Hey, what the hell. An update. I can really feel those creative juices flowing. This is starting to get kind of hard. Think I'll just skip past the first week of filming. Thank for all of the kind words and encouragement. Uh, not much other news (Got a neat one-shot forming in my cerebral cortex, but lets see how this pans out) so, here's hoping you enjoy.

-Jackie Boy

Disclaimer: Dog lost a tooth, poor old woman. But She's still mine; Rugrats, not mine.

-Reservoir Rats Chapter 3

Angelica was in an odd spot. She was starring in a movie actual people would see; lots of people. Sure, she wasn't a princess or a romantic heroine, but she starred. The film had been a breeze thus far. Tommy was behind the camera most shots, and the few scenes he had been in had been filmed by Dil, or as the credits called him, Second Unit. Her scenes had been well done, and Tommy's script had potential. No ending yet, but still.

There had been a few scenes with Finster that she hadn't been too particularly fond of. The "drive from the club" scene had been quite, well; they were close quarter scenes. So fat though Finster had been a complete gentleman. Not that he was ever anything else, nor had she noticed any change in his behavior at all, but little things in his personality she had once disregarded now came under closer scrutiny. Tripping over words, zoning out, they had deeper meaning. In her mind, every pause in their conversations had been followed by Angelica wondering what Finster was wondering. Still, the filming had been fun. The "airport scene" had been particularly amusing. Further still, she avoided contact with him whenever possible, just in case. It was just weird, knowing next time they were alone he might just ask her on a date. It was, ak-weird, to use the parlance of our times.

In the Finster household, things were going swimmingly. With the exception of Charles C. Pickles III, he was pacing franticly in his room. The scrip needed an ending. Things looked bad for Chuckie's Character. Every achievable ending wound up with either; his character dead, Angelica's character dead, or both alive and miserable. Chuckie liked happy ending. He wanted his character happy. He wanted Angelica happy. No, Angelica's character, he wanted Angelica's character happy. This was getting old. He missed the old days, or, as Phil had always said, "Before shit got weird." Crude, but it was effective. "Things" had gotten weird. He had fallen madly in love, which was foolish. But, he had fallen madly in love with Angelica Pickles, which was just dangerous. He was never quite sure when it had happened, but he began thinking about her differently. For the past sixteen years of his life, she had controlled him. But when he began to image life without her, he got scared. Look how far he had come. How he owed her so much. Then he found himself pondering her eyes, then her hair. He had tried to force these from his mind but found them comforting. It was one and a half years ago when he found himself "checking her out" at one of her parties. She was walking away and he snuck a glance towards her. Then, his mind fizzled out. "We have just lost cabin pressure. Please return to your seats." He spent weeks sorting these feelings out before embracing them. He felt so alive near his fearless warrior. She was confident and stunning, brave and invincible. All the things he was not. He wanted to grab her and shout all these things he felt, how happy he would try to make her, how good it would be, that he loved her.

Doing so would be ill advised. Part of what he loved about her was what he privately referred to as her "fierce spirit and spunk." She was not beyond slugging someone who crossed, and she was not above kicking a man while he was down. If he spoke, then she would tear him down. So, he pined quietly, ever waiting for the moment when his nerves would hold long enough to ask her out.

Tomorrow was a Thursday. Or maybe a Friday, not important, but tomorrow, yes tomorrow, tomorrow would be a good day. He would try.

So he stopped pacing, and prepared for bed. He managed to drift to sleep after an hour of tossing. His dreams were fairly pleasant. She was there, and they were sailing a boat for badgers or ferrets or something. A Koala had built a go-kart for them too, he thinks. It didn't matter; she was there. And nothing else mattered at that moment.

-Okay, Chapter four will have Chuckie/Angelica interaction. Holy hell, this is fun. So, thanks. Review if you want, "it makes no nevermind to me," as my Grandfather would say. Thank you and God bless.

-Jackie-Boy