The ringing of the doorbell was an unwelcome, although all too familiar, interruption to my hitherto placid day.
When you're a world-famous supermodel and recognized authority on global economics, somebody's always at your door.
And even when you're somebody like me, it still seems like somebody's always at your door.
So I approached the door cautiously. You never know when 80sarcades is going to send an overgrown rooster with a bomb from the Acme Corporation.
I peeked through the security peephole and gasped.
There was someone tall, dark and handsome out there!
I threw caution to the winds and flung the door open. And then I gasped again.
"Sergeant Moffitt?" I stammered.
The tall, dark and handsome gentleman smiled a quirky, lopsided smile, and his intense hazel eyes gazed directly into mine. "Perhaps I should be asking you the same question," he said in that inimitable British voice of his.
I was covered with confusion. "Well, yes, that's my screen name. But I chose it in honor of you, honest! I totally respect you, sir!"
"Indeed." He strolled across the room and went immediately to the DVD player.
I panicked. Which DVD had I left in the player? I couldn't remember. Rat Patrol or Hogan's Heroes? RP or HH? The suspense was killing me.
He pressed the eject button and then held the DVD up and peered at it.
Uh-oh.
"You've been watching Hogan's Heroes, I see," said Moffitt, with a reproachful look at me.
I hung my head guiltily. "Yes, sir."
He placed the disc back in the player with great care. "That would explain it, then."
"Explain what?" I was even more confused.
"Madam, I regret to inform you that you have been summoned to Fanfic Court II, regarding the men of Stalag 13."
"What!" I was outraged. I'd heard that Fanfic Court was going to be in session again, but those kind of charges did not apply to me. "Impossible! I never abuse characters! Listen, I don't do angst. I believe in happy endings - just call me Pollyanna!"
Moffitt looked down on me and slowly shook his head. "I seem to remember you giving poor Tully a nasty case of gangrene."
"But he got better, thanks to you!"
Moffitt nodded thoughtfully. "True."
"And that was in a different fandom, anyway!"
"Also true." Moffitt pulled a folded paper from inside his uniform shirt. "But perhaps you should read the summons. I promise you, it will all become clear."
I took the paper from him with trembling fingers.
ATTENTION AUTHOR SGT, MOFFITT!
Your presence has been requested at the Fanfiction Courtroom on 1 July 2011, to be involved in: Men of Stalag 13 vs. The Authors. You may bring any evidence to which you feel will help clear your name. The charges against you are as follows:
1. Physical Harm to a Character
2. Mental Harm to a Character
3. Endangering the well-being of a Character
4. Encouraging other Authors
5. Miscellaneous Acts
I looked up at my hero and bristled with righteous indignation. "I'm innocent! They can't do this to me!"
He smiled that quirky smile again. "Can't they? Dear lady, you had better consider your position. I trust you will be able to find competent legal representation?"
And with that, he was gone.