PART TWO
Eve was using a sundial to gauge her location on the high seas. Gunn was manning the helm, and Wesley was sticking his tongue out to catch droplets of seawater. "It's like snow," he'd explained to Angel earlier, but when Angel imitated him, Fred screamed at the sight of his purple tongue.
That made Angel sad. He now sat in his cabin sobbing.
Spike at this time was in a life raft 20,000 leagues under the sea. He's a real trooper, that Spike.
Angel finished wallowing in misery and decided to wreak bloody revenge against Fred. For this purpose, he got a piece of string, a green candle, a fleck of polished silver, and pasted them all with super glue to a rolled-up Connor. "Ouch, dad, I'm uncomfortable!" Conner cried in agony. He did not like being rolled into a ball.
"It's for your own good, son," Angel said gruffly. He smiled evilly, thinking of his evil surprise for Fred.
Fred never saw it coming, but the cruelest disasters occur in a split second—enough time for a baby to draw breath, a hair to fall from a head, a coin to slip into a vending machine. One minute she was sitting there, happily gazing over the ocean, the next, Eve was telling her a joke.
"So the Priest said to the Rabbi—"
"NOOOO!" Fred screamed, plunging overboard to her violent death. When she came up from the murky depths, she was Illyria, and she returned contently to her spot on the port bow.
"You were saying?" Illyria asked coolly.
Eve was a bit weirded out so they played hangman instead.
Angel, meanwhile, deprived of his bloody revenge, contented himself with hitting Eve in the head with several apples, and then sought comfort in Spike's arms. Since Spike was 20,000 leagues under the sea, he encountered difficulty—great harrowing tasks and adventures. But soon enough he was lounging with Spike in a warm Jacuzzi in Hawaii, sipping champagne.
"Aren't you just a doll!" Spike exclaimed lovingly when Angel ticked his feet.
"Yes," Angel replied solemnly, "Indeed, I am."
THE END
Eve was using a sundial to gauge her location on the high seas. Gunn was manning the helm, and Wesley was sticking his tongue out to catch droplets of seawater. "It's like snow," he'd explained to Angel earlier, but when Angel imitated him, Fred screamed at the sight of his purple tongue.
That made Angel sad. He now sat in his cabin sobbing.
Spike at this time was in a life raft 20,000 leagues under the sea. He's a real trooper, that Spike.
Angel finished wallowing in misery and decided to wreak bloody revenge against Fred. For this purpose, he got a piece of string, a green candle, a fleck of polished silver, and pasted them all with super glue to a rolled-up Connor. "Ouch, dad, I'm uncomfortable!" Conner cried in agony. He did not like being rolled into a ball.
"It's for your own good, son," Angel said gruffly. He smiled evilly, thinking of his evil surprise for Fred.
Fred never saw it coming, but the cruelest disasters occur in a split second—enough time for a baby to draw breath, a hair to fall from a head, a coin to slip into a vending machine. One minute she was sitting there, happily gazing over the ocean, the next, Eve was telling her a joke.
"So the Priest said to the Rabbi—"
"NOOOO!" Fred screamed, plunging overboard to her violent death. When she came up from the murky depths, she was Illyria, and she returned contently to her spot on the port bow.
"You were saying?" Illyria asked coolly.
Eve was a bit weirded out so they played hangman instead.
Angel, meanwhile, deprived of his bloody revenge, contented himself with hitting Eve in the head with several apples, and then sought comfort in Spike's arms. Since Spike was 20,000 leagues under the sea, he encountered difficulty—great harrowing tasks and adventures. But soon enough he was lounging with Spike in a warm Jacuzzi in Hawaii, sipping champagne.
"Aren't you just a doll!" Spike exclaimed lovingly when Angel ticked his feet.
"Yes," Angel replied solemnly, "Indeed, I am."
THE END