Methos isn't helping with this intro. He's too busy losing my mail. Just between us, no matter what he tells you, remember, the man doesn't know the definition of 'honesty.' He starts nasty rumors for fun on alternate weekends. He's allergic to the truth. He...

<Shut up and get on with it.>

Tell me something, when I ship him back to R and P/D, do I *really* have to put air holes in his box?

  Suze   1998

 <Put that down.>

"I just need a break, Methos. I'll get back to the story in a few minutes."

<If you turn on that VCR, you'll be glued to the television for the next two hours. Put it *down.*>

"Chill out, Methos. I said I'd get back to it."

<You've been saying that all week. You promised you'd write a scene tonight, so sit down and write it. Now.>

"Shit Methos, who's been feeding you Jim-pills? You have obviously been spending *way* too much time with Hairboy."

<Very funny. Now put something funny on the screen. Write.>

"I can't."

<Don't tell me this. I don't want to hear this.>

"I'm stuck."

<How can you possibly be stuck? You only choke on the sex scenes.>

"Choke?"

<I thought it had a nicer ring to it than 'wimp out.'>

"Wimp out? You think I wimp out on the sex scenes? Fine. No more wimping out on the sex scenes. But since this isn't a sex scene,  that's not really all that helpful."

<Which scene is it?>

 "Don't worry about it, Methos. You don't need to help with this one. I'll do it all by myself, right now. See?"

<Very smooth. You now have my complete and undivided attention. Which scene is it?>

"Fuck, Methos. Can't you trust me? Just this once? You *really* don't want to get involved with this one. Sometimes ignorance really *is* bliss."

<Bullshit. You've written me rough sex scenes and you've written me dead, but if you ever write me as willfully ignorant, I'm outta here.>

"Sorry. Bad word choice?"

<Extremely. Choose again.">

"Okay. Try this word--deniability."

<You're kidding. You do remember who you're talking to here, don't you?>

"Mr. Why-would-I-tell-the-truth. How could I have forgotten?"

<Quit stalling. Someday you're going to learn that you can't distract me that easily. Which scene are you working on?>

"I'll tell you if you agree to stick around and help me with it."

<"I thought you didn't want my help?>

"Your *help* I'll take. It's the smart ass remarks I can do without."

<Sorry, they don't come packaged for individual resale. I reserve the right to make smart ass remarks whenever I bloody well feel like it. It's in my contract, remember?>

"Please don't go there, Methos."

<How are you going to stop me? >

"Easy. I'll just turn off the computer."

<You'd rather bleed to death from a million paper cuts than turn off the computer.>

"Methos, I'm begging here, we agreed not to discuss this in public."

<But we didn't put that in my contract. I don't understand why you're so ashamed of this.>

 "It's not shame, Methos. It's fear. And if you were half as smart as you think you are, you'd be afraid, too."

<Afraid? Of a bunch of slash writers? What can they possibly do to me that they haven't already done? Twice. With the condiments of their choice.>

"Oh honey, that's *exactly* what you ought to be afraid of."

<Did you just call me 'honey?' Well, endearments are a new  technique. It's kind of refreshing. Especially when we consider that you spent most of the last story referring to me as 'you stupid little shit.'>

"I get regional when I'm frightened. It's a defense mechanism."

<Don't worry about it. I won't let the big, bad slash writers hurt you.>

"They're not going to hurt me, Methos. They're just going to think I'm a world class wimp."

<They'll understand why you did it. Your options were limited, and you made the right decision.>

"I *caved*, Methos. Don't think for one minute they won't know that."

<What else could you have done? We had you by the balls.  Metaphorically speaking.>

"I can't believe you got Duncan to go along with this. And Amanda! I thought Amanda *liked* me!"

<Oh, we all *like* you, but we don't necessarily trust you.>

"What have I ever done to deserve that?"

<You're a slash writer. We can't afford to trust you. Who knows when you'll get the urge to torture one of us, or publicly humiliate us, or give us embarrassing sexual hangups. Or let some hairy little dickless wonder call us jerks and not get his head taken.>

"I still can't believe you made me add that."

<It was one of the highlights of the entire negotiation. Kind of made the whole ugly mess worthwhile for me.>

"Ugly mess? Bullshit! You loved every minute of it! *You* got almost everything you asked for, and *I* got screwed to the wall. How the hell am I ever supposed to be able to write deep, heavy slash stories without angst or torture?"

<Count your blessings. We let you keep h/c, didn't we?>

"You didn't *let* me keep anything. I traded the new story idea for h/c."

<You probably came out ahead there. Nobody wanted to do that story  anyway.>

"Duncan did. He was looking forward to it. And Kronos was jazzed about playing the ghost. Face it, Methos, Hamlet was a perfect fit for Duncan, and you whined and wheedled him out of doing it because *you* didn't like your wardrobe."

<Joe wasn't happy being stuck as Polonius, and Silas couldn't even remember his character's name.>

"I fixed that. I just broke it into syllables and gave him a mnemonic."

<"What kind of mnemonic did you come up with for Guilden...never mind. And I didn't object to the costume. I whined and wheedled Duncan out of doing it because I hate drowning. That's covered in my contract, too. Remember?>

"Death, sex, anything that takes batteries, chocolate sauce as a lubricant, and any physical descriptions that include the word alabaster. *Everything's* covered in your fucking contract, Methos! I remember. Nobody else's is half as long as yours. Stop snickering."

<I'll try. Besides, Amanda's is almost as long.>

"Not anymore,  it's not. Once I stipulated that she could pick her own wardrobe and haircolor we were able to cut out seventeen pages. And Duncan was so embarrassed by the whole idea that his was only two pages long."

<Is it my fault that I'm older and wiser than they are?>

"Methos, do you really think a thirty page contract full of persnickety little subclauses proves that you're wiser than Duncan and Amanda?"

<No. I think staying up late and reading over your shoulder proves that I'm wiser. And I think keeping an eye on your bookmarks proves that I'm wiser. And as for your e-mail...>

"Substitute 'more paranoid' for 'wiser', and I'll buy it. And stay out of my mail."

<I only read the dangerous messages. And the particularly  interesting ones.>

"Give me a break, Methos. I do not get dangerous mail."

<I consider anything with an RSM email addy a possible threat to my health and/or emotional well being. I have a right to protect myself.>

"Well, if you'd leave Zen and nan alone, you wouldn't have to worry about protecting yourself from my mail. Wow, Methos. Privacy--what a concept! Imagine how uncomplicated your life would become if you just learned to mind your damn own business."

<If minding my own damn business was one of my strong points Duncan might be dead by now.>

"Maybe. Of course, Richie would have died a lot sooner too."

<Every plan has it's drawbacks. but just think of all the wonderful story lines that disappear if I don't stick my elegant nose into MacLeod's business every time I get the chance.>

"Okay, Methos. You've convinced me."

<You might even say butting in is my specialty.>

"Fine. Butt in to your heart's content. I'm working on a 'Duncan logic' scene. Butt in and help with *that*.""

<I'm going to go play in the mail program.>

"Great. Bail on me when things get dangerous. But since you're not going to help with the scene, I get a favor. *That's* in your contract too, remember?"

<What kind of favor?>

"While you're playing in the mail program, don't use the words 'muses' and 'union' in the same sentence."

 The End

Feedback!