No money. *Definitly* not mine. Would I, gentle soul that I am, shelter and nourish a muse this heartless? This cynical? This cold blooded? This cruel? This *sneaky?*

Well, yes-- apparently so.

Hell hath no fury like a jealous Methos muse. Just ignore him. He'll get over it.

 <We're out of beer again.>

"You're kidding? Gee, I wonder how that happened?"

<This is serious.>

"I just love your priorities, Methos. In case you hadn't noticed, we're kind of stuck here."

<'We?' What's this 'we' shit? I don't remember committing to anything.>

"Don't remember... Hey, this is your big moment, the story you *insisted* on, remember? I went to a lot of trouble to get Amanda out of the way--do you have any idea what that *cost* me? It's just you and Duncan now."

<Nope, can't say that I remember that.>

"You and Duncan and a gallon of almond oil."

<Still not ringing any bells.>

"You and Duncan, a gallon of almond oil, and a leather collar."

<It's coming back to me.>

"I thought it might. That was rather an impressive little temper tantrum you threw. Kind of hard to forget."

<I did not throw a tantrum.>

"Really? Screaming, spitting, throwing the cat across the room? What do you call that in Methosmuse Land?"

<We call it expressing dissatisfaction with the outline.>

"Well, express yourself with a little less volume next time. I have neighbors, you know."

<I don't *have* to express myself at all.>

"Oh fine, pout. Ellen will be so proud."

<I'm not pouting. I'm very calmly and rationally pointing out that you don't need my input on this one.>

"What are you talking about? Of course I need your input. You're my Methos muse."

<Right. And I'm supposed to believe that means something?>

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

<Obviously. You're ignoring me. You haven't heard a thing I've said for the last three weeks.>

"Not true. 'Buy more beer'-- I've heard that at least once a day. I hear 'damn it, MacLeod' at full volume at least four times a week. And I'm pretty sure that was you singing obscene Polynesian drinking songs in the shower at two o'clock Tuesday morning."

<Actually, no. That was Kady's Kronos muse.>

"I didn't know ol' Leather Butt could sing!"

<Only when he's in a *very* good mood.>

"What was he so happy...never mind. I'm sure I'd rather not know."

<Hey-- I have to have *something* to distract me from that *thing* you're writing.>

"I said I don't want to know, Methos."

<You'll like this-- remember those two Methos muses you kidnapped from Olympia?>

"I prefer to think of it as rescuing helpless refugees."

<Semantics. Anyway, Kronos had this idea...>

"Methos, I'll make you a deal. You don't tell me about Kronos' idea, and I won't tell you what Olympia was planning to do to those poor, innocent Methoses. That way neither of us will have to think about bloody entrails or chunky peanut butter enemas."

<Somebody told you!>

"No. But Olympia and Kady's Kronos muse have a lot in common. It's kind of scary."

<No kidding-- did you just notice that? By the way, exactly what are *you* planning to do with those extra Methoses?>

"I'm going to find them good homes. Why? What did you think I was planning to do with them?"

<I had no idea. How soon are they leaving?>

"What's the rush, Methos? Feeling a bit threatened?"

<No, feeling a bit *crowded*. It's a very small closet.>

"Don't complain about the accommodations. I have it on good authority that Maygra keeps *her* muses chained in a dog run behind her house."

<That's a totally different situation. Maygra doesn't expect her muses to do 'funny.' Suffer, yes-- die beautifully, yes-- do slapstick, no. Drama may demand suffering and angst, but comedy calls for a comfortable, relaxed, well satisfied muse.>

"Uh-huh. I'm starting to get the picture. Imported beer and Chinese take-out aren't enough for you anymore. Now you want me to rub your tummy and scratch behind your ears, is that it?"

<Only if you don't mind losing that hand.>

"Oops. Sorry."

<No problem. So-- how do we go about finding homes for these extra Methoses and getting them away from my Dun...getting them out of my closet.>

"Oh, no-- you're not feeling a *bit* threatened."

<Don't go there. Just open the mail program and send an advert to the lists. Now.>

"An ad? Methos, they're *muses*, not puppies."

<So?>

"And they're not just any muses-- they're poor, innocent, tortured and abused Methos muses. They need *special* homes. Loving, caring homes. Homes where they'll be appreciated and taken care of. Homes where they'll be treasured and cherished."

<Homes where they don't have to sleep in the closet?>

"You're not going to let that drop, are you?"

<Apparently not. Why don't we just pack them up and ship them off to the RSM clubhouse? They could sleep under the fridge with mouse.>

"Are you insane?"

<What? What's wrong with that? I was going to put air holes and kibble in their box! I think it's a great idea.>

"Methos, let me say three little words-- Barb, Mairead, Olympia."

<Shit. But you've got to do something with them, and soon-- they're starting to get on my nerves. All that shivering and trembling, those thin, pathetic faces, the way they moan and whimper in their sleep, all those strategically placed tears in their clothing....>

"The way they're always clinging to Duncan...."

<Damn right! That's *my* Duncan and they should keep their grubby paws off of him! Stop snickering, it's not funny.>

"Sorry. Of course it's not funny, Methos. It is kind of cute though. I've never seen your ears turn that particular shade of red before."

<I want them out of here this weekend-- do you understand that?>

"Calm down, Methos, I've got an idea."

<It had better be a really good one.>

"Why don't we invite Zen&nan's and Bone's Blair muses over? Blair muses are warm and cuddly and they love to do comfort duty. They'll even bring their own herbal tea. They can take care of the extra Methoses and you'll have Duncan all to yourself again. And *then* maybe we could get this next sex scene written."

<Blair muses? This is your idea of a solution? Is this the latest technique from Barb's 'kick him in the nuts and he won't feel the knife in his back' school of muse-management?>

"Fine, no Blair muses. Then you're just going to have to live with them for awhile, Methos. I'll put out a few discreet feelers and see what I can come up with in the way of good, angst-free  homes. Somewhere out in Highlander Land there are a couple of nice, gentle slash writers that believe in romance and happy endings and need Methos muses of their very own. You're just going to have to be patient until I find out which rock they're hiding under."

<Where are you going? We're not finished with this yet.>

"You may not be finished, but I am. I need a drink and a hot bath."

<Fine. Desert me in my hour of need. Let those two pathetic opportunists seduce my Duncan away from me. Let them turn me out in the cold. Alone, friendless, destitute...>

"Methos?"

<What?>

"Hold that thought. We'll try the angst scene when I get back. But just a little less of the 'poor Nell fleeing across the ice,' okay?"

<Bitch.>

"And stay away from the computer while I'm gone."

<No problem. Go take your bath. Relax. Enjoy yourself. Take your time. There's no hurry. I'll just sit here in the corner and bite my nails until my fingers bleed. I won't touch your precious computer.>

FREE TO GOOD HOMES:  Get your very own Methos muse! Well trained, obedient, housebroken Methos muses available for immediate placement. Homes with comfort-capable Duncan muses in residence preferred, but not required. No waiting, all shipping fees paid. No references needed. First come, first serve. Contact  suze@slashcity.com between 8 am and 5 pm, weekdays only. Specify 'to Fed Up' in subject line.

  The End

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