WHOO! Over 5,000 hits for this story! And over 20,000 words with this chapter. That actually seems kind of pathetic, how much time and energy I've put into this...huh.

Also, apparently Angelina Jolie is pregnant. As is often the case with celebrity news, I was the last person in the world not to realize that. Had I, then she would have been pregnant during her brief appearance in Alagaesia. But...eh, whatcha gonna do? We'll just say that story takes place in the near past.

My ideas just keep getting randomer. I also seem to be neglecting the main characters and plot of the books lately. Will try to fix that in later chapters...maybe.

Chapter Fourteen
Angela Makes Waffles

"La la la LA!"

Solumbum growled, curled up on the rug. His witch-slave had been singing to herself all morning, and, as a cat, the thought of so much joy in the world was slowly filling him with horrible, horrible rage. Damn it, didn't she know what time it was?! It was noon, damn it! He was supposed to be asleep!

"And whatis making you so chipper today?" he grumbled, finally giving up on his morning werecat-nap and stretching.

"I'm making waffles!"Angela sang, carrying a mixing bowl in one arm and holding a wooden spoon with the other. Then, more briskly, "The Varden are having their annual fundraising breakfast-for-dinner thing tonight, so I'm making my Alagaesia-famous waffles to help increase revenue. Just my way to help out the cause."

She turned back to happily mixing her batter. Solumbum just stared. "So...you're a powerful magician, trained in arcane and powerful arts, able to see through time and brew powerful spells and potions...and the best way you can think to contribute is to make waffles?"

"Yeah-huh."

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I'm going out," he said simply, sauntering to the door. "I can think of more useful ways to help out our cause."

And so, donning a black hood, he went off to torture and maim all the Imperial prisoners held in the dungeon that day.

Angela, humming to herself, went over to her spice cabinet and took down a few of her secret ingrediants--grounded roots, a sweetening serum, and some bile-of-toads-that-were-actually-frogs. Mixing these into her batter, she was about to pour them into ye olde waffle iron, when suddenly, A GANG OF MEXICAN VAMPIRES BURST IN THROUGH THE WINDOW!

"Agh!" Angela screamed, clutching her mixing bowl to her chest. "Mexican vampires!"

"¡Somos vampiros mexicanos!" the lead vampire cried."¡Dénos sus galletas, bruja ditzy!" and he pointed a clawed talon at the mixing bowl in her arms.

Angela gasped. "You want my waffles? Never!" She threw the bowl down on the counter and made a karate pose. "¡Intenta y tome, si usted tiene los cojones!"

The vampires let out a collective roar and attacked, but Angela had her trusty wooden mixing spoon, and breaking it quickly on the counter edge, she had a workable stake. A few moments of brief fighting ensued, with fangs flashing, arms punching, and wood stabbing. When it was all over, Angela was standing there, bloody, bruised and with torn clothes, but surrounded by the rags, dust and sombreros of her vanquished foes.

Panting, she let out a sigh. "Oh, dear. Now I'll have to clean up this mess." And she grabbed a cleaning rag and got to work.

It took about fifteen minutes to clean up the mess--even with her strongest spells, that vampire dust made simply horrid stains on the tile--and, dusting herself off, she checked the sundial by the window. "Oh, dear--I have to hurry, or the waffles won't be done in time for the breakfast/dinner!"

She found, however, that her bowl of waffle mix was in no fit condition to be poured--a bit of vampire dust had gotten mixed inside it. Unwilling to throw the whole batch away, she managed to spoon out most of the corpse-ash, thinking that she should perhaps add a bit more vegetable oil to make up for any possible dryness. She had just gotten the bottle out of her cupboard, however, when suddenly, A FLOCK OF HORRIBLE HARPIES FLEW IN THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR!

"Agh!" Angela cried, throwing the bottle into the air. "Harpies!"

The flock of horrifying monsters cackled evilly--with the heads of women (and supermodels they were not) and the bodies of underfed vultures, their wings stinking of death and carnage, they flew around the room, diving at Angela, who bent over her mixing bowl in a desperate effort to protect it.

"We have been sent by your evil identical twin half-sister, Fallenangela, who has always been jealous of your waffle-making abilities, in order to ruin your food, since we harpies can instantly make even the most delicious foods terrible with a touch!"

"Oh no! That's horrible!" Angela cried.

"Yes, we shall ruin your waffles!" the harpy cried.

"No, I meant what you just said! It was so clunky and expository!" Angela said. "I mean, really, does the author care about verisimilitude at all?"

The witch paused in her protecting-waffles-from-harpies task for a moment to consider the implications of that statement, then she shook her head and then cried out, "But I won't let you harpies ruin my food!"

"Ha!" another harpy cried. "Foolish witch! You know that no good magic has power over us! How do you intend to stop us?"

"With my ROBOTIC MONKEY ARMY!" Angela cried, pointing into the air dramatically.

The harpies all blinked. "Robotic monkey army?" one said, cocking her head to one side.

"ATTACK!"

Suddenly, from everywhere--behind the chairs, under the tables, pouring out of the bedroom and the cauldrons and Solumbum's litter box--came dozens of robotic monkeys, who leaped at the harpies, pounding them into a bloody pulp with their metal fists. Unaffected by their horrible spells, or the harpies' inherit magical resistance, the monkeys made quick work of the fell demons, and after a few brief moments of squawking and the flying of feathers, the beasts all lay dead upon the floor.

"Whoo...thank you, drones," Angela said, relaxing and placing her mixing bowl back on the counter. "Now, just gather up the bodies and dump them somewhere, would you?"

"Where, mistress?" one robot asked, hefting up a harpy corpse.

"Hmm..." Angela thought for a moment.

Arya let out a contented sigh. "Mmm...that was a nice nap," she said, stretching her arms and legs in her bed. Then she froze. "What feels like feathers?" she wondered, sitting up and blinking blearily.

Angela heard a distant scream. Smiling contentedly, she peeled the last of her waffles from the anachronistic waffle iron, and set it on the plate with the others. "There," she said, smiling to herself. "Now all I need are some strawberries..." She bustled over to the fridge. "Strawberries with my secret waffle recipe makes for the greatest meal..."

So she dug around in the fridge, looking for strawberries, which apparently grow in Alagaesia. Does that make sense? I don't know, I don't even know where strawberries grow in this reality...or for that matter the Alagaesian climate. Wait, does this story take place when the Varden are in the mountains or Surda? Could either support strawberry production? I doubt they could have imported them from somewhere else, I mean, with rising gas prices that's getting very expensive, and they don't even have any of that...

And while we're off topic of the story anyway, I would like to remind readers to please leave reviews, and to check out my other--

"Stop with that in the middle of the story!" Angela cried, taking a bowl of strawberries out of the fridge. "I mean, seriously, it's totally lame!"

Rolling her eyes, she went to the counter and began to cut up the strawberries, but just as she was almost done, LORD VOLDEMORT SUDDENLY APPARATED INTO THE ROOM!

"Agh!" he cried with a jump. "This isn't Hogsmeade!"

"Agh!" Angela cried, jumping up with the knife still in her hands. Then she blinked. "T--Tom?"

Lord Voldemort blinked. "Oh--A-Angie? It's, uh..." he looked away awkwardly, "been a long time."

"Yes, it has," she said softly, looking off into the distance. "Not since that night in Tijuana, when we--wait!" She spun around, glaring. "I know what this is about! You're after my secret waffle recipe, aren't you?!"

"Huh?" The Dark Lord blinked. "Wuh--no. I was just trying to Apparate, and I must have overshot with an Interdimensional Rift and--"

"Well, you didn't get them in the divorce proceedings and you're not getting them now!" Angela cried, and deftly threw her knife at him. It went spinning in the air in a dramatic, unrealistic action-movie-ish way and pierced him in the chest. He let out a cry and vanished in a puff of smoke, his soul flying off back to the Harry Potteruniverse. Right? Yeah, that makes sense, because they're bound to the Horcruxes, that's why he doesn't go to Weird Magical Train Heaven, and since they're in the HP world...yeah, that makes sense. I think.

"Huh," Angela said, throwing back her hair and bending down to pick up the knife from the floor. "Well, that was awkward. Anyway, I have just enough time to clean this up, finish cutting up those strawberries and get these waffles down to the fundraiser!"

Just as she was finishing up, Solumbum sauntered in. "Well, found out some mildly important information and three prisoners died," he said, arching his back lazily and slipping off his hood. "How was your day?"

"Busy," she said. "But look!" She held up her waffles triumphantly, laughing. "Got them all done. Now we can go deliver them to the fundraiser!"

"Great," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

So the two went off for the dining chamber where the fundraiser was to take place. Everybody in Alagaesia was there practically, including most of the good characters and even a few minor villains. Outside the dining chamber, they met Nasuada, who was doing some quick math on a clipboard.

"Hell-o!" Angela trilled happily, swooping over to her, holding up her plate. "I have my contribution to the Varden right here, a big, heaping stack of my Alagaesia-famous waffles!"

Nasuada looked up, startled. "Oh." She looked sheepish. "Um...actually, Angela, we cancelled the whole breakfast/dinner thing."

Angela's face fell. "Cancelled...it?"

"Um...yes, I'm sorry. Didn't you hear? There just wasn't enough interest, so we had to come up with a better way to raise the funds..."

Just then the door to the chamber opened, and That Blonde Chick With the Dragon Tattoo emerged, wearing only a skin-tone bathrobe with a picture of a dragon on it identical to her tattoo. She held a cigarette in one hand and a stack of money in the other. "Here you go, boss," she said, casually tossing the money into Nasuada's hands.

"Ah, thank you, Neya..." Nasuada said, quickly flicking through the money to count it. She looked up at Angela. "I hope you're not too disappointed?"

Angela forced a smile. "Oh, no. Not disappointed at all."

And then she f-ckin' murdered them.

Somehow pulling that weird spear thing she fights with out from behind her back--a huthvir or whatever it's called--she let out an almighty screech and lunged, her plate of waffles flying through the air as she stabbed Nasuada in the chest with one blade, pulling it out to stab the Elf Chick with the other before she even had time to respond. Then she went on a massive killing spree throughout the entire place, slaughtering all in her path until she stood alone among a pile of bodies and blood-soaked walls.

Solumbum sauntered up, blinking. "Wow, Ang--you managed to kill the entire main cast of the Inheritance Cycle except for you and me."

She shrugged, throwing her spear-thingy away. "Whatever. We're the only interesting characters anyway. Wanna go to Tijuana?"

"Let's!"

And so they did. But that's another story.

Now, leave reviews and check out my--

"Stop that!"

Eep. (Runs away.)

To any Spanish-speaking readers: do not flame me if there is some sort of grammar mistake in this chapter. If you wish to explain my error, cool, because I actually enjoy languages. But this whole thing is supposed to be funny, so I honestly didn't bother translating too closely. Note the untranslated "ditzy," for example.

And the idea of Mexican vampires comes from a joke on the TV show American Dad! Robot monkeys come from one of the most random and amusing episodes of South Park. And Lord Voldemort...well, I assume we all know that.