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C.J. was still hazy when he noticed that the wall was being observed. Huh, disturbance in the farce. Better inves'igate. he thought as he staggered away, holding onto his jaw. For someone who was still exhausted, she packed a mean uppercut! He staggered down the stairs to see Abby staring at the two writers.

"Writer, what'd you do now to get the kid's attention?!" he asked the one with the "funny haircut."

Well, for starters, let the floodgates open with the Smothers Brothers, Monty Python, and a few other things.

Arell looked at Abby and C.J. and looked up at Aiden. "We drunk or did we go off de deep end an' take de kid with us, che'?" Arell asked as Dundee was busy being . . . interrogated.

The funny-haired writer, and C.J. were both on the ground laughing when they saw what happened.

Meanwhile, Arell's jaw hit the ground, and Dundee paused for a minute. Both in "WTF?!?" mode at that point. As if today couldn't get any weirder . . . .

Aiden and Abby's writer just scoffed and shook his head, which Abby saw.

"You're not gonna... Ya know... treat us like playthings all th' time, are ya?" Abby asked cautiously.

Nah. I tend to treat my characters well. Matter of fact, what Aiden just looked like is what you'll look like in about ten years.

"Really?!" Abby asked, and she seemed elated. "Ohthankyouthankyouthankyou!"

No problem, kid. Yo Swampy, wake up C.J., eh?

"Sis, yer actually talkin' to this guy? How come I can't hear 'im?" Aiden asked, looking around at... whatever Abby was currently looking at.

"What?!" Abby asked sharply, looking over at Arell. "I don't do no drugs!" she protested. However, for a brief moment, Arell would see the fully-grown Abigail O'Connor, even more beautiful than her then-gender-bent brother had been. She was wearing a sparkly, slinky emerald green dress that showed off an ample hourglass figure: pleasingly wide hips and a large bust. Her legs were silky smooth and seemed to go on forever, and thanks to a pair of five-inch stiletto heels (which matched the color of her dress and sparkled like her dress as well), she was as tall as Arell. Her hair was no longer bushy; instead it was straight and shining, with one of her bangs concealing one of her eyes. She was wearing glittering make-up that seemed to enhance her beauty to a borderline-irrational level: shimmering foundation, gleaming ruby-red lipstick-- the works. Essentially, she was a more "realistic" Jessica Rabbit in a green dress; A very far cry from the short, pretty-but-nothing-to-write-home-about girl who had kicked the Cajun bounty hunter in the nuts earlier that morning.

Of course, this was merely an illusion that only Arell (And probably Artie and C.J.) could see, as her writer's been itching to give the readers a mental image of what she'd look like as an adult without actually aging her up. Hope Ceej likes the mental image... Both Ceej's, actually.

C.J., usually a man of good moral understanding, a "leave it to beaver" view on amorous relationships and man of calmness and zen-like behavior wound up with his jaw on the ground. "Soooooooon." he said in a low, stunned voice. His relationship with a certain blue arachnid-esque superheroine was put on the side-track.

Arell, on the other hand, looked at C.J. with a confused look, then back at the now really hot version of Abby. If I wasn't taken . . . and if Aiden wouldn't put me in the ground . . . he thought as he walked over to C.J. and waved his hand in front of his Marylander buddy's face. "You a'right, che'?" Arell asked.

What C.J. saw was so stunningly hot that even the writer stopped playing the piano for a little bit and is sitting on the other end of the computer with a smile. Yes, I know it's a mirage, but a man can dream, right?!? Good job, other writer.

Dundee, on the other hand, had now shooed the Inquisitors away (they heard some other dope say . . . a slim number of people have anticipated the Inquisition of Spanish Origin) and was staring at the group with confusion.

Somewhere, some band was playing to the rhythm of that vuluptuous mirage of a redhead struttin' away as C.J. smirked, swaying with the rhythm of her "hips." "C'est bon . . . . " he said, about to follow her. When Dundee slowly was realizing C.J. was acting . . . strange. Not his usual "talk to a wall like there's someone there" or "pull something out from a situation that didn't happen in this reality" strange. This was C.J. crossing the border into stupidland.

Dundee, taking it into his hands to solve the problem, walked over to C.J., getting between him and Abby and . . . .

smaksmaksmaksmaksmaksmaksmak!!!!!

C.J. slid into reality and hit every branch on the way down.

"What's the matter with you, Benoit?! Have you lost it!? Now go apologize!!! I mean seriously. First you spend the last five minutes, talking to a wall, then after all we talked about upstairs about you and some gal we were talking about and you do THIS!!! She's young enough to put you in prison for LIFE!!!" Dundee ordered.

C.J. grinned shyly. "Sorry, y'all." he said, easing back.



Arell looked confused. Wait, don't I usually smack around the other two? he thought, taking a drink of coffee. Then he paused to look in the mug. What the hell did I put in here?!?

C.J. smiled at Dundee, and flashed a thumbs-up at the writers. "Well, that's just a side forum thing anyways. But since we're all from the same world, skadoosh." he said to the writers, both the C.J.'s shared a high five. Then the writer gave the other a hi-five . . . then Arell realized Aiden was cracking his knuckles.

"Oh, relax, Aiden. Che', he gonn' learn betta by de time ten yeahs rolls aroun' . . . right?" Arell asked. Then looked over at C.J. . . . "RIIIIIGHT?" he asked, as if to say "do not anger the Irish man in the room or we'll BOTH tear you a new one!!"

C.J. smiled nervously. "Right. I mean, I can learn. I can change!!" he said, flashing the OK symbol.

Meanwhile, Dundee smirked. "Well, and I thought I was the one in the middle of the Spanish Inquis- err . . . Interrogation!!"