Naughty, wicked Luggage!

            Okay, this is just a stupid bit of nonsense that won't leave my head unless I write [erm…more like type, actually] it down and get it out of there! Me brain's cluttered enough as it is… This is a testimony to the influence that British comedy has had on my life. Oh, and a cookie to whoever guesses the series of books that spawned this affrontment to good taste!

Omae o korosu, Luggage

        On a dark and stormy night, in a loony stretch of barren wasteland…well, to be honest, it really wasn't  particularly dark or stormy at the moment, nor was it even evening. In fact, it was actually a very sunny, rather cherry summer afternoon on a small, blue and white marble of a planet known, strangely enough, as Dirt or something. A young, rather intimidating man clad in tight black shorts and an extremely loose green tank top was walking down a hiking trail in a secluded forest somewhere. (Which, by the way, bore no resemblance whatsoever to the afore mentioned barren wasteland. Unless of course you happen to find a wasteland with lush greenery and scenic overlooks, but that would the defeat the whole purpose of having a wasteland now wouldn't it? I mean, you can't very well have a barren, desolate waste with all those trees and fuzzy woodland creatures running about! It just wouldn't be proper. Now, back in the good old days, the barren wastelands were quite well done with vast outcropping of rock, jagged crags, sand that rubbed your flesh right off, and loads of nasty beasties to go around. Not like those cheap knock-off ones you've got nowadays. Why, I can remember the time I was… URK!!! *Thump!* )

            We apologize for this pause in the programming to inform you that the narrator has…well, apparently his soul has just sucked out of him by this rather…erm, skeletal fellow in robes with a scythe.

 I DID HAVE AN APPOINTMENT WITH HIM TODAY.

            Yes, but couldn't you have waited until after this story was finished to take him! I mean, it's bloody rude to just waltz in here and off someone when they're right in the middle of a sentence!

 BUT IT IS MY JOB. I AM DEATH, SO I OFTEN HAVE TO DO THIS SORT OF THING. NOTHING PERSONAL. IT'S JUST THE FAMILY BUSINESS AFTERALL.

 Well, that's all fine and dandy, but how in the world do you expect us to finish without a narrator?!

COULDN'T YOU JUST FIND ANOTHER GUY? I'M SURE THERE ARE PLENTY OF NARRATORS OUT THERE THAT WOULD DO JUST AS WELL.

 'suppose you're right. Sorry about that outburst.

QUITE ALRIGHT. I OFTEN GET THAT SORT OF REACTION FROM PEOPLE. NOW, IF YOU'LL EXCUSE ME, I MUST BE OFF. SEEMS THAT MY NEPHEW HAS JUST RECEIEVED ORDERS TO DESTORY A BASE ON THE COAST.  With that, Death mounts his white horse and hurries off to watch the latest carnage wrought by the one known as Shinigami.

Unaware that anything odd has happened, the young man, who goes by the name Heero Yuy, continues on his way.  Now, it is about this time that Space and Time, being rather fickled things, just happened to choose then to twist themselves into amusingly funny shapes and accidentally rented a hole through the delicate fabric of  the multiverse. This wouldn't have been so bad if at that very moment, on some odd little disc of a world supported by four elephants riding through the universe on the back of an immense cosmic turtle, some inept failure of a wizard hadn't had the ill-fortune to be on fleeing a group of angry and very startled thieves who were being chased by a particularly homicidal trunk with hundreds of legs. Luckily for the thieves, the Luggage vanishes into one of those inter-dimensional tears and ends up hurtling through Space and Time only to land on a funny little blue-green marble of a world which had been ingloriously named something like Dirt or Mud.

Upon hearing the dull 'thud!' of something heavy quickly meeting the ground, Heero draws his gun out of his shorts (which, amazingly enough, seem to be capable of fully concealing a 9mm Beretta despite the fact that their skintight) and cautiously heads toward the noise. Wadding into the undergrowth, he scans the area for enemy soldiers.

Suddenly, the bushes rustle as a very large thing presses its way through them. It stops when it sees him, opening its lid slightly as if to snarl at him.

Heero continues to glare threateningly at the Luggage, completely unfazed by the fact that he was staring down an enchanted piece of baggage.

The Luggage, still rather upset about it's sudden trip and subsequent fall, returns the glare with more malice than should be expected from wooden panels and brass fixtures.

They remained lock in the DEATHGLARE © of all DEATHGLARES ©. The forest was silent, save for the occasional snapping of the Luggage as it paced menacingly around the young man. Time seemed to have slowed down to a crawl, eager to watch the stand-off. It wasn't everyday that two of the most dangerous beings in the know multiverse met face to…eh, plank.

 "Do you want to go first or do I get to?" Heero asks with monotone politeness.

The Luggage snapped its lid shut, indicating that Heero was to start the battle.

"Very well. Omae o korosu." He levels the gun at it and proceeds to empty a hail of bullets into the sapient pearwood. The Luggage stumbles backwards under the onslaught, valiantly trying to remain standing. Finally, its legs give out and it slumps to the ground. Heero smiles down at it in satisfaction. "I have killed one psychotic trunk." He slips the gun back into his shorts and turns toward the path. The crunch of feet of leaves catches his attention too late.

Taking advantage of a golden opportunity, the Luggage springs high into the air and hurtles toward him, tongue flapping and jaws open wide. With one might snap, it swallows the perfect soldier whole. The Luggage takes a minute to enjoy its victory, allowing itself what could pass for a satisfied grin, then heads off to find Rincewind. It doesn't go very far before it is seized by a sudden bout of nausea. A very green tinge appears over the Luggage and it promptly spits up a slightly dazed Heero. Luckily for him, all articles made from sapient pearwood suffer from an extreme aversion to all things spandex.. Thoroughly revolted by the idea it had actually tried to eat him, the Luggage sticks its tongue out at Heero and stomps off in disgust. Suddenly, it vanishes.

 Space and Time, with some help form cold Reality,  had untangled themselves and the Luggage promptly found itself hurtled back onto the Disc in time to save Rincewind's hide.

Meanwhile, on Dirt or whatever it's called, a young man stares up into the sky.

"We will meet again, Luggage."