A brief note here: my entry for Vaguely Familiar's humor fic challenge on Trillian's forums. Many thanks to Trillian4210 and Rian Sage for looking this over for me! More notes at the bottom.

I was getting very frustrated, very quickly. I had been staring at the computer screen in thought for a solid half hour, doing nothing but tapping my fingers against the desk. I had nothing. No thoughts, no ideas, not the slightest possibility for a plot. For the life of me, I couldn't write this humor story.

I had writer's block.

"Aglaia!" I shout, having had enough. I needed my muse. And since I am too lazy to get up and look for her, shouting for her will have to do. I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest, glaring at the screen and the blank Word document in front of me. If computers could talk, I'm sure it would be mocking me right now. Honestly, I'm convinced that the clicky noise it makes when it's "doing something" is really just the laptop laughing at me. Stupid technology.

"Aglaia!" I shout again, looking around. Where in the devil is my muse? She's supposed to be here, helping me write this damned story. I decide to search the entire apartment, but she's no where in sight and there's no note. She didn't even leave a plot bunny or plot gizka to keep me company.

"Figures," I grumble. "Stupid irresponsible muses. I knew I should have put a collar on her. . .now she's off on another of her constitutionals. The least she could do is bring me back some food or something." I sigh and look at the laptop again. "Fine. So my main muse is gone. Looks like I'll have to use the backups."

I am not thrilled with the idea, but I'm desperate enough to use it. The backups really aren't that creative and annoy me more than help me, but they manage to come up with a decent idea every now and then. And like I said, I'm desperate.

I stalk over to the closet–yes, I keep them in the closet. Don't worry, it's entirely humane. . .if you ignore the fact that it's a small, dark place. Once there, I open the door, grab the muse closest to me, and close the door again.

"Okay, here's the deal," I say as I drag him back into the living room. "Aglaia is apparently taking another mental health day, or whatever the hell it is, so I need help writing this story. Which means, you need to make good on the creativity–you are one of my muses after all." I push him onto the couch and then stand over him, trying to look intimidating–image is everything, after all. "Got it?"

Carth glares at me. "What if I don't want to help you?"

I sigh in exasperation. I should have grabbed one of the others and left Carth in there. . .he's always been a bit more obstinate. "You don't really have a choice, flyboy. I'm the writer, you're the muse–you work for me. Now make with the ideas before I put you back in the closet." Carth glares at me some more, but I'm really quite immune to that look by now. I might still fall under the "puppy dog look" that he does so well, but he hasn't figured that out yet and I don't think I'll tell him.

He finally groans in annoyance and motions to the computer. "Fine. What's it about?"

"I don't know. It just has to be funny."

He arches an eyebrow. "That's it? It just has to be funny? I don't see what the problem is."

I plop down onto the couch next to him. "I can't write funny. I've been writing your angsty self for so long that I can't get away from it now. Trying to figure out why you're so delusional has put me in a rut."

"I'm not delusional!"

I just look at him incredulously. "You're kidding right?"

Carth shakes his head. "I am not delusional."

I turn toward him and start to tick points off of my hand. "You think that the entire galaxy has it in for you. You're convinced your own mother would betray you if she had the chance. You think red armor is quote "a good idea." You think your blinding orange jacket is "sexy". You–"

"Alright, I get it!" Carth pouts and crosses his arms over his chest. "You can just stop right there. And for the record, you giving me fashion advice is real rich, you know that? You're wearing a brown belt and black shoes."

I look down and feel my face heat. "I wasn't paying attention. . .it was dark when I got dressed."

"You got dressed at noon."

I quickly stand so that I can look down at him. He's not buying the whole intimidation thing this time though. "Fine, we're both hopeless fashion victims. That's not the point. You're still paranoid and you're not helping! Earn your keep for once, give me an idea I can use."

Carth sighs melodramatically and I feel like strangling him. Now, don't get me wrong, making Carth one of my muses has certainly worked out. I mean, the man can be incredibly charming when he wants to be and I could stare at him all day. But the term "drama queen" doesn't even begin to cover it when he gets in one of his moods. Sometimes I just want to take him to a taxidermist and get him stuffed–that way I could still look at him, but not have to listen to him.

"Write something about breeding gizka."

I stare at him. Just stare. For a good few seconds. "Breeding gizka? That's all you can give me? Breeding gizka?"

Carth raises his hands defensively. "Hey, that's funny! They end up all over the place, you can't sit without almost squashing one."

"I can't believe you. If you think they're so funny, you'll just love sleeping with them tonight. Assuming you can sleep through all your laughter." I can't believe this is the best he can give me. I make a mental note to lock him up with the gizka as a lesson. Honestly. "I think I need to go get the others."

He sits up a little straighter. "Hey, why do you need them? We're doing fine without them!" I just give him a look and he backs down–that's another thing, that man is oddly possessive of me, which is even weirder since I technically control him. I really don't understand it, but he doesn't like his "territory" and his "personal time" with me being invaded by the other muses. Men. "Why do you need both of them though? You can at least get along without that scoundrel."

"It takes two to match the amount of whining you do," I grumble. I turn and head back to the closet, opening the door. "Alright, out into the living room, you're on duty." The two men inside look at me for a moment before shuffling out obediently. They both sit on the couch next to Carth, looking at me quietly.

I stand before my three backup muses, eyeing them speculatively. "Alright. I need ideas, ones that are preferably funny. I don't care if it's dark humor, sarcastic wit or satire–as long as its funny."

Atton jerks his head in Carth's direction. "Captain Paranoid over there not good enough for you?"

Carth bristles under the jibe. "I'm more than good enough for her. And stop calling me that!"

Atton smirks. "I'll stop calling you that when it stops being true."

"Don't you have a ship to crash?"

"Only if you're standing where I'm supposed to land."

"Well, since you never manage to land where you're supposed to, I think I'll be okay."

"Hey!" I clap my hands to get their attention. "You two can fight later after I've managed to get my hands on a vat of jello. . .or pudding. Until then, you're not helping." I turn to the only muse that hasn't spoken yet. "What about you? Anything productive to say?"

Kavar studies me and I squirm a bit under his gaze. "This snippiness doesn't work well for you."

I frown. "Is that even a word?"

Kavar shrugs and waves a hand in dismissal. "It doesn't matter. You're the English major, you figure it out. Still, your attitude is not helping your situation."

"You're not helping my situation!" The three of them sit and stare at me as I fume and start to pace before them. That's it, I'm taking them to the taxidermist tomorrow. . .it's that or cut out their vocal cords and the former would be less work for me. "Okay. Let's pretend for a moment that you're doing your job and helping me. I need to write a humor story. Give me ideas." I swing around to jab my finger in Carth's direction. "And so help me, if you say breeding gizka again, I'm going to strip you and cover you with honey."

The three men exchange looks and then return their gaze back to me. Carth has the beginnings of a smile on his face and he says, "That doesn't sound like a punishment to me."

"Except that I'm going to tie you to a tree and let the wildlife get you."

The smile drops from his face and he shrinks back in the couch. Kavar frowns at me. "That isn't very nice."

"Yeah, well, when I have writer's block, I'm not a very nice person. Now, can you please give me ideas? Funny, amusing, laughable ideas?"

They stay quiet for a few minutes, thinking. I cross my arms and tap my foot impatiently against the ground. Carth eventually clears his throat and leans forward. "How about this–Atton crashes–"

"Hey!"

"Let me finish! Atton crashes onto a planet that's entirely populated by women."

Atton grins. "I like this already."

"But they're all sober, celibate and refuse to gamble."

The look of abject horror on Atton's face is priceless and makes me laugh. Just for that I won't lock Carth up with the gizka tonight. The offended muse scowls and says, "That is definitely not funny. How about a story where Carth is chased–and eventually mauled–by his legion of fangirls."

Carth looks rather uncomfortable with the thought. "You're just jealous of my following."

Atton snorts. "Yeah, I'm jealous of being molested by a group of adolescents. Not so much."

Kavar, who has been watching the exchange breaks in and says, "Why not just trap these two on a ship for a week? They might kill each other, but you'll probably get some laughs out of it."

Carth and Atton stare at the Jedi Master and I grin after I turn the idea over in my head. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around! That could just work. They go off to save their significant others from some fate, they crash and get trapped, and then the women have to come and save them! Oh, I love irony."

"No way!" Carth protests. "You can't possibly leave me trapped on a ship with him!"

Atton glances at Carth briefly. "Hey, feeling's mutual. There is no way I could stand being on a ship with this orange traffic cone."

"Hey!" I yell, bringing their attention back to me. "Would you two cut it out? Honestly, you're worse than a pack of five-year-olds. It doesn't really matter what you think at this point, if it's funny, it's going on paper. And you two trapped on a ship is funny."

I hop over to my desk, grinning at the ideas rolling through my head. I ignore Carth and Atton's grumbling and pull out my chair, ready to get started. But then the front door opens and Aglaia, my muse, strolls in. She grins and takes off her sunglasses, her eyes lingering on the backup muses. She frowns and turns toward me. "What are they doing out?"

My mouth drops open and I can feel my temper rising again–I think I need to go to some anger management classes. Or just get a new muse. The flock of plot bunnies and plot gizka that are always around her have already scattered around the room and I glare at them. One of the gizka–probably the one that's the Morgana story I've been slogging through–immediately hops onto Carth's lap. A couple of the bunnies begin to gnaw on Kavar's robe. For the most part, they stay away from Atton because he "accidentally" kicked one across the room one day. I can't blame him, but that pissed Aglaia off, and I'm the one that has to deal with a pissy muse.

"They're out because you decided to take a walk without telling anyone!" I fold my arms and start to tap my foot.

She arches a perfect eyebrow. The thing with Aglaia is that she's absolutely stunning. She could put any woman to shame. But she also has the attitude of a viper kinrath. . .she'll poison you if you stick around too long. "I didn't think you would need me. . .you're supposed to be writing a philosophy paper."

I glower at her. "That got put on hold. It doesn't matter, you aren't supposed to leave, not without telling me! You're my muse for crying out loud, you answer to me!"

Aglaia snorts, covering her mouth with a dainty hand. I want to thrash her if only to ruin her perfect complexion and maybe win an argument for once. "Right. Of course, forgive me. So what's this story supposed to be about?"

She perches on the arm of the couch next to Kavar and begins to play with his ear. Aglaia generally isn't too fond of the backups–she thinks they're overkill. But she knows that I won't get rid of them, so she takes great pleasure in making them squirm. Poor Kavar was her target at the moment I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose, wondering where my aspirin is. "Something funny."

Aglaia frowns. "But you don't do humor."

"Tell me about it. Kavar came up with the idea of stranding Carth and Atton on a ship together. What do you think?"

She turns her head to look at the two men. "How is that funny?"

"They hate each other. It could be comical."

Aglaia shrugs. "I guess, if you use the right dialogue and make the situation particularly stressful. Sure, it could work." She looks again at Carth and Atton who are in the middle of glaring at each other. "What is their problem?"

I glance at them again and sigh. "The usual ego problems I assume. They've been baiting each other since I let them out. One of these days I'm sure they'll fight for the position of alpha male, or whatever it is they're riled up over."

As if on cue, the two men stand, still glaring at each other. "That's it!" Carth shouts, though Atton hasn't said anything for several minutes. "You need to be taught a lesson."

Atton growls, narrowing his eyes. "Oh, I think you're the one that's going to learn something." Simultaneously, they both take off their jackets and strip off their shirts. My eyes go wide as I stare at them, confused as hell, but enjoying the view nonetheless. The gizka and bunnies form into a circle on the floor, with Carth and Atton in the middle. The two men kick their boots off and begin to circle each other, wearing nothing but their pants.

I can't help it. I really can't. For all my professed willpower, I'm still a woman with working eyes. I drop onto the couch next to Kavar and watch as Carth and Atton begin to wrestle with one another, trash talking as they fight.

"Down you go!" Carth yells as he makes a leap for Atton.

"Why do you always say that? Get a new catchphrase!"

"Like what? Pure Pazaak? Yeah, I can see the genius in it."

"There's more genius there than you can understand."

"I understand that it's time you stopped talking!" The two men crashed together and fell to the ground.

"I thought you said it was the usual problems?" Aglaia asks, sitting down next to me. Her eyes are also wide and staring.

"I thought it was, but I guess it went up a level. They have been grating on each other's nerves a bit more than usual."

Kavar sighs and shakes his head. "Do you want me to separate them?"

I think for a moment. "Sure. If by "separate them" you intend to take your shirt off and get in the fray." I grin at him. Kavar looks at me, unamused. I just roll my eyes and return my attention to the men in front of me. "Fine, don't entertain me." Kavar just stands up and leaves the room, mumbling to himself.

Our heads tilt to the side, eyes fixed on the scene before us. "Why didn't we think of this before?" Aglaia asks.

I shake my head. "I have no idea. Remind me to burn all their shirts though."

Aglaia nods. "I'll help." We watch the two men wrestle some more. "I thought you had a humor story to write."

I shrug and wave my hand vaguely at the computer. "That can wait. This is so much more important."

Well, there you have it. This is the first time I've ever written humor and I'm not too sure how it turned out. For the life of me, I couldn't write anything in-universe, so I ended up doing a bit of a reality piece. Frankly, I'm just convinced I've lost it. Who knows, maybe I'll write humor again! And in case anyone asks, yes, I have actually named my muse Aglaia, she does have a herd of plot bunnies and plot gizka and she also likes to take frequent constitutionals. I really do need a new muse. As always, your input is greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading! - Alexandra