A/N: This is the fifth and final installment of "Who Gets Kari?", which is, as I see it, a culmination of me reading all those scores of Takari cluttering the web, along with those few Daikari. I won't spoil it for you, but this is an ending that will really mess with your head. Make sure you read the whole thing. Blah blah blah...
*****
Davis and T.K. awaited the final verdict of their challenge in the dark void. They didn't have anything to do, and boredom was settling in.
T.K. looked at Davis. "You know, she IS going to choose me."
Davis glared back angrily. "Do we have to argue about this AGAIN?!"
"Well, there really isn't much else to do. Can you suggest something better?"
But he was stumped, because there actually WASN'T anything else to do.. "Ok, you're right... but do we need to argue?"
"That's true, we've been arguing way too much all this time. Say... why DID we start arguing in the first place, anyway?"
At that moment, Kharn, the trench-coated god, appeared in the void between T.K. and Davis. "All right... you guys want something to do? 'Cause I've got something that just might help you kill some time. Mhm, mhm." He waved a hand and two CD players materialized in front of each, with a pair of those headphones that cover your whole ear with each.
"Ooh!" Davis leapt at his own CD player and opened it... but it was empty. Same for T.K.'s.
"Umm, yeah, mmph, mmhm... I wasn't sure what kind of music you guys would want... here--" he took the large disc still on his belt, extended it, and gave it to the boys-- "you two can choose what you want."
The disc appeared to be a compact CD holder, capable of infinite storage. Davis found something he liked first, which was an anime soundtrack for "Shadow Skill". T.K. himself went for some U2.
They listened for a while, Kharn having formed his own player and having chosen something from Nirvana, and killed about an hour's time, when Kari herself appeared in the midst of them. She had apparently used some of Kharn's abilities to make herself look more beautiful than usual. In fact, not only were Davis and T.K. stunned, Kharn himself seemed surprised by her appearance.
She smiled for a second at their reactions, then went serious. She walked towards the group, T.K. on her left, Davis on her right, and Kharn in the middle. She stopped right in front of them.
First she turned and walked in front of T.K.. "Well, T.K., I've known you for a long time, and we're good friends... and you are pretty smart... but would you really like to ruin our friendship by this?"
Next she went to Davis. "You, on the other hand, Davis, are a lot more... um... emotive... than T.K.... and I have to say, while you may not be the smartest, you sure are cute whan you act dumb... But we don't really know each other well enough for anything."
And, surprisingly, she then turned to Kharn. "But YOU... YOU'VE got power, YOU'VE got a good heart, YOU look REAL good, and the list could go on..." She put a hand to his chest. "... but I've already made my choice.
"I'll go with Kharn."
"WHAT?!?" yelled the three guys at the same time. Then they all started talking, Kharn about how this was unacceptable, T.K. about how this wasn't fair, and Davis about how he was superior to Kharn in many ways...
She silenced the three of them with a raised hand. "Look, I've made a decision. Kharn, it's your decision."
He looked at Kari, trying to find some words. "Uh-- well-- s-sure, I g-guess... mhm..."
She smiled happily and jumped into Kharn's arms, who, still looking funny, dematerialized them all back to the real world.
*****
Davis and T.K. walked down a street. They didn't know what street it was, but as long as they kept busy by walking, they might be all right.
Both were devastated by Kari's choice. How could she? How could she choose some omnipotent being over one of two of her best friends?
Well, all right, that's obvious, but they hadn't thought Kari would be drawn to that...
And now all they could do was walk it off.
Davis looked up from his feet. It had been dark for a while now, and they should be home already, but... they just didn't feel like it. "Hey, T.K.... wanna drink? On me, I guess."
T.K. looked at the bar Davis was indicating. "Since when do we drink, man?"
"Hell, seems like a great time to start."
"No shit."
*****
The atmosphere inside the bar was still loud with talk and heavy with smoke although the barkeep was doing all those things barkeeps do when they think it's time to close, like turn some of the lights out, wind up the clock, put a cloth over the taps and, just in case, check the whereabouts of their baseball bat with the nails hammered in it.
Not that the customers were taking the slightest bit of notice, of course. To most of this bar's clientele even the nailed bat would have been considered a mere hint.
However, they were sufficiently observant to be vaguely worried by the tall dark figure standing byu the bar and drinking his way through its entire contents. He wore a large, black trenchcoat, with a large hood that hid his face.
Lonely, dedicated drinkers always generate a mental field which ensures complete privacy, but this particular one was radiating a kind of fatalistic gloom that was slowly emptying the bar.
This didn't worry the barman, because the lonely figure was engaged in a very expensive experiment.
Every drinking place throughout the multiverse has them -- those shelves of weirdly shaped, sticky bottles that not only contain exotically-named liquid, which is often blue or green, but also odds and ends that bottles of real drink would never stoop to contain, such as whole fruits, bits of twig and, in extreme cases, small drowned lizards.
No one knows why barmen stock so many, since they all taste like treacle dissolved in turpentine. It has been speculated that they dream of a day when someone will walk in off the street unbidden and ask for a glass of Peach Corniche with A Hint Of Mint and overnight the place will become somewhere To Be Seen At.
The stranger was working his way along the row.
"What's that green one?"
The barkeeper peered at the label.
"It says it's Melon Brandy," he said doubtfully. "It says it's bottled by some monks to an ancient recipe," he added.
"I'll try it. Mmhm, mhm."
The man looked sideways at the empty classes on the counter, some of them still containing bits of fruit salad, cherries on a stick and small paper umbrellas.
"Are you sure you haven't had enough?" he asked. It worried him vaguely that he couldn't seem to make out the stranger's face.
The glass, with its drink crystallising out on the sides, disappeared into the hood and came out again empty.
"No. What's the yellow one with the wasps in it?"
"Spring Cordial, it says. Yes?"
"Yes. And then the blue one with the gold flecks."
"Er. Old Overcoat?"
"Yes. Mhm, mhm. And then the second row."
"Which one did you have in mind?"
"All of them."
The stranger remained bolt upright, the glasses with their burdens of syrup and assorted vegetation disappearing into the hood on a production line basis.
It was at this time that Davis and T.K. walked into the bar. They pulled up seats beside the stranger and ordered anything the barman would give them. He gave them a strange eye, but he could tell that these two were in serious need of some alcohol, no matter their age.
They sat there for a few seconds, then realized who the person beside them must be. "Um..." T.K. asked, "Kharn, is that you?"
The figure didn't move and remained completely silent. But after a few seconds, a familiar voice said, "I never really told you my real name, mhm..."
"But why aren't you with Kari--" Davis tried to ask, but he got interrupted.
"I prefer to be called Evil InKharn8... it sounds cool, I'm not actually evil... mhm... Then there's DJ. KOSTeX... and, because I had to fill in for him once, some people know me as Death..."
Davis and T.K. looked at each other, but said nothing, just resumed drinking, along with "Kharn".
"I don't see the point," he said, looking critically at his present glass.
"Sorry?"
"What's supposed to happen, mmph, mmhm?"
"How many drinks have you had?"
"Forty-seven."
"Just about anything, then," said the barman and, because he knew his job and knew what was expected of him when people drank more or less alone in the small hours, he started to polish a glass with the slops cloth and said, "Your lady thrown you out, has she?"
"Pardon?"
"Drowning your sorrows, are you?"
"I have no sorrows. Mhm."
"No, of course not. Forget I mentioned it." He gave the glass a few more wipes. "Just thought it helps to have someone to talk to," he said.
Kharn was silent for another moment, thinking. Then he said: "You want to talk to me?"
"Yes. Sure. I'm a good listener."
T.K. chipped in. "I wouldn't mind listening to you either."
"No one ever wanted to talk to me before. Mmhm, mhm."
"That's a shame."
"They never invite me to parties, you know."
Davis made a 'tch' sound.
"They all hate me. Everyone hates me, mhm, mhm. I don't have a single friend."
"Everyone ought to have a friend," said the barman sagely.
"I think--"
"Yes?"
"I think... I think I could be friends with the green bottle. Mhm."
The barman slid the octagon-bottle along the counter. Kharn took it and tilted it over the glass. The liquid tinkled over the rim.
"You drunk I'm think, don't you?"
"I serve anyone who can stand upright best out of three," said the barman.
"Yourrre absorootly right. But I--"
He paused, one declamatory finger in the air.
"Mhm... Was what I saying?"
"You said he thought you were drunk," said Davis.
"Ah. Yes, BUT I can be shober any time I like. This ish an experiment. And now I would likes to experiment with the orange brandy again, mhm, mhm."
The barman sighed, and glanced at the clock. There was no doubt that he was making a lot of money, especially since Kharn didn't seem inclined to worry about overcharging or shortchange. He might even let the two kids off without paying. But it was getting late; in fact it was getting so late that it was getting early. There was also something about this stranger that unsettled him. People in this bar often drank as though there was no tomorrow, but this was the first time he'd actually felt they might be right.
"I mean, what have I got to look forward to? Mmph, mmhm. Where's the sense in it all? What is it really all about?"
"Can't say, my friend. I expect you'll feel better after a good night's sleep."
"Sleep? Sleep? I never sleep. I'm wossname, proverbial for it."
"Everyone needs their sleep. Even me," he hinted.
"They all hate me, you know, mhm, mhm."
"Yes, you said. But it's a quarter to three."
Kharn turned unsteadily and looked around the silent room.
"There's no one in the place but you and you and you and me," he said.
The barman lifted the flap and came around the bar, helping the three down from their stools.
"I haven't got a single friend, mhm. Even cats find me amusing."
A hand shot out and grabbed a bottle of Amanita Liquor before the man managed to propel its owner to the door.
"I don't have to be drunk, I said. Mmhm, mhm. Why do people like to be drunk? Is it fun?"
"Helps them forget about life. Now just you lean there while I get the door open--"
"Forget about life. Ha. Ha. Mhm."
"You come back any time you like, all right?"
"You'd really like to see me again?"
The barman looked back at the small heap of coins on the bar. That was worth a little weirdness. At least this one was a quiet one, and seemed to be harmless.
"Oh, yes," he said, propelling the three into the street and retrieving the bottle in one smooth movement. "Drop in anytime."
"That's the nicehest thing--"
The door slammed on the rest of the sentence.
*****
The three ended up sitting on a park bench at the edge of a park, looking out at the night.
"Y'see, the city isa, isa, isa wossname. Thing," said Kharn.
"Woman?" Davis filled in.
"Thass what it is. Woman. Roaring, ancient, centuries old. Strings you along, lets you fall in thingy, love, with her, then kicks you inna, inna, thingy. Thingy, in your mouth."
"Tongue," said T.K.
"Tonsils," added Davis.
"Teeth. That's what it, she, does. She isa... thing, you know, lady dog. Puppy. Hen. Bitch. And then you hate her and, and just when you think you got her, it, out of your, your, whatever, then she opens her great booming rotten heart to you, catches you off bal, bal, bal, thing. Ance. Yeah. Thassit."
"Whassis got to do with a city?" asked T.K. drowsily.
"Dunno, but seems right."
"You know," said Davis with a goofy smile, "you haven't gone 'mhm' inna while... why d'you keep doin' that anyway?"
Kharn frowned. "Oh, great. Thanks. Now I'm knurd."
"Wha?"
He closed his eyes. "Whenever I talk about that, I go into some strange reversal of being drunk."
"So, why DID Kari kick you out?" aasked T.K., totally offhand.
Kharn's eyes went really wide. "Argh! You're making it worse!"
He began to dissipate, and in moments T.K. and Davis were alone on the bench, watching the sun rise all of a sudden.
"Well... that sure was strange..." mumbled Davis.
Then, in the distance, they heard someone calling their names. Someone familiar, someone like--
"Kari?!" they both exclaimed, now also completely sober.
She ran up to them, leaned on the bench for a second to catch her breath, and spoke. "I've been looking for you two all night! Where did you go?"
T.K. and Davis looked at each other. If Kari wasn't with Kharn anymore, the knowledge of them drinking might push her away from them too... "We were just walking around."
"All night?!" she practically yelled. Then she calmed herself. "But it doesn't matter. I found out that that bastard Kharn was a real ass-hole, so I dumped him, and I was looking for you guys to tell you who I've chosen between you two."
Between the redundancy and cursing in her talk, both Davis and T.K. were lost.
But Kari saw this, and fixed it easily... by kissing Davis. It dragged on a few seconds... then a minute... more minutes...
T.K. was more disgusted than disappointed.
Well, almost, considering how badly he took a second rejection... But that story-- if you could call it that-- is for another day. Preferably when none of us are alive to tell it or listen to it. So HA!
THE END... !?":{]21308957
*****
Well, that's all, folks. I'ts over. Thanks go to all the people who reviewed me, my friend Ben for letting me use his computer to post this whole thing, my sister for the knowledge of Digimon (she practically did that whole Ch. 3). And of course, I couldn't forget Jeff. His unbridled hate for Digimon drove me to write something that would utterly torment him.
Jeff, rot in hell. But don't leave, because I'll be joining you shortly.
Digimon does NOT belong to me, nor do its characters or terms/terminology. The whole bar scene is a bit taken from Terry Pratchett's Discworld, so I have to mention him. None of those CDs are made by me, they belong to whoever made them. My two god-like beings ARE mine, however, so I'll be forced to kick your ass if you use them. There's probably more, but my fingers are getting cramped, and I only have that much tea left.
*****
You Have Just Been Presented
"Who Gets Kari?"
An EIK8 Production
*****
Until next time, KILL THEM!!! KILL THEM ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*****
Davis and T.K. awaited the final verdict of their challenge in the dark void. They didn't have anything to do, and boredom was settling in.
T.K. looked at Davis. "You know, she IS going to choose me."
Davis glared back angrily. "Do we have to argue about this AGAIN?!"
"Well, there really isn't much else to do. Can you suggest something better?"
But he was stumped, because there actually WASN'T anything else to do.. "Ok, you're right... but do we need to argue?"
"That's true, we've been arguing way too much all this time. Say... why DID we start arguing in the first place, anyway?"
At that moment, Kharn, the trench-coated god, appeared in the void between T.K. and Davis. "All right... you guys want something to do? 'Cause I've got something that just might help you kill some time. Mhm, mhm." He waved a hand and two CD players materialized in front of each, with a pair of those headphones that cover your whole ear with each.
"Ooh!" Davis leapt at his own CD player and opened it... but it was empty. Same for T.K.'s.
"Umm, yeah, mmph, mmhm... I wasn't sure what kind of music you guys would want... here--" he took the large disc still on his belt, extended it, and gave it to the boys-- "you two can choose what you want."
The disc appeared to be a compact CD holder, capable of infinite storage. Davis found something he liked first, which was an anime soundtrack for "Shadow Skill". T.K. himself went for some U2.
They listened for a while, Kharn having formed his own player and having chosen something from Nirvana, and killed about an hour's time, when Kari herself appeared in the midst of them. She had apparently used some of Kharn's abilities to make herself look more beautiful than usual. In fact, not only were Davis and T.K. stunned, Kharn himself seemed surprised by her appearance.
She smiled for a second at their reactions, then went serious. She walked towards the group, T.K. on her left, Davis on her right, and Kharn in the middle. She stopped right in front of them.
First she turned and walked in front of T.K.. "Well, T.K., I've known you for a long time, and we're good friends... and you are pretty smart... but would you really like to ruin our friendship by this?"
Next she went to Davis. "You, on the other hand, Davis, are a lot more... um... emotive... than T.K.... and I have to say, while you may not be the smartest, you sure are cute whan you act dumb... But we don't really know each other well enough for anything."
And, surprisingly, she then turned to Kharn. "But YOU... YOU'VE got power, YOU'VE got a good heart, YOU look REAL good, and the list could go on..." She put a hand to his chest. "... but I've already made my choice.
"I'll go with Kharn."
"WHAT?!?" yelled the three guys at the same time. Then they all started talking, Kharn about how this was unacceptable, T.K. about how this wasn't fair, and Davis about how he was superior to Kharn in many ways...
She silenced the three of them with a raised hand. "Look, I've made a decision. Kharn, it's your decision."
He looked at Kari, trying to find some words. "Uh-- well-- s-sure, I g-guess... mhm..."
She smiled happily and jumped into Kharn's arms, who, still looking funny, dematerialized them all back to the real world.
*****
Davis and T.K. walked down a street. They didn't know what street it was, but as long as they kept busy by walking, they might be all right.
Both were devastated by Kari's choice. How could she? How could she choose some omnipotent being over one of two of her best friends?
Well, all right, that's obvious, but they hadn't thought Kari would be drawn to that...
And now all they could do was walk it off.
Davis looked up from his feet. It had been dark for a while now, and they should be home already, but... they just didn't feel like it. "Hey, T.K.... wanna drink? On me, I guess."
T.K. looked at the bar Davis was indicating. "Since when do we drink, man?"
"Hell, seems like a great time to start."
"No shit."
*****
The atmosphere inside the bar was still loud with talk and heavy with smoke although the barkeep was doing all those things barkeeps do when they think it's time to close, like turn some of the lights out, wind up the clock, put a cloth over the taps and, just in case, check the whereabouts of their baseball bat with the nails hammered in it.
Not that the customers were taking the slightest bit of notice, of course. To most of this bar's clientele even the nailed bat would have been considered a mere hint.
However, they were sufficiently observant to be vaguely worried by the tall dark figure standing byu the bar and drinking his way through its entire contents. He wore a large, black trenchcoat, with a large hood that hid his face.
Lonely, dedicated drinkers always generate a mental field which ensures complete privacy, but this particular one was radiating a kind of fatalistic gloom that was slowly emptying the bar.
This didn't worry the barman, because the lonely figure was engaged in a very expensive experiment.
Every drinking place throughout the multiverse has them -- those shelves of weirdly shaped, sticky bottles that not only contain exotically-named liquid, which is often blue or green, but also odds and ends that bottles of real drink would never stoop to contain, such as whole fruits, bits of twig and, in extreme cases, small drowned lizards.
No one knows why barmen stock so many, since they all taste like treacle dissolved in turpentine. It has been speculated that they dream of a day when someone will walk in off the street unbidden and ask for a glass of Peach Corniche with A Hint Of Mint and overnight the place will become somewhere To Be Seen At.
The stranger was working his way along the row.
"What's that green one?"
The barkeeper peered at the label.
"It says it's Melon Brandy," he said doubtfully. "It says it's bottled by some monks to an ancient recipe," he added.
"I'll try it. Mmhm, mhm."
The man looked sideways at the empty classes on the counter, some of them still containing bits of fruit salad, cherries on a stick and small paper umbrellas.
"Are you sure you haven't had enough?" he asked. It worried him vaguely that he couldn't seem to make out the stranger's face.
The glass, with its drink crystallising out on the sides, disappeared into the hood and came out again empty.
"No. What's the yellow one with the wasps in it?"
"Spring Cordial, it says. Yes?"
"Yes. And then the blue one with the gold flecks."
"Er. Old Overcoat?"
"Yes. Mhm, mhm. And then the second row."
"Which one did you have in mind?"
"All of them."
The stranger remained bolt upright, the glasses with their burdens of syrup and assorted vegetation disappearing into the hood on a production line basis.
It was at this time that Davis and T.K. walked into the bar. They pulled up seats beside the stranger and ordered anything the barman would give them. He gave them a strange eye, but he could tell that these two were in serious need of some alcohol, no matter their age.
They sat there for a few seconds, then realized who the person beside them must be. "Um..." T.K. asked, "Kharn, is that you?"
The figure didn't move and remained completely silent. But after a few seconds, a familiar voice said, "I never really told you my real name, mhm..."
"But why aren't you with Kari--" Davis tried to ask, but he got interrupted.
"I prefer to be called Evil InKharn8... it sounds cool, I'm not actually evil... mhm... Then there's DJ. KOSTeX... and, because I had to fill in for him once, some people know me as Death..."
Davis and T.K. looked at each other, but said nothing, just resumed drinking, along with "Kharn".
"I don't see the point," he said, looking critically at his present glass.
"Sorry?"
"What's supposed to happen, mmph, mmhm?"
"How many drinks have you had?"
"Forty-seven."
"Just about anything, then," said the barman and, because he knew his job and knew what was expected of him when people drank more or less alone in the small hours, he started to polish a glass with the slops cloth and said, "Your lady thrown you out, has she?"
"Pardon?"
"Drowning your sorrows, are you?"
"I have no sorrows. Mhm."
"No, of course not. Forget I mentioned it." He gave the glass a few more wipes. "Just thought it helps to have someone to talk to," he said.
Kharn was silent for another moment, thinking. Then he said: "You want to talk to me?"
"Yes. Sure. I'm a good listener."
T.K. chipped in. "I wouldn't mind listening to you either."
"No one ever wanted to talk to me before. Mmhm, mhm."
"That's a shame."
"They never invite me to parties, you know."
Davis made a 'tch' sound.
"They all hate me. Everyone hates me, mhm, mhm. I don't have a single friend."
"Everyone ought to have a friend," said the barman sagely.
"I think--"
"Yes?"
"I think... I think I could be friends with the green bottle. Mhm."
The barman slid the octagon-bottle along the counter. Kharn took it and tilted it over the glass. The liquid tinkled over the rim.
"You drunk I'm think, don't you?"
"I serve anyone who can stand upright best out of three," said the barman.
"Yourrre absorootly right. But I--"
He paused, one declamatory finger in the air.
"Mhm... Was what I saying?"
"You said he thought you were drunk," said Davis.
"Ah. Yes, BUT I can be shober any time I like. This ish an experiment. And now I would likes to experiment with the orange brandy again, mhm, mhm."
The barman sighed, and glanced at the clock. There was no doubt that he was making a lot of money, especially since Kharn didn't seem inclined to worry about overcharging or shortchange. He might even let the two kids off without paying. But it was getting late; in fact it was getting so late that it was getting early. There was also something about this stranger that unsettled him. People in this bar often drank as though there was no tomorrow, but this was the first time he'd actually felt they might be right.
"I mean, what have I got to look forward to? Mmph, mmhm. Where's the sense in it all? What is it really all about?"
"Can't say, my friend. I expect you'll feel better after a good night's sleep."
"Sleep? Sleep? I never sleep. I'm wossname, proverbial for it."
"Everyone needs their sleep. Even me," he hinted.
"They all hate me, you know, mhm, mhm."
"Yes, you said. But it's a quarter to three."
Kharn turned unsteadily and looked around the silent room.
"There's no one in the place but you and you and you and me," he said.
The barman lifted the flap and came around the bar, helping the three down from their stools.
"I haven't got a single friend, mhm. Even cats find me amusing."
A hand shot out and grabbed a bottle of Amanita Liquor before the man managed to propel its owner to the door.
"I don't have to be drunk, I said. Mmhm, mhm. Why do people like to be drunk? Is it fun?"
"Helps them forget about life. Now just you lean there while I get the door open--"
"Forget about life. Ha. Ha. Mhm."
"You come back any time you like, all right?"
"You'd really like to see me again?"
The barman looked back at the small heap of coins on the bar. That was worth a little weirdness. At least this one was a quiet one, and seemed to be harmless.
"Oh, yes," he said, propelling the three into the street and retrieving the bottle in one smooth movement. "Drop in anytime."
"That's the nicehest thing--"
The door slammed on the rest of the sentence.
*****
The three ended up sitting on a park bench at the edge of a park, looking out at the night.
"Y'see, the city isa, isa, isa wossname. Thing," said Kharn.
"Woman?" Davis filled in.
"Thass what it is. Woman. Roaring, ancient, centuries old. Strings you along, lets you fall in thingy, love, with her, then kicks you inna, inna, thingy. Thingy, in your mouth."
"Tongue," said T.K.
"Tonsils," added Davis.
"Teeth. That's what it, she, does. She isa... thing, you know, lady dog. Puppy. Hen. Bitch. And then you hate her and, and just when you think you got her, it, out of your, your, whatever, then she opens her great booming rotten heart to you, catches you off bal, bal, bal, thing. Ance. Yeah. Thassit."
"Whassis got to do with a city?" asked T.K. drowsily.
"Dunno, but seems right."
"You know," said Davis with a goofy smile, "you haven't gone 'mhm' inna while... why d'you keep doin' that anyway?"
Kharn frowned. "Oh, great. Thanks. Now I'm knurd."
"Wha?"
He closed his eyes. "Whenever I talk about that, I go into some strange reversal of being drunk."
"So, why DID Kari kick you out?" aasked T.K., totally offhand.
Kharn's eyes went really wide. "Argh! You're making it worse!"
He began to dissipate, and in moments T.K. and Davis were alone on the bench, watching the sun rise all of a sudden.
"Well... that sure was strange..." mumbled Davis.
Then, in the distance, they heard someone calling their names. Someone familiar, someone like--
"Kari?!" they both exclaimed, now also completely sober.
She ran up to them, leaned on the bench for a second to catch her breath, and spoke. "I've been looking for you two all night! Where did you go?"
T.K. and Davis looked at each other. If Kari wasn't with Kharn anymore, the knowledge of them drinking might push her away from them too... "We were just walking around."
"All night?!" she practically yelled. Then she calmed herself. "But it doesn't matter. I found out that that bastard Kharn was a real ass-hole, so I dumped him, and I was looking for you guys to tell you who I've chosen between you two."
Between the redundancy and cursing in her talk, both Davis and T.K. were lost.
But Kari saw this, and fixed it easily... by kissing Davis. It dragged on a few seconds... then a minute... more minutes...
T.K. was more disgusted than disappointed.
Well, almost, considering how badly he took a second rejection... But that story-- if you could call it that-- is for another day. Preferably when none of us are alive to tell it or listen to it. So HA!
THE END... !?":{]21308957
*****
Well, that's all, folks. I'ts over. Thanks go to all the people who reviewed me, my friend Ben for letting me use his computer to post this whole thing, my sister for the knowledge of Digimon (she practically did that whole Ch. 3). And of course, I couldn't forget Jeff. His unbridled hate for Digimon drove me to write something that would utterly torment him.
Jeff, rot in hell. But don't leave, because I'll be joining you shortly.
Digimon does NOT belong to me, nor do its characters or terms/terminology. The whole bar scene is a bit taken from Terry Pratchett's Discworld, so I have to mention him. None of those CDs are made by me, they belong to whoever made them. My two god-like beings ARE mine, however, so I'll be forced to kick your ass if you use them. There's probably more, but my fingers are getting cramped, and I only have that much tea left.
*****
You Have Just Been Presented
"Who Gets Kari?"
An EIK8 Production
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Until next time, KILL THEM!!! KILL THEM ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
