by Nyssaias the Light Muse and Embericles the Dark Muse

[SCENE: A stage in a TV studio, tricked-out with cheesy-looking
lights and art-deco furnishings. The song 'Stir It Up', by Bob
Marley and the Wailers starts up along with some canned
applause. After a moment, two young women walk briskly out
onto the stage, hand-in-hand. They are NYSSAIAS and
EMBERICLES. NYSSAIAS is a petite, curly-haired brunette with
white angel-wings sprouting from her back, wearing a white tube
top, vinyl miniskirt, and gogo boots. EMBERICLES is a short,
buxom redhead with black devil-wings on her back, clad in a
slinky black cheongsam. The simulated cheering goes wild as they
reach center stage, bow to the nonexistent audience, then exchange
a brief kiss. They smile and wave as the faux-applause dies away.]

NYSSAIAS: Greetings, all you lucky viewers! Boy, have we got
a show for you tonight!

EMBERICLES: Note that the term 'a show' is not prefaced by any
sort of modifying adjective, such as 'great' or 'wonderful'.

NYSSAIAS: Now, Emmy, don't be a pessimist.

EMBERICLES: Sorry, I can't help it.

NYSSAIAS: I suppose that's just your nature as a Dark Muse.

EMBERICLES: No, actually it's because I saw the script.

[Canned laughter]

NYSSAIAS: Ha ha ha! Seriously, tonight's program is very
special, in that we'll be taking a look at one of the most amazing
parts of Musedom--

EMBERICLES: We'll be looking in your panties, then? That's
where my favorite part of Musedom is. [leers]

[Canned laughter and hooting]

NYSSAIAS: No, silly. We'll be examining that realm of Muse
operations known as the 'Zone of Utterly Wrong Ideas'.

EMBERICLES: But not just _any_ utterly wrong ideas, right?

NYSSAIAS: Right. What we'll be seeing are not just utterly
wrong, they're actually quite hideous in that they started out as
excellent fictional ideas that were then maimed beyond all

EMBERICLES: And of course, any Muse worth her wings knows
that the best way to screw up even the best story is...

BOTH: ...to make it an inappropriate crossover!

NYSSAIAS: That's right! Nothing puts the psyche in an LAPD-
style choke hold like a really bad and inappropriate crossover.

EMBERICLES: Tonight, we have for you a set of crossover ideas
that will make your cerebral cortex spontaneously combust.

NYSSAIAS: All were harvested from the Zone of Utterly Wrong
Ideas, where they had been exiled to keep them beyond mortal

EMBERICLES: The basic theme behind them all is, 'What if certain
alt.drwho.creative authors co-wrote stories with certain very wrong

NYSSAIAS: So, now that you've been adequately warned, let's roll
the first clip!


"...so you see, it was dialectically inevitable that it should come to
this. It was the internal stresses caused by your exploitation that
caused this rising of the proletariat."
"And that's why you're spraying me with a seltzer bottle?"
"Precisely, my bourgeois sweetie." She sprayed him again, the
seltzer soaking his already sodden clothes and hair.
"And the custard pies?" he asked, straining against the ropes.
"Are they a result of the class struggle, as well?"
"No, Mikey," Zoe replied with an impish grin. She took another
of the gooey pies and mashed it into his face "They're just

--'Zany Zoe and the Contradictions of Capitalism', by K. Michael
Wilcox and Karl Marx


[Back to the stage, where NYSSAIAS and EMBERICLES are
chuckling along with the laugh track.]

EMBERICLES: Ah. The revolution never looked so ravishing.

NYSSAIAS: And speaking of abusive regimes, we've got the next
clip ready to roll. Duck and cover!


[Interior bridge of the Satellite of Love. DOUG (a tall man with a
ponytail, dressed in combat fatigues), DIANE (a pretty blonde
dressed similarly to DOUG), and HELEN (a tall, auburn-haired
woman in a leather catsuit) are all at the console, talking.]

DIANE: ...haven't seen her all day.

DOUG: Should we be worried?

HELEN: Why? It's not like she could have left.

[Enter NORMAN (a thin, spooky-looking middle-aged man wearing
a white shirt and slacks) from stage right. He is holding one hand
behind his back.]

DOUG: (to NORMAN) Hey, Norman. Have you seen Nyssa
lately? Adric's going to be calling soon, and we can't find her

NORMAN: No, I've not seen her since this morning.

HELEN: That's the last time I saw her, too. She said she was going
to take a shower.

[NORMAN turns slightly, showing the screen, but not the others,
that he has a bloodstained kitchen knife behind his back.]

NORMAN: I don't know where she could be, then. I could ask
Mother if she's seen her...

--from 'Mystery PSYCHO Theater', by BKWillis and Alfred


[Stage again. Somehow, the laugh track sounds a little forced.]

EMBERICLES: Ah yes! A fine example of a fanfic idea that
shouldn't be allowed to breed.

NYSSAIAS: Whoo! That clip gave me VERTIGO!

[The laugh track sounds seriously strained.]

EMBERICLES: [wincing] Ouch, Nyss. That joke was terrible.

NYSSAIAS: (coyly) Are you saying it was for THE BIRDS?

[Laugh track dies horribly.]

EMBERICLES: And now that my beautiful partner has done a
Norman Bates number on the poor, defenseless laugh track, let's
see our next Crossover from Hell clip.


Their father grins. 'You must marry one of my daughters so
that the two schools of Anything-Goes Fan Fiction will finally
be united.'


'Take your pick, boy. These are Sandra, age 19, Allie, age 17, and
Xeffie, age 16. One of them will be your wife and Muse.'

'Well, I... I...'

Sandra and Xeffie push their middle sister forward.

'He wants Allie!'

'Of course he wants Allie!'

'/Hey/, sisters! Don't /I/ get any say in this?'

'No, no! He's already chosen! He wants Allie!'

The two fathers begin waving fans and cheering. 'He wants Allie!
Now our schools shall be joined! Yay!'

Allie turns on them, fuming. 'Wait a minute! There's no way I'm
marrying a pervert author like him!'

'Yeah! Why do I hafta marry an uncute Muse like her, anyway? I
make a better Muse, myself.'

'/You/... you /jerk/!' Allie slams him across the head with a
blunt metaphor.

--from 'Imranma 1/2', by Imran Inayat and Rumiko Takahashi


[Stage again. NYSSAIAS and EMBERICLES are giggling.]

NYSSAIAS: That'll leave a mark...

EMBERICLES: What, the hit in the head or the crossover?

NYSSAIAS: Both, probably.

EMBERICLES: Perhaps. But not as much as this next one...


All was in chaos on the bridge of the Excalibur as the wavefront
washed over it. The buffetting cast Lancelot from his seat as the
other crewmembers struggled to hang on, warning lights ablaze on
every panel.
Gwynevere wailed from her station, "Merlin must have failed!
Morgan has control of the station's weapons systems! If she
keeps using the resonation projector, we'll be destroyed!"
All eyes turned to the Captain's chair, looking for that last
desperate stroke of cleverness that would save them all.
"Oops," giggled the High King as he slid to the floor, his
tuxedo rumpling even further. He staggered clumsily to his feet
and drew himself to his full five feet of height. Throwing one arm
out, he declared, "I seem to have spilled my drink. Could someone
fetch me another? And my piano." He trailed off into a slurred
titter as the ship rocked under the bombardment.

--from 'Arthur in Time and Space', by Paul Gadzikowski and
Dudley Moore


[The stage. NYSSAIAS is staring in horror, while EMBERICLES is
just shaking her head.]

EMBERICLES: Oy, talk about your wrongness...

NYSSAIAS: (horrified) Almost... almost... 'Arthur'... We almost
had to see Liza Minelli...

EMBERICLES: [hugs NYSSAIAS] There, there, it's okay. There's
no Liza Minelli here...

NYSSAIAS: (sniffling) But almost... the horror...

EMBERICLES: While I comfort my little love-muffin, let's see a clip
from our next Crossover from Hell.


'Have you guessed the riddle yet?' Kastchei asked, putting aside
his teacup and turning to Vivienne again.

'No, I give it up,' Vivienne replied. "What's the answer?"

'I haven't the slightest idea,' said Kastchei.

'Nor I,' added Taliesin over his own teacup.

Vivienne sighed wearily. 'I think you might do something better
with the time than wasting it in riddles that have no answers.'

'If you knew Time as well as I do,' said Kastchei, 'you wouldn't
talk about wasting _it_. It's _him_.'

'I don't know what you mean,' said Vivienne. She looked to the
Dormouse for support, but he was still fast asleep.

'Of course you don't!' Kastchei said, tossing his head
contemptuously. 'I dare say you never even spoke to Time!'

'Perhaps not,' Vivienne cautiously replied, 'but I know I have to
beat time when I learn music.'

'Ah! That accounts for it,' said Kastchei. 'He won't stand for a
beating. Now, if only you'd kept on good terms with him, he'd do
almost anything you liked with the clock.'

--from 'Taliesin Wonderland', by Helen Fayle and Lewis Carroll


[The stage. NYSSAIAS is still sniffling uncertainly as
EMBERICLES tries to explain something to her.]

EMBERICLES: ...so you see, there's no such thing as Liza Minelli.
She's just a myth, like Barbra Streisand or tax reform. She's not real
like we Muses are.

NYSSAIAS: Well, if you say so... [sniffles]

EMBERICLES: [looks up] And, we're back! And since I can't think
of any sort of good segue into this next one and since Nyss is still
kind of out of it...

NYSSAIAS: (muttering) But what if, when the stars and the pop-
music scene are right, the Minelli could plunge from world to

EMBERICLES: ...we'll just go straight on to the next clip.


A rock whammed into the altar beside Father Dunn as the man in
front of Anne surged to his feet, a sling in his hand. But Anne was
already moving, her fist striking unerringly into the man's shoulder,
shattering it.

The church shook with the sounds of struggle as several more of
the fit, clean-cut young men rose to the attack from amongst the
congregation. Liz ducked under the pew for a moment, noting the
way Father Dunn was standing his ground at the altar, while Anne
leapt into battle with another of the men. Several others could be
seen struggling with what looked to be plainclothes policemen.

At once, a knot of the men broke loose from the press of bodies,
one winding up his sling for a killing shot at the priest. There was
a sudden, tremendous blast, and the sling was a broken tatter in his

Liz stood atop the pew, the double-barreled shotgun still smoking
in her hands. Everyone -- churchgoers, policemen, the attacking
cultists, even Anne -- went silent and still as she held the weapon
aloft, brandishing it at the would-be assassins.

"Alright, you primitive screwheads, listen up!" she shouted. "You
see this? This... is my BOOM-STICK!"

--from 'The Fighting Evil Dead', by Jeri Massi and Sam Raimi


[The stage. NYSSAIAS is recovered. She and EMBERICLES are
looking back and forth between the screen and each other.]

NYSSAIAS: Comments on that, Emmy? I frankly can't think of
words to describe the levels of wrongness in such a crossover.
Not that we can say on a prime-time broadcast, anyway. Sad state
for a Muse, when you think about it.

EMBERICLES: All I know is, if I had much taste, I'd be hurting
right now.

NYSSAIAS: It could always be worse.

EMBERICLES: It is, in fact, going to get worse, is it not?

NYSSAIAS: Indeed it is, and with our very next -- and thankfully
final and brief -- clip.


"...so, like, they don't call a Big Mac a Big Mac, right?"

"So, what do they call it?" Adric asked.

"A 'royale with cheese', that's what." Spike grinned smugly as they
made their way down the sidewalk.

"Are you putting me on?" Adric demanded.

"No way, that's what they call it. 'Course, I didn't have none of that
crap. I jus' grabbed a couple o' them oily squits what worked there
and had a wee nibble on their necks..."

Adric shook his head. "Oh, man, if Buffy finds out..."

Spike rounded on him even as they kept walking. "So, what if she
does, then? What's it to you or her?"

Adric shrugged easily. "Nothing to me, man. But I heard she
staked a vamp last week for doing that."

"What? Are you saying she'd stake _me_?" Spike was trembling
with barely-controlled anger.

"I didn't say she'd stake you, man. I just said she staked a vamp,
that's all. Are you saying she _wouldn't_ stake you?"

Spike looked confused for a moment, but it quickly gave way to
anger again. "Of course she wouldn't stake me!"

"If you say so." Adric hid a smirk.

Spike deflated a little. "At least, I don't _think_ she could stake
me..." He sighed as they stopped in front of an apartment building.

"So, how many are supposed to be up there?" Adric asked as they
eyed the front entrance.

Spike shrugged, his mind still partly on the staking question.
"Don't know. Four, five maybe?"

Adric just sighed and loosened his pistol under his jacket. "Four
or five? Cripes, we should have shotguns, or something. Oh, well.
Let's get in character..."

--from 'Clash Pulp Fiction', by Mags Halliday and Quentin


[The stage. NYSSAIAS and EMBERICLES are looking a bit green
around the gills.]

NYSSAIAS: Well, I think we can all agree that our last clip was a
perfect one to close on.

EMBERICLES: I think we can all agree that the viewers have all
either been hospitalized or changed the channel to 'Who Wants to
Be a Survivor's Big Brother?' by now.

NYSSAIAS: Either way, that's all for our program. Tune in next
month for our next big Special Presentation, 'When Synonyms

EMBERICLES: We'll see you there! Unless you see us first...

[Fade to credits as end music, 'Stir It Up', by Patti LaBelle,
starts playing.]

--Nyss&Emmy ^_^ ^_^ ----<3


For anyone who can't figure 'em out, the crossovers are as follows,
in order:

'Zany Zoe' drabbles, by K. Michael Wilcox with the book _Das
Kapital_, by Marx and Engels;
'Mystery Psycho Theater 3000', by BKWillis with the movie
'Psycho', directed by Alfred Hitchcock;
meta-fiction by Imran Inayat with the anime series 'Ranma 1/2', by
Rumiko Takahashi;
'King Arthur in Time and Space' series, by Paul Gadzikowski with
the movie 'Arthur', title character played by Dudley Moore;
'Books of Taliesin' by Helen Fayle with the book _Alice's
Adventures in Wonderland_, by Lewis Carroll;
'The Fighting Dead', by Jeri Massi with the 'Evil Dead' movie series,
directed by Sam Raimi; and
'Clash Fiction' series by Mags Halliday with the movie 'Pulp
Fiction', directed by Quentin Tarantino.

This was just another of those Utterly Wrong Ideas that I had and
couldn't get rid of. This was all meant in fun and with the deepest
affection for the authors mentioned, and I hope it will be taken in
that spirit.

All mentioned characters and works are property of their creators
and not me, unless I created 'em.