Disclaimer: As you all very well know, this humble author owns no part of
"Labyrinth," but can always dream. . .
Dedication: To KL Morgan, for agreeing with me.
Author's note: I can thoroughly admit to trying to take the piss out of some of you with this. Apparently some of you haven't yet had the joys of experiencing dysfunctional relationships. So, for you, I give you "Bursting Bubbles" Enjoy.
Jareth was bored one day, sitting on his throne. He was bored of kicking goblins around, he was bored of horse-whipping them. He was bored of pestering his subjects, stealing babies, tormenting little girls, of his crystal balls, of absorbing people within the Labyrinth. He was just damned bored.
A leather-sheathed finger touched his lips as he looked at the empty throne room. "What can I do today?" he pondered. There were no great wars to fight. They all looked like absurd, charicaturish things. No one died, no one ever was defeated. Everyone landed into walls with a "boink," or a sword hit a helmet with a "clang." The goblins were just too stupid to actually *kill* each other, anyway. They were all just stolen, deformed children.
No goblin princesses to woo, pity. They were all too frightened of him. The last one who decided not to do his bidding was tipped headfirst into the infamous Bog. She returned to her own kingdom. The word, as it had been passed to him, is that she's been in the same bath for about four years now, but there's never any hope of recovery, of course.
What a pity.
Then he decided. With a small flash of insight, he decided he'd use a pathway that he long had forgotten about, one that when it was opened, he thought he'd never, ever, *ever* use again. . .
**************************************************************************** ******
A long time ago, when Toby was just a little baby, Sarah wished open a pathway through which any of her magical friends could enter, whenever they wanted.
The rationale, was that she "needed" them. . ."for no reason at all." A statement that included "all" of them. A sigh should be raised for such a phrase. More words that she took for granted.
Because, just as her friends could pass through, so could he. Him. Uh- hum. *That* him. He could come and go without even so much as saying "I wish. . ." Not that he ever *had.* Sarah guessed that he was just so bitter that she defeated him that she'd never want to see her again. But there were those nights, those long, thundery, windy, stormy nights where she'd just lie awake in bed, expecting her windows to swing open to welcome in that same snowy-white owl. . .
But, fifteen years later, it hasn't happened. And, Sarah was more than thankful. She wasn't even thinking about it anymore. In fact, this night she was sitting in front of her computer, searching the internet for information on when the next Renaissance fair would be coming to town, her mind a million miles away when. . .
"Hello, Sarah."
Sarah snapped around in her swivel chair. That voice could only belong to one person.
"Well, snatch my brother and call me David Bowie." She was being rather indignant. Of course, her mantra since the night of the *incident* had become "You have no power over me." It proved really useful when telemarketers rung her.
"Jareth, it's been a while."
Jareth stood there, in one of his bloated outfits. His collar stood out in tentacles, almost as if they were spider's legs. The rest was shiny, shiny black. A shiny black tunic, shiny black leather pants, boots and gloves. He stood with his hands on his hips. Sarah was using most of her willpower to keep her from making a joke about Jareth being reincarnated from a drag queen. It was the only thing that was keeping her from being nervous.
"What brings you back?"
"Well, Sarah," he started, pacing towards her. "Oh don't worry, it's not about you. Although I *do* need your help."
Sarah narrowed her eyes. This definitely sounded like trouble.
Before she could ask, he blurted it out.
"Could I possibly use your computer for a little while?"
Sarah shook her head and gave him a sneer. She was no longer nervous, but she was certainly confused.
"What, the labyrinth hasn't exited the stone age? The great and powerful Jareth," she dramatically quipped, "needs a lowly servant girl to fetch him an internet connection?"
Jareth was now the one looking confused. "How did you know?"
"Don't underestimate me, Jareth." Sarah started to sound rather snotty. She had every reason. " I handled your Labyrinth pretty well. Did you really think I forgot how truly arrogant you were? Of *course* you'd come up to the Aboveground to check on your fan club."
"Well done, Sarah. Always fast on your feet."
"A compliment? That's a first. But you'll find I don't have to do anything. I can just *describe* what's going on out there, and I'm afraid you won't like it."
Jareth looked confused again. "Why is that?"
"Apparently, there are *plenty* of people who appreciate you, and me, too, but. . ."
"Yes?"
Sarah hesitated. "They think we're in love."
"Oh, fury," said Jareth, almost exhaustedly.
"It gets worse," she continued.
"How could it be worse than that?"
Sarah was pursing her lips and trying to hold back the laughter. "They also," she started, her chest spasming, "have a well-developed appreciation for. . ." And then she said something which Jareth made out very slowly through the sound of Sarah's heavy and boisterous laughing, but very slowly. . .
". . .*your tights*." Sarah was still laughing close to hysterically.
"Damn," Jareth snapped. He was the Goblin King, big G, big K. He was certainly NOT the tail end of any jokes, least of all perpetrated by humans. So, he decided that he was going to do the one thing that he thought they might listen to.
"Sarah," he said. But to no avail, she was still laughing. "SARAH!"
"What is it Jareth? Don't get your tights in a twist." Another fit of laughter overtook her. She was nearly rolling on the floor.
"Sarah, be serious for one moment." Jareth *was* really mad. And a plot was brewing. No crystal balls popped out of nowhere and rolled onto the tips of his fingers. So it must mean he wanted to take them *all* down. . .in one fell swoop.
She stifled the laugher down to a giggle. "Okay, okay, what?"
"We are going to hold a press conference."
Dedication: To KL Morgan, for agreeing with me.
Author's note: I can thoroughly admit to trying to take the piss out of some of you with this. Apparently some of you haven't yet had the joys of experiencing dysfunctional relationships. So, for you, I give you "Bursting Bubbles" Enjoy.
Jareth was bored one day, sitting on his throne. He was bored of kicking goblins around, he was bored of horse-whipping them. He was bored of pestering his subjects, stealing babies, tormenting little girls, of his crystal balls, of absorbing people within the Labyrinth. He was just damned bored.
A leather-sheathed finger touched his lips as he looked at the empty throne room. "What can I do today?" he pondered. There were no great wars to fight. They all looked like absurd, charicaturish things. No one died, no one ever was defeated. Everyone landed into walls with a "boink," or a sword hit a helmet with a "clang." The goblins were just too stupid to actually *kill* each other, anyway. They were all just stolen, deformed children.
No goblin princesses to woo, pity. They were all too frightened of him. The last one who decided not to do his bidding was tipped headfirst into the infamous Bog. She returned to her own kingdom. The word, as it had been passed to him, is that she's been in the same bath for about four years now, but there's never any hope of recovery, of course.
What a pity.
Then he decided. With a small flash of insight, he decided he'd use a pathway that he long had forgotten about, one that when it was opened, he thought he'd never, ever, *ever* use again. . .
**************************************************************************** ******
A long time ago, when Toby was just a little baby, Sarah wished open a pathway through which any of her magical friends could enter, whenever they wanted.
The rationale, was that she "needed" them. . ."for no reason at all." A statement that included "all" of them. A sigh should be raised for such a phrase. More words that she took for granted.
Because, just as her friends could pass through, so could he. Him. Uh- hum. *That* him. He could come and go without even so much as saying "I wish. . ." Not that he ever *had.* Sarah guessed that he was just so bitter that she defeated him that she'd never want to see her again. But there were those nights, those long, thundery, windy, stormy nights where she'd just lie awake in bed, expecting her windows to swing open to welcome in that same snowy-white owl. . .
But, fifteen years later, it hasn't happened. And, Sarah was more than thankful. She wasn't even thinking about it anymore. In fact, this night she was sitting in front of her computer, searching the internet for information on when the next Renaissance fair would be coming to town, her mind a million miles away when. . .
"Hello, Sarah."
Sarah snapped around in her swivel chair. That voice could only belong to one person.
"Well, snatch my brother and call me David Bowie." She was being rather indignant. Of course, her mantra since the night of the *incident* had become "You have no power over me." It proved really useful when telemarketers rung her.
"Jareth, it's been a while."
Jareth stood there, in one of his bloated outfits. His collar stood out in tentacles, almost as if they were spider's legs. The rest was shiny, shiny black. A shiny black tunic, shiny black leather pants, boots and gloves. He stood with his hands on his hips. Sarah was using most of her willpower to keep her from making a joke about Jareth being reincarnated from a drag queen. It was the only thing that was keeping her from being nervous.
"What brings you back?"
"Well, Sarah," he started, pacing towards her. "Oh don't worry, it's not about you. Although I *do* need your help."
Sarah narrowed her eyes. This definitely sounded like trouble.
Before she could ask, he blurted it out.
"Could I possibly use your computer for a little while?"
Sarah shook her head and gave him a sneer. She was no longer nervous, but she was certainly confused.
"What, the labyrinth hasn't exited the stone age? The great and powerful Jareth," she dramatically quipped, "needs a lowly servant girl to fetch him an internet connection?"
Jareth was now the one looking confused. "How did you know?"
"Don't underestimate me, Jareth." Sarah started to sound rather snotty. She had every reason. " I handled your Labyrinth pretty well. Did you really think I forgot how truly arrogant you were? Of *course* you'd come up to the Aboveground to check on your fan club."
"Well done, Sarah. Always fast on your feet."
"A compliment? That's a first. But you'll find I don't have to do anything. I can just *describe* what's going on out there, and I'm afraid you won't like it."
Jareth looked confused again. "Why is that?"
"Apparently, there are *plenty* of people who appreciate you, and me, too, but. . ."
"Yes?"
Sarah hesitated. "They think we're in love."
"Oh, fury," said Jareth, almost exhaustedly.
"It gets worse," she continued.
"How could it be worse than that?"
Sarah was pursing her lips and trying to hold back the laughter. "They also," she started, her chest spasming, "have a well-developed appreciation for. . ." And then she said something which Jareth made out very slowly through the sound of Sarah's heavy and boisterous laughing, but very slowly. . .
". . .*your tights*." Sarah was still laughing close to hysterically.
"Damn," Jareth snapped. He was the Goblin King, big G, big K. He was certainly NOT the tail end of any jokes, least of all perpetrated by humans. So, he decided that he was going to do the one thing that he thought they might listen to.
"Sarah," he said. But to no avail, she was still laughing. "SARAH!"
"What is it Jareth? Don't get your tights in a twist." Another fit of laughter overtook her. She was nearly rolling on the floor.
"Sarah, be serious for one moment." Jareth *was* really mad. And a plot was brewing. No crystal balls popped out of nowhere and rolled onto the tips of his fingers. So it must mean he wanted to take them *all* down. . .in one fell swoop.
She stifled the laugher down to a giggle. "Okay, okay, what?"
"We are going to hold a press conference."