This one should give you an idea as to what it is I've been reading to my three-year-old daughter. :-) As usual, written on my lunchbreak when I had nothing better to do (ok, I could have worked through my lunchbreak, but what fun would that be?). --DBK ***** A Little Justice A TTR:TDF lunchbreak fiction. ***** She had been chasing him for hours. Adric had no idea where he was now; he had long since lost track of the directions he'd traveled trying to evade her. Somewhere in a residential area, he surmised, but where he hadn't the faintest idea. The quick staccato sound of automatic weapons fire resounded, and a small cloud of dust erupted from the concrete before him. Without another thought, he doubled-back and dashed the direction he had just come, looking desperately for someplace to duck out of sight and hide. He risked a glanced behind him, and just caught the sight of a young, small woman in a brown fairy outfit, holding a gun longer than her arms and running towards him. She was busy replacing a banana-shaped clip as she ran, expertly slamming it into the magazine in mid-stride. Because he was looking at her, he didn't notice the break in the sidewalk as he approached a corner. One foot caught, and he stumbled. His feet tripped over themselves trying to regain balance, but only made things worse. He went crashing to the ground, and rolled into a piece of stonework that had been deliberately planted into the ground. He righted himself just in time to see her catch up. She held the muzzle aimed steadily toward his chest. "At last, swamp- rat!" she told him, as he shut his eyes tightly to wait for the inevitable. "You've made this one very difficult! It's going to be such a pleasure to..." Her voice trailed off. Confused, he opened one eye carefully. She was still standing there, the AK47 still aimed at his chest, her hand still on the trigger. Except... she wasn't looking at him. Her attention was instead fixed on something else, something behind him. Something that his shoulder was resting against. Something that was capable of completely distracting her from her vocation. Cautiously, he chanced a glance at the mini-obelisk behind him, and read the inscription. It was the name of a street. Suddenly, he understood. "We're..." he said, somewhat astonished. She nodded, and lowered the weapon. "Yes, we are." She said, now looking down the street and examining the houses. She slung the Kalashnikov by its strap onto her shoulder. "You wouldn't by any chance remember the address, would you?" Adric got up from the ground and dusted himself off. "Number Four, I think." He glanced at the numbers on the houses closest to them, then pointed a direction. "It should be down that direction." They walked slowly down the street, noting the downward change of numbers, until they arrived at the one they were searching for. For a long moment they stood outside of the house and across the street, silently contemplating. As they watched, a large heavy set man with a handle-bar mustache stepped out of the building's front door and walked to the front of the lot. He opened his mail box, withdrew a few choice items, and then closed it with a loud bang. He threw one withering glance in their direction, noted with obvious disgust their strange choice of attire, but otherwise said nothing. He returned to his house. From inside the house, a very petulant young voice sounded. "But, mummy! I want some more custard, NOW!" "Of course, my little Dudley-wudley!" A woman's voice said, sweet enough to bring on diabetic shock. "Oh, Petunia!" a heavy male voice bellowed, "Our boy is certainly growing, isn't he?" "Yes, Vernon! He certainly is." The Alzarian and the Trakenite turned toward each other, then nodded. Wordlessly, she handed him a couple of potato-masher- style grenades from a dimensional pocket sewn into her dress, then unslung her AK47. "The school year has already started, hasn't it?" she asked. Adric nodded. "It's after the first of September." She flashed a nasty, evil grin. "Good." Without another word, the two advanced on Number Four, Privet Drive. Some evils just begged to get what they deserved. --DBK 15 November 1999