The following story is the most recently written fanfiction I'd don for the recently deceased L.A. Meyer's Bloody Jack Adventures. A little scene, a pair of familiar characters, and a long way to a cheap joke. (Which many of Jacky Faber's adventures seem to be, anyways.) The following comment from the message boards is the direct reason for my writing, when some fans mentioned that yes, Jacky & Co. are about during the age when Jane Austen would first be releasing her novels:

I forced myself, out of a sense of duty, to watch the film of 'Sense and Sensibility'. Sorry, Hugh Grant is cute, but ... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

J. (L.A. Meyer)

...And now, the fic...

"This Miss Austen is a pretty good writer, I suppose. She's no Amy Trevelyne."

"Hah-hah. But your compliment is taken in its intent, Jacky dear." Pausing, Amy adds. "I do enjoy Miss Austen's quality for observation for the pressures of life fo a young woman in England, one really has a sense that it's quite different than my own life. Practically all the Americans and Englishmen share now is a language. And even that is drifting further and further away from its origin, if you'd never noticed 'Miss Clahrissa Worrrthington Howe of tha Virginya Howes' way of speaking."

"Amy!" I Guffaw, 'That was Clarissa dead to rights!" Eh, water passed under the bridge, I suppose, but I'm not really one to flare up in anger over hearing her name like I was only a short time ago.

"But still. I can't help but feel- that something's missing from This "Sense and Sensibility". Something that I look for in my novels- a bit of- whatsit- a bit of dash?"

"Dash? What, there weren't enough cutthroat pirates? Not enough randy foreign agents? Pitched battles? Not enough drunken brawls and bawdy ballads, attempted assortments of rape, ravishment and rakehell seduction?" Amy says with an increasingly sly grin.

A judgement of my own, and I must admit by now, rather reckless, adventures? Or is she just smiling at that turn of alliteration?

"Well, at least a sea voyage. Everybody ought to go to sea at some point."

"Where certainly they shall be set upon by some selkie or squid, yuck." Amy replies.

I'm up from the hay with a shot! "That's the ticket! A giant squid! Or the leviathan, or some other sea monster!"

"And what then?" Amy asks, grinning, her hands slowly, limply extending as she staggers forward, her voice hollow. "Shall the dead riiiise frum their graaaves?". And she's barely able to keep a straight face as she shambles towards me.

"Yes!" And I'm almost tearing up from laughing. And as Amy topples me over back onto the hay. "Put that in your letter!"

Amy rocks back, clutching her stomach, trying to control her breath. "Very well then! I'll *giggle* write Miss Jane Austen, "Dear Miss Austen, while I and the redoubtable Jacky Faber enjoyed your writing to a degree, we'd find them much improved by the inclusion of Sea Monsters and Undead Ghouls!"

And at that, she erupts with laughter until we're both weak.

Ah, Jane Austen. You can keep your stuffy parlors and fancy balls. Me? All Jacky Faber needs is a rainy day, a pile of hay, and a good friend to share it with.