duck, followed by his team.
The employee ran off to find his mommy.

Meanwhile, In the Library...
The secretary had produced a rotating whet stone blade sharpening thingy from
one drawer of her desk. She glanced up from her pencil sharpening as a white Arabian
with a Spanish-accented Arab riding on its back and yelling something about a dog, rode
through. He jumped out the window, cursing vehemently. “Call my horse a dog, will
they! I’ll show those (*bleep!* Censored...) a dog!”
Looking back down at her work, she realized she’d ground yet another pencil
down to a stump and threw it at the cieling. She was working on a scale model of the
solar system. She was already halfway there, and this was a BIG system... lots of
asteroids and nice things like that.. and some big ship with “Red Dwarf” painted on it’s
butt.
Suddenly, Jareth popped through the door of his office, dressed in a smart, bright
pink business suit, his hair ten inches tall and sporting several pencils of its own, and a
large suitcase at his side.
“AVON CALLING!”
Xena looked up, then looked back down at her work, pulling another unsharpened
pencil and beginning to sharpen it one handed. Jareth found himself examining the palm of
the other. “Talk to the hand, cuz the face ain’t listening.” She went about her business,
making a point of ignoring the moonlighting Principal.

Back at the Sleepy Hollow Grand Theater 25, now Showing Sleepy Hollow...
“OOoo... Johnny Depp is just toooo cuuute! He’s sooo dreamy!” Connor cackled
in a high falsetto, throwing popcorn at the screen... Thankfully it fell several feet short and
landed on his head.
“Totally! What does Christina Ricci have that I don’t?” Ramirez twittered back at
him. Connor resisted the obvious answer.
The sword wielding ticket taker, brownish hair streaming behind her and somehow
looking a bit like Pyla (HINT HINT! It’s the other author! *cough cough sneeze choke
weeze*), slinked down the aisles to the row they were sitting in and hissed from an inch
away from Connor’s ear, “You never gave me your tickets.”
Connor did a vertical leap of about 20 feet, landing with a loud crack and breaking
his seat. “HUH??” He accidentally yelped in the falsetto. Ramirez rolled over, holding
his sides and laughing like he’d never stop.
“You never gave me your tickets. I need to chop up your tickets. My sword
finger is getting twitchy.” Not wanting to find out what a “sword finger” was, Connor
poked Ramirez in the ribs and got the tickets, handing them over to the ticket taker, who
promptly had an attack of “the killer samurai”-itis, chopping merrily at the tickets until
they were reduced to tiny bits of confetti.
“Thank you.” She skipped away, swinging her sword like a favorite dolly.

Reea had drawn the short straw. She had to take the TYs on a field trip to the
White House. (Hey, there’s gotta be an educational excuse for a field trip, you KNOW
this! It’s a law of the UNIVERSE for cripe’s sake!) It had started off well enough, all the
little demon spawns filing neatly across the Capitol’s lawn. Pyla had handed her a camera,
not saying where she’d gotten it, but telling Reea to capture the entire thing on film so
they’d be able to show Jareth how good they’d been on their field trip. Unfortunately, the
entire excercise went downhill from there. As soon as they reached the White House, the
President chose to greet them personally. The TYs misunderstood what he said (“Make
yourself at home and enjoy your time in the White House... anyone want a Big Mac?”) and
began a game of tag. The rules were simple: TYs were “it,” Bill was not. They chased
him around the House. See Bill. See Bill run. Run, Bill, run. When the Secret Service
broke it up, carrying the gasping and wheezing President to safety, the TYs revealed their
quick change talents, their costumes changing from frilly little play dresses to secret
service uniforms. All but one... who got confused and ended up looking like a
Buckingham Palace guard. Their ear pieces, as they did not know where to put them,
ended up stuck up their noses. Reea had them all “hold that pose” while she took several
photos and painted their portrait. Jareth would be proud.

Pyla, however, was with Spike, hunting down Angel. Hence, we shall call her
activities the Angel Stalkings. Or Stockings, if you really want to be perverse. Everytime
she turned her back, her hair ended up a different color, thanks to her Stalking partner in
crime. She returned the favor... Spike looks good with magenta hair.. and his bleached
hair makes such a GOOD canvas...

The Movie Theater
The Theater staff had decided to join our heroes (not) for a friendly flick. And
popcorn toss. Being easily compactible, as all theater going teenage girls are, whenever
they were in danger of being spotted by their targets, they dropped down into their seats,
effectively disappearing. In the small gaps between popcorn bombings, the Highlanders
were bombing another movie goer, this one with a dark ponytail and looking not the least
bit feminine... he was, however, sword wielding.
The black haired girl, having somehow done the impossible and emptied her Super
Extra Grandiose Large Humongous Big Bin of popcorn, had dug out a sheaf of score
cards and was scoring the movie stunts. The scores were consistent "10"s. Her friend the
ticket taker was fingering the hilt of her sword, another fit of "killer samurai"-itis
threatening. She was infected for life.
Though he would later regret it, the not the least bit feminine looking pony-tailed
sword-weilder chose that moment to realize he was not alone. Ever spoiling for a fight, he
made the mistake of drawing his sword. The flash of light on metal caught the staff's
attention, and the ticket taker, let's call her Arin'a, lunged at him.
"HA HA! AT LONG LAST, A WORTHY OPPONENT!" she cried, drawing her
sword in one fluid motion, before hacking away at his pony tail. The black haired one,
let's call her Tousai, held up a score card, the upside down "10" denoting approval, but an
unwillingness to share the high score for the movie with Arin'a, despite the quality of her
performance. Duncan, finally gaining something of his bearings, drew his sword from his
coat, or at least, that's what it looked like he did... In fact, a convenient member of the
filming crew ran up, handed it to him, then disappeared while the scene was still frozen.
Connor found himself absently wondering how he'd managed to draw the sword twice, but
at a glare from Tousai, who apparently knew exactly what he was thinking and thougt he
should be ashamed of himself for it, he promptly forgot about the entire issue. You should
too. Really.

The Angel Stalkings
Pyla grinned at the back of Spike's electric blue head. She knew something he
didn't, and it wasn't just his latest hair color. Angel was standing on a street corner three
blocks away from them, and Spike didn't know that. Which meant Pyla had dibs. JOY!
Conveniently losing Spike by running down a convenient alley while his back was
conveniently turned, she stumbled across a convenient side street leading directly to the
object of her desires. Her desires to maim, destroy, torture, and generically freak out. A
convenient club in hand, she hammered the conveniently oblivious Angel into the side
walk, conveniently unnotiiced by all others on the street, and ran off with him to a
conveniently abandoned werehouse until he woke up and could be subjected to her
designs. How convenient.

Back at the Sleepy Hollow Grand Theater 25, now Showing the Duel of Duncan and
Arin'a while watching Sleepy Hollow...

We told you to forget about the entire situation! Oh well... you're here anyway...

Arin'a, wowed by Duncan's skill, had spared half his pony tail. However, she had
claimed his hair tie for her own. Tousai was still flashing score cards, high scores for her
partner in crime, low ones for Duncan the mohawk. Eventually, Arin'a conceded a draw,
even if the scores didn't reflect it, and bowed. Duncan, partially caught by surprise,
narrowly missed giving her a very close shave. The staff chased all three immortals out of
the theater, locked the door, and returned to the theater to drool over the sharp pointy
things on screen.

We told you to forget it.

Angel Stalking
Angel awoke to the sight of a vat of whipped cream and gummy bears, a second
vat of guacamole and licorice chips, and a third full of mashed twinkies. It quickly came
to his attention that he was tied to a support beam near the cieling with three long licorice
whips. He'd been in difficult situations before, but this was simply too weird.

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