Chapter 4, after a long time, has been written finally. I know, I know, long time, no update, equals my fate is in the hands of the Patron Deity of Destructive Fanpeople, but hey, at least I have a fanbase who hungers after my every written word. Right? Right? Yohoo? Fans? Where are ya? COME BACK!

Nah, I've been working my butt off on night shift for measly pay, and all sorts of various activities (swimming, babysitting, eating out, playing hentai games, so on, so forth…) have been keeping me in a fairly zombie-esque mood whenever I get home… And actually, I'm in a pretty good mood, seeing as how work was fun today. But enough author rants. )

Story Starts Here: (Any suggestions for a better --- since FF blocks the current one?)

The door creaked open, revealing temporarily the blackened silhouette of one Urashima Keitaro. 'Calm down, Motoko, you've got this completely planned out.' The remaining rational side of her cried out. That side was promptly crushed, pulped, and turned into orange juice.

"NOW YOU DIE, KEITARO!" Motoko screamed, slashing her sword horizontally at the young kanrinin's neck. She was very satisfied when his head shot off of his head, before landing in the corner. She jumped over there, a feral look in her eyes, as she raised her makeshift weapon into the air and plunged it into the left eye of the head. Then the right. Then the left. Then she just started carving it into ribbons for the sheer pleasure of it.

Meanwhile, in reality…

Keitaro grumbled, tilting his head to the left until it popped. The orderly next to him grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry about that, sir, but she does that every time someone enters the room. That's also why I had you walk in front of me… as you can see, ridiculous as it may seem, that slash does hurt a tad."

Keitaro eyeballed the orderly, before returning his attention to Motoko, who was sitting in the corner, giggling gleefully, while slashing a sword fashioned out of linen repeatedly into the air in front of her.

"How long does this normally last?"

"One can only venture a guess, since we don't really know what goes on inside of her mind."

Keitaro grinned, a course of action coming to his mind. "Don't you worry about her, I've had some training and, if I may say so myself, am pretty good at working with ESP."

The orderly sighed. "You know, we didn't think it would be a physical problem, we should have checked for that. But that does explain the sudden inclination to kill every man who enters the room, her random mood swings, and the very strong craving for chocolate."

Keitaro sweatdropped. "Er, kid, I said ESP." The orderly nodded solemnly. "Are you sure the medical career is the right one for you?" Keitaro added, a second sweatdrop adding to his facial collection.

"Yeah, I get to work with cute little things like the one in front of ourselves when they are out of control. Excellent career and social move, if I may say so."

Keitaro decided to abandon the sweatdrop plan and go for a full out facefault.

"Anyway, I'm sure glad you showed up, she's been talking about you nonstop. It's good to have such reliable friends!" With that, the orderly left the room, slipping the door shut behind him.

"Now," said Keitaro, glancing around, "to stir in a bit of excitement to her fantasy." Keitaro reached up and tapped his forehead, mentally forcing himself into the young warrior's mind.

Motoko, filled with the most intense happiness at slashing and prodding the head in front of her, didn't even notice the duplicate head that appeared out of nowhere next to it. Indeed, what little attention she gave it was when she occasionally put a few stabs into it as well, for good measure. However, when it started talking to her, she suddenly started paying it rapt attention, before freaking out.

"Ah, sweet little Motoko!" Keitaro chirped, wiggling his head until it pushed the other one out of the way. "Good to see you again, how is the new scenery? Pure and white, just like yourself, right?" Keitaro laughed at the illusory alliterative illiterate allusion (and then tried saying that three times fast, failing.)

"I came bearing good news! Your sister is dead, your family disgraced, and you are locked away in a loony bin for all eternity! But there is more! I just saved big money by switching to Beiko!" Keitaro peered at Motoko intently, who just stared back. "Ah, damn, American joke I picked up, guess you don't get it. See, Beiko is an insurance company with a talking bike for a mascot, which is weird since it is an automotive insur –" Motoko finally spoke.

"What are you here for?"

"Well, I had 15 minutes to spare, so I spent them pleasuring myself over some candid pictures of you I found while cleaning out your underwear drawer the other day. You must remember to pose to the right in the future, it is your better half, and -" Motoko shrieked.

"You looked at my entries?"

Keitaro blinked. "Entries?"

"To Lonely Warrior Women Weekly, this really awesome magazine that helps girls like me to get…" Motoko paused in her tirade, realizing what she was admitting. "You die! PERVERT!" Motoko slashed at his neck again, which was ineffectual for two reasons. One, her sword was made out of bed sheets. Two, he was a severed head. No neck was his game in the past, and now it was literally true.

"Ah, like I was saying, after making some pleasant memories and reacquainting some of my old anatomic lovers, I decided to waste a few minutes here with you. Which is up, I'm guessing, since you so obviously don't want to talk."

Motoko huffed. "No, I don't want to talk. Get the hell out!" Keitaro's head sighed, and with a snap, returned to Keitaro's body, signally the end of the fantasy.

"Okay, okay, I can take a hint. OI, ORDERLY!" The man ran in. "A few last minute rearrangements. If you want this girl to get better faster, just Xerox these photos and spread them all around the hospital. It'll help bolster her esteem and remind her of her self worth." The orderly, dumb as ever, nodded.

"Once she seems to have healed some, (you'll know because she'll stop screaming and be sitting in the corner in a semi-catatonic state) feel free to publish it on the internet under the name hookerwswordOMFGhawt!(3).jpg. That'll be the straw that broke the – I mean, the medicine that heals her the quickest. Yeah."

That said, Keitaro left the hospital, only glancing back once. Motoko was sobbing in the corner and trying to commit Seppuku with a cloth sword, and the orderly was holding up the first photo for his friends to see.

Keitaro grinned, his duty done. However, as he left the building, a strong foot connected with his head, driving him to the ground. As he wearily lifted his head, a pair of orange panties with the Polpol marking on them winked briefly before hiding under the miniskirt that was the fad with schoolgirl uniforms.

"Heya, big pervert brother!"

Keitaro grinned upwards at the young princess's face. And to think, he had intended to just go home and install hidden cameras in all the rooms… but no, something interesting had to happen to him.

End of Story (Come on, contest to see what my new page breaker thingie will be! Winner
gets to be in the next chapter!)

Whatcha think? A little too harsh? Just the right amount of harsh? Is there a word to describe the opposite of 'a little too harsh?' Maybe 'a little unharsh?' Who knows. And yes, for the people keeping track, this is the first one to only have something happen to one character. Motoko. God I dislike that vixen. Next chapter, a big orgy? Nah, I'll think of something even better!

Meanwhile...

The author is sitting at home, musing with a big grin on his face as he tries repeatedly... he has just one thing to say to his loyal fans... and he is going to say it five times fast!

Illusory alliterative illiterate allusion, illusory alliterative illiterate allusion, illusory alliterative illiterate allusion, illusory alliterative illiterate allusion, allusory illiusoration illusi... SHOOT. And this was my illusory alliterative illiterate allusion conclusion! (say that, if the first was too easy! P)

Later, my loyal fans!