Free Companies Inc. Presents:

Writer's Block Strikes Again!

The fic with a lot of unnecessary exclamation points

by Keza: Queen of Procrastination

AN: Insanely tall glass of soda… Check. 'Avalon' webcomic in a different window (a healthy distraction!)… Check. The Dandy Worhals on Kazaa… Check. Plaid, flannel pants… Check.

Ok. I'm ready.

20 minutes, half a glass of soda and three weeks of Avalon comics later… Ok. I'm ready.

+

Some nights, falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow is a bad thing. This was one of those nights.

I heard a small commotion to the right of my bed and squeezed my eyes shut tighter.

"I hope by da time I open me eyes, you'se gone," I muttered. About five minutes later I opened my eyes. Keza and Falco were sitting cross legged on the floor next to my bunk, huge grins plastered on their faces. Once Keza noticed I was looking, the grin dropped off.

"Ow. Grinning like an idiot for five minutes does bad things to the jaw."

Falco elbowed her companion sharply. I think the grin was stuck on her face. Suddenly my mattress lurched, and promptly tipped me off and onto the floor. I groaned, and a giddy voice spoke up from the other side of my bunk.

"COOL! I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO DO THAT!"

"Delia!" Keza screeched. "What the f-"

I groaned again.

"Are you doing here?"

"Uh… Ha… Haha… Good question!" said girl, a.k.a. Delia, ran off and pounded down the stairs. Keza helped me fix my mattress.

"Sorry," she apologized. "Delia and I just watched Mighty Ducks 3, and Bombay does that to Charlie. I'm not sure how she got in your dream though." She shrugged. "Anyway, back to business."

(AN: Well, hey! I watched D3 earlier today and we were commenting on how fun it would be to flip someone. I couldn't resist. Mike Vitar. Hehe… I mean… Right-o! Story!)

"You're doing well," Keza continued. "Gotten a lot done. But there's still a lot of turf to cover, like Que-"

"LIKE BROOKLYN!" Falco cried, jumping up and nearly knocking her friend over.

"Um, yeah, Brooklyn too. Brooklyn's gonna be a toughie. A lot of authors make their homes there."

Then Falco snapped.

"Spot! Spot! Spot! Spot!" she squealed, jumping in a circle around Keza, who looked sick.

"What I was going to say was that you might want to save Brooklyn for last!" she shouted over the noise.

"Spot! Spot! Spot! Spot!"

"And do Queens today!" she added. Falco heard this last part and spun to face her, glaring daggers.

"What."

"Uhm… And who are deans to pay?"

"Oh."

Pause.

"Spot! Spot! Spot! Spot!"

Keza rubbed at her temples.

"Will someone do something for her? Like bash her on the head?"

"Already done," a quiet voice said. Falco slumped to the floor and Keza turned to see Pie-eater, speaking softly and carrying a big stick.

"Oh boy!" she exclaimed. "See ya later, Racey-boy," she called over her shoulder as she walked out with Pie. I shook my head wearily, dragged Falco's prone form away from my bunk, and fell back asleep… Or… Whatever you do in dreams.

+

AN: IT'S MY STORY I CAN DO WHAT I WANT!

+

"She said Queens," I explained. "So we'se goin' ta Queens."

"Aw, great, listen ta a crazy person," Blink grumbled. I think he was just sore that he hadn't witnessed Falco jumping around and screaming "Spot!" Funny, you'd think he'd be grateful.

We hadn't been wandering for a very long time before we made the mistake of turning onto a new street and trekking down a fairly steep hill. Hills are dangerous. Very dangerous.

"WHEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEEEE!"

That didn't sound good.

Blink and I turned simultaneously, just in time to see a wheelchair bound girl with insanely long hair come flying down the hill, out of control. I had enough time for a tired sigh before the impact came.

I picked myself up painfully and moved to help Blink right the girl and her wheelchair - she seemed fine, just dazed. And giddy.

"What're ya doin'?" she demanded, furiously trying to continue on her rampage. "Don't hold me back!" she smacked Blink's hand, who let go with a yelp, then started wheeling away.

"Wait!" I said while Blink sucked glumly on his knuckles. She stopped.

"As much as I'd love ta chat wid you boys, my Shrine is in dangah. I lose da Shrine, I lose me muses. I lose me muses, POOF da writin' is gone!" he voice bordered between seriousness and plain sarcasm.

"Uh, writin'?" I must admit my comeback was quite witty.

"Yes!"

"So you'se a writah?"

"No, I'se a peppahmint stick."

"Hey! I'm jus tryin' ta help! Tell me about dis Shrine?"

"Fine," she grumbled. "I'll tell ya as we move."

I waved for Blink to follow, and the journey began.

"Fiction Hobbit, and if dat's too unwieldy, you can call me Midget."

Blink snorted behind us.

"Watch it, Kid. Anyway, the Shrine." She paused, searching for the right words. "It's kinda hard ta explain it ta newsies… But… Hell. It's a Shrine dedicated ta yous."

"Me?" I remembered Bookie and Breeze, and prayed she wasn't another obsessee like them.

"Sometimes. I love my newsies. But I could nevah decide which one I loved moah."

"Kinda like Polecat."

She smirked. "Yeah, you'se right. I change favorite newsies like I change undahwear. At da moment it's Skittery. Been him for awhile, actually." She paused thoughtfully. "Hmm… I should probably change my-"

"Ok then!" I interrupted. "So you have a shrine dedicated to Skittery. I've seen worse."

"Have you?"

"Ok, maybe not. But anyway. Ya lost the Shrine?"

"Are you kiddin'?! I'd nevah lose it! It was stolen from me! Dirtah bastards," she added.

"Who stole it?"

"Dunno," she sighed. "I jus' woke up the oddah day, wid no shrine ta light up me apartment! I'se been lookin' for da thief evah since."

"I guess Writah's Block really comes in many forms," I remarked thoughtfully.

"I don't have Writah's Block!" Pause. "Wait, you'se have a point. Nevahmind."

"At least dis one has a simple cure," Blink cut in. "Find da Shrine. Boom. Done."

"But we don't know who snitched it."

"Ohhhh yeah. I knew der was a catch!"

Tromping around the streets for a few hours, began to get tiresome. I was about to speak up when Blink saved me the trouble.

"Listen, Midget… Hobbit… Lady! We don't seem ta be helpin' you too much. Maybe we should, ah… Try an' find some oddah authors while you continue yer search?" his voice had a plead hidden in there.

"Yeah, shoah, abandon me why dontcha."

We both shifted awkwardly.

"I'm kiddin'! Git! Do help someone else! Don't come back 'til you have my Shrine!" she said, stopping for a moment to slap us away. We obliged readily.

"Jeez, you'd think they'd get the hint ta leave aftah wheelin' in circles for da whole mornin,'" Fiction Hobbit muttered. Still she smiled at the boy's retreating backs before resuming her search.

+

"Johonna! Listen to meee! I'm tryin' ta explain this!"

"I'se not gonna listen until you'se get me name right! It's Jo-anna. Not 'Jo-hannah!'"

"Right. Dat's what I've been sayin'! Ok, Jo-hannah, so, then the giant-"

Johanna sighed and buried her face in her hands.

"Jus' call me Honor, ok?"

"Ok, if I call you Honner, will ya listen ta my plot idea?"

"AHHH!"

"Hey, she said plot idea."

"Anuddah author."

"Should we run now?"

"Too late, dey already saw us."

"Hey! It's Racey!" the first, a small girl with shoulder-length brown hair, left her conversation and skipped over to us. The other - Johanna/Honor - rolled her eyes and came to join us as well.

"Blizzard!" the first girl chirped, sticking out her hand. I exchanged glances with Blink, then shook it.

"Honor," the other said. "On. Or," she added. Hah. Like we needed help with the pronunciation!

"We couldn't 'elp but overhear part of ya conversation," Blink said casually.

"The part about you'se bein' authors n' all," I added.

"Yeah, we'se authors," Blizzard agreed. "An' if she'd only lissen to my idea, I may actually get somethin' written dis year!" she glared at Honor, who shrugged.

"I 'ave a hard time listenin', ok??" There was a short silence then, which Blizzard filled by showing us all origami tricks she could do with the hankerchief she carried. I was quite impressed.

Further talking to the girls revealed much - both were Writer's Block victims, yes, they had had it for a few days now. Blizzard claimed that no one would listen to her ideas, while Honor said she had lost her recent project and there was NO way she was going to re-write it.

"I see whatcha mean, Honner-"

"On-or."

"Yeah, yeah. We ran inta Midget a little while ago. She lost 'er Shrine, or somethin' like dat."

"Oohh," Blizzard's eyes widened. "Her Shrine? Man. Dat's 'orrible!"

"Dat's the impression we got," Blink agreed.

"Gee, I'se glad my problem iddn't dat big," Blizzard said. "I jus need ta find someone ta lissen ta my ideas." She paused and looked straight at me. I pretended to be busy lighting a new cigar.

"Someone to lissen… Maybe someone my own height… Mebbe a boy, even…" That's funny, this cigar just won't light! Does Blink have some matches? Nope, none on him. I don't think I can avoid this author's gaze much longer. Honor saved me.

"Look! Here comes Snipeshooter!" she exclaimed. Sure enough, everyone's favorite… Ok, everyone but me… Ok, here came the short curly haired kid! Oh. Snipeshooter was short. So was Blizzard.

"He's the one!" I shouted, grabbing Snipes by the collar and dragging him (kicking and screaming) to join us. "Snipes, you'se done sellin'? Oh good. Cause my friend Blizzard heah has somethin' ta tell you'se…" Blizzard looked hurt, but decided Snipeshooter was a good substitute for my humble self. She smiled dazzlingly at him and gave him a crate to sit on.

"Ok. So. Then Jacky sells 'is cow right? But only fer some beans…"

"Race?" Snipeshooter looked at me, pleading.

"Listen ta the goil talk!" I snapped, winked at Blizzard, and moved out of earshot to join Blink and Honor.

"Ok, so dat leaves you, Honner."

"On-or."

"Right. What're we gonna do about you?"

"Beats me."

"Why can't ya jus' re-write the frikkin' story?" Blink asked. He gets a little cranky when he doesn't have his afternoon nap. Whoops.

"Do you know how frustr'atin' dat would be?"

"It wouldn't be too bad," I said, although I had no idea what I was talking about.

"Yeah," Blink added eagerly. "I bet you could get it done by tomorrow."

"Is dat a dare?" she looked interested now. Blink and I exchanged a glance.

"You bet yer arse it is!" I said. Honor's eyes sparkled micheviously.

"I can't pass up a dare," she admitted. "So I'll take it up! Tamarrah! It'll be done. I'll see you boys den."

"Shoah, shoah. We'll be in Manhattan. Or Brooklyn. Or somewhere," I told her. She nodded and skipped off to join Snipeshooter, who was half asleep already. Poor kid.

+

"It's like this, Cat. I mean Snitch. Oh, hey Race," a blonde haired girl muttered. We had stopped at a Queens tavern after seeing Snitch enter. We hadn't counted on him following a girl. And now we were trapped with another drunk author. Life is grand, isn't it? And Snitch just kept buying her drinks, too. I guess he thought it was amusing.

"This is Cards," he told us. "She told me she was havin' a rough day, so I thought I'd cheer her up a bit."

"Oh, she's cheery alright," I muttered. Cards had downed another mug and was chatting amicably away with a scary looking, most likely homeless, man.

"What can I say? The goil gets drunk easily," Snitch chuckled. "Oh, hey, you'se shouldah seen the t'ing I snatched today!" he added, leaning closer so not to be overheard. He sounded pretty excited. "It's dis big fancy thing, covered with stuff and pitchas and such… All of Skittery! Damn, he's gonna flip!" Snitch cackled. I raised an eyebrow and looked at Blink. Nope, he was too busy talking to Cards about popular methods of torture.

"Um. Snitch… You'se tellin' me you snitched a Shrine?"

"Yeeeah DAT'S the woid I was lookin' fer! It must be a Shrine."

I buried my face in my hands. Cards moved over.

"Heya Racey, you'se lookin' like you'se needin' a drink. Bartendah! Get 'em… a… drink." She slurred, then promptly fell out of her chair.

"Haven't I told you'se ta stop givin' authors drinks?"

"Nope."

"Oh. Well, nevah give authors drinks!"

"Well, hey!" Snitch put up his hands in defense. "How was I 'posed ta know she was an author?"

"Didn't she tell you?"

"Good point," Snitch admitted, then lost himself in his own mug again.

"Dis goil should be already cured, right?" Blink asked after successfully picking Cards up and setting her on the bar. "I mean, with da alcohol."

"I guess," I said doubtfully - it didn't seem to be working yet… She just looked horribly drunk, not 'cured.'

Unfortunately, we hadn't enough sense to keep Cards in our sight at all times. She had wandered off and was now standing on the bar. People were staring.

"Scuse me, ladie's n' gents!" she announced, swaying slightly. "I'd like ta sing a lil… Ditty for you'se tanight. And it's dedicated ta me best pal… Snitch!" she grinned wildly and pointed in the direction exactly opposite of Snitch. "Whoops… Snitch!" this time she got it right, and Snitch turned a bright red. I coughed on some cigar smoke and motioned for Blink to get Cards down, somehow. Too late, she was already singing. Her voice cracked horribly on most of the notes, and I'll admit that it was pretty damn hilarious.

"You… Are… So beautiful.. To meeeeeeeeee! CAN'T YOU SEEEEE?!" Snitch cowered and slumped down in his chair.

"I… Ah! I didn't know dis would 'appen! Someone make 'er stop!" he hissed at us.

"We warned you," Blink stated indifferently.

"What? No you'se didn't!"

"He has a point," I told Blink. "I didn't remind him until too late."

"OooooOOOooOOooooOoooo!"

"Boys?"

"Quiet Snitchers, I'm thinkin'. Ok. I'se got it."

"Well 'urry up an' tell me!"

"I LOVE YOU SNITCH!"

"We'll stop 'er if you give us dat Shrine."

Snitch looked puzzled.

"What would you want with dat?"

"Da person you stole it from is a, um, friend of ours," Blink told him. "She misses it sorely."

"Ohh… Well… Shoah, shoah," Snitch crawled under the table and then emerged with a heavy box. "Don' open it," he cautioned. "It scars for life."

"Uhm. Thanks," I said doubtfully, shaking the box. Meanwhile Blink was up on the bar, desperately trying to calm a delirious Cards.

"Come on," she was saying. "One moah song fer me boy?"

"No, get down," Blink's voice was noticeably more calm and quiet than the other's. Still, the end result was Blink, Snitch, and I working together to carry her out of the tavern. Some guy gave her a tip on the way out. Drunk bastard. Snitch pocketed the dime and winked.

"She has her advantages."

"Sluggin' you is onna dem," Cards grumbled before passing out cold.

"Uhm."

We laid her on a nearby bench and stood around silently.

"Well!" I said brightly, picking up the Shrine-in-a-box. "We haftah return dis! Have fun wid Cards. Her Writah's Block should be gone in da morning. It will be replaced with a lovely hangovah."

Blink tipped his hat and off we ran.

+

"WE FOUND IT!" Blink screeched, running ahead to catch up to Fiction Hobbit. She stopped and turned.

"Oh? Splendid!"

I picked up the pace and sprinted up to deliver the all-important box of goods. Unfortunately, I didn't see the missing cobblestone, tripped over it, and promptly fell, dropping the box/shrine as I went. Damn. Fiction Hobbit and Blink gaped at the mess around where I had fallen - the box had opened and spilled its contents everywhere.

"I may have to kill you," Fiction Hobbit said, sounding calm. Frighteningly calm.

"Too late," I groaned, facedown on the stones. "I think I broke my nose. An' my front teeth. An' my… head… ow."

"Kick 'em in the crotch for me?" I heard Fiction Hobbit ask Blink.

"Uhm. That could be kinda strange," Blink replied after a moment's hesitation.

"Oh, fine," she muttered, then just wheeled over my left hand instead.

"HEY! OW!" I shrieked in a rather high voice, then jumped up.

"Whoops! Sorry, didn't see your… Uh… Hand, there," she smiled a little too sweetly. Blink kneeled down to help me re-pack the Shrine's contents into the box.

"I don't think anything was damaged," he offered.

"For yer sake, let's hope not."

"Exactly what I'se thinking," I said with a gulp, then handed the now full box back to its owner. "There you go. G'luck wid yer writin'!"

"Thanks, boys!" she said happily, wheeling away. "I owe ya!"

"It's getting dark, and my head hurts," Blink whined. "Can we go back?"

"Yeah, yeah, let's go."

+

Thus ends chapter six. Whew. Finally I finished it. It was quite long, in WBSA standards.

Hope ya'll enjoyed it. ^_^

Next Chapter: Well, it looks like there's only one place left to visit… Yup! BROOKLYN!!!

And to the Featured Authors of Chapter Six: Which included, for those keeping score: FictionHobbit, Cards, Blizzard, and Honor. If any of you strongly disagree with how I wrote your character (remember I only had that profile thing to go by) then please contact me by review/e-mail/AIM and tell me what's up! I'll gladly edit it. Blah blah blah.

FictionHobbit: I'm finally donnnne! And we really need to work on that story of ours… (muah hah hah)

Cards: Blood stained fingers - er, I mean, pomegranate juice. Mmmmm. Don't you love drunken scenes?

Blizzard: You put Snipes to sleep! That's not a good sign..

Honor: Damn that silent 'h!'

It's Spearmint time!

-Keza