Good Morning London!
Chapter 1: The Mass Hysteria Begins
FYI: Yes, this is the sequel to Talk Show with Bartimaeus! But don't worry. You really don't need to have read that first. I may refer to a few things...but no major plot (what plot?) points! And it has nothing to do with a morning talk show...I just called it that...'cause I can! HA!
Disclaimers: I do not own the Bartimaeus Trilogy!
Bartimaeus: Of course you don't! I do.
Me: No. Jonathan Stroud does! You're just a character that he created with his amazing imagination!
Bartimaeus: No! I'm not made up! I'm just so interesting that he HAD to write about me to fulfill his destiny of getting a book published!!
Me: ...Yeah...Suuuuure...
"You!" hissed a steaming Jabor.
The "you" was pacing back and forth between rows of seats. Rows R and S to be exact. Sorry...The "you" was Bartimaeus.
"Yes me. Thank you for pointing out the obvious."
A number (That I don't feel like counting) of spirits had been summoned to a studio in London. They included Bartimaeus, Jabor, Faquarl, Queezle, Ascobol, and Simpkin. Thank you and good night!
Ahem...
Bartimaeus was the only one pacing. He knew why he was there. He had encountered all of this before. Except last time he had arranged it.
"HEY! I asked if you know where the hell we are, oh genius!" a voice screamed in his ear. Our favorite djinni turned to see a certain Cyclops not at all respecting his personal space.
Bartimaeus looked around ignoring that last sarcastic comment. "Oh, I know where we are."
Ascobol glared suspiciously at the higher level djinni. "Do you now?" His expression changed to something close to mischievous. "Been enjoying the little kiddy plays like...Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat?"
"Yep! You know you would really enjoy that one!" said the Egyptian boy completely serious.
Ascobol answered in the stupidest-and yet most dignified-way possible. "No I wouldn't."
There was a snickering from somewhere. It was Queezle. "That will always be funny."
"What? Proving that Ascobol is as thick as he looks? You should try it sometime. It's really quite easy," replied Bartimaeus.
Ascobol growled at this.
Meanwhile...
Simpkin was cowering in a corner. End of story.
And they all lived happily ever after!
Yeah right!
Suddenly, a girl in her early teens came bursting though the door with an air of importance. Behind her trailed five camera men plus a woman (that still only makes five, people) and their cameras.
All of the spirits, except Bartimaeus and Simpkin, the latter still trembling in his corner, were ready to attack.
The Egyptian boy was already sitting in one of the provided chairs on the stage. He thought it was best to just get this over with. But without getting hurt-physically or mentally-in the process.
"Settle down everyone!" ordered the brunette as she sat the lone chair on the opposite side of the stage from Barty.
But why would some high class djinn listen to a little human girl. She wasn't even a magician!
"You can't possibly defend yourself from us! You aren't even a magician!" Faquarl scoffed confidently.
The girl let out some long pent up maniacal laughter. "MUAHAHAHAHAHA-(cough cough)...hahaha...(cough cough)...heheh...Damn! The effect is gone."
The aforementioned entities just stared.
The teen cleared her throat. "Anywho! I may not be a magician! But I have even more power than them!"
"She does..." interrupted Bartimaeus somberly.
"Stop interrupting, foo! Ahem...As I was saying, I am the author!"
"The author of what?" inquired Ascobol.
"Um...well...an author is more like a...social class! Yeah...I have power over everything! I'm like a god!"
Once again, the aforementioned entities just stared.
"So...What have you been up to?" asked Bartimaeus innocently, surprising the aforementioned, aforementioned, aforementioned entities.
The author spun around in her chair to face him. "Homework," she stated flatly.
"Ah..."
"There's nothing good about it and I think it actually destroys brain cells!"
Bartimaeus seemed to lose interest in the author for the moment. He asked, "Where's the other one?"
She looked confused for a moment.
"Slow humans..." the Egyptian boy mumbled.
"Oh! You mean Vicki? She's not an author this time." The girl answered.
"So are you just going to ignore us? Because that wouldn't be nice." Faquarl was suddenly standing right behind the author looking hungry.
The teen was completely unruffled. "I don't taste too good you know. Too many potato chips. Next you're probably going to try to trick me into thinking that you're nice so you can gain enough trust to eat me without a fight."
"How'd she know?" wondered a baffled Ascobol.
Faquarl seemed to revolve on the spot. He glared at Ascobol so menacingly that the Cyclops could almost feel his eyebrow burning off...Or maybe that's because it really was burning off...Hmmm...
"AAAAAHHHH! MY EYEBROW!"
And for the first time ever, a blinded Cyclops was running around a studio trampling empty seat-
"About the empty seats," Bartimaeus said. "Why exactly are the seats empty? Shouldn't there be, you know...people in them?"
"Do you want the fan girls back?" the girl asked being falsely nice.
The djinni flinched.
"Didn't think so."
Queezle was very, very confused at the moment. She decided to ask a question that everyone else was afraid to ask. "Who are you?"
"I'm the author! Get it straight!" the author snapped.
"Just to tell you, djinn aren't as slow as humans. And I'm pretty sure I caught on to that after the first three times you said that." Queezle answered defiantly.
"Well excuuuse me! If you want to know my name I'll tell you!" the teen pouted.
"Really?" Ascobol had calmed down after he remembered that he had the ability to shape shift and could just re-grow the eyebrow.
The girl thought for a second. "NO!"
Who is this mysterious "author" person? That's a rhetorical question just to tell you! You all know who I am! So did you like it so far? It's not as random as the other Talk Show with Bartimaeus...But I totally meant to do that! Trust me...It will get funnier! Many chapters to go! Review!