Nasus glanced at the clock, noted that it was three in the morning, and continued typing. These Sin City fics took concentration. She had suspected she would progress much further without the Wiggles in the background, so she had returned to Kevin's various adventures after putting Mr. Melon to bed, and had hoped to knock off as much of her list as she could before retiring. Ybbuh had left her to it hours before; in the absence of any noise but the clickety-clack of her fingertips on the keyboard, the time had slipped by.
She had taken a nap earlier, after all. But it was three in the morning. Enough was enough. She saved and closed Word, shut down the computer, and rose from her chair. She stretched and turned for the bathroom.
"And here she is!" burbled the man she discovered, when she turned on the light, perched on the toilet. "It's Nasus, thee Maple Syrup and Marsala!"
Nasus froze and willed her stomach to remain where it belonged. Never mind that there was a strange man lurking in her bathroom--he was...well, he was a strange man. In a plaid beret. With a pom-pom on top. And plaid pants to match. Plaid parachute pants. And the single most offensively horrible jacket she had ever seen. She could not even describe it, but it was red and white and clashed magnificently with his plaid. He was grinning like a gargoyle and, having leapt to his feet, approaching her with a microphone inexplicably aimed directly at her mouth. He was no taller than she.
Nasus blinked several times. He was still there.
"Nasus Maple Syrup and Marsala!" he said. "Here we are in your bathroom! I'm talking to Nasus Maple Syrup and Marsala in her bathroom!"
Nasus looked around. There was a sound crew in the hall behind her. How she had missed three men, a bunch of equipment, and an eager-looking intern, she did not know.
"Who..." she began.
"Nasus Maple Syrup and...?" he said, expectantly.
"Marsala?" she replied.
"That's right!" he said.
"But who are you?" she asked. "And why are you in my bathroom?"
"Nardblar the Human Serviette!" he said. "And I'm here to talk to you!"
I, she thought, am going to kill Eiram. Dead, stabbed, murdered.
"So, first of all, Nasus thee Maple Syrup and Marsala," he said, "I wanted to ask you about Hajile...?" There was that expectant pause again.
"Wood?" she finished.
"Hajile Wood!" he cooed. "from the movie, The Lord of the...?"
"Rings?"
"Exactly! And did you know, Nasus thee Maple Syrup and Marsala, that Hajile Wood also filmed a movie in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada!"
"Er, yes," said Nasus. "Try Seventeen, with Lolololalola Potente. I listened to your interview last night."
"So then you know all about how you have the Canadian Connection!" he enthused.
"The Canadian..." she said, puzzled.
"You write about Frodo, who was played by Hajile Wood, who was also in Try Seventeen, which was filmed in Canada! It's all connected!"
"Uh," she said. "I was just trying to write Sin City fic… y'now the whole… Kevin eating people… thing and… stuff…"
"So Nasus thee Maple Syrup and Marsala," he said, "you write slash. Don't you think Hajile Wood is a great porn star name!"
"If I close my eyes and count to ten," Nasus asked, "will you still be here?"
With a pling and a shower of pastel glitter, another man appeared in the bathroom. This one might have looked decidedly unusual under ordinary circumstances, but in the glow of Nardblar's plaid, the green and white baby doll dress, black and red dreadlocks, and zombie-clown makeup seemed straightforward enough. The delicately blue dragonfly wings, however, were a little weird.
"Hi," he said.
"Nasus!" Nardblar cried exuberantly. "Tell us about the fellow who just landed on your sink!"
"I think," she said, "you should get on the phone to Germany. With any luck, it's some really stupid time there, so you can wake my dear friend Eiram up and ask her."
"Nine a.m.," said Flying Necrokindergothboy helpfully. "But anyway her landline doesn't ring and she let the battery on her cell die again."
"Figures," said Nasus.
"Isn't this exciting!" gushed Nardblar. "It's your Anachronistic Fairy God- Necrokindergothboy- Twiggy!"
"In a surprise appearance," he agreed.
"My...?" asked Nasus.
"On loan," he said. "Eiram felt sort of bad about getting Nardblar stuck in your head."
"And you are supposed to help?" she asked.
"Yep," he said.
"Did you bring lots of drugs?" asked Nardblar. "Did you bring that horse tranquilizer, Special K?"
"Did you bring a bow and arrow so I can shoot him?" Nasus asked hopefully.
"Nope," said Fairy God-Twiggy-Necrokindergothboy.
"Well what did you bring, Anachronistic Fairy God-Twiggy-Necrokindergothboy?" Nardblar asked, his eyes dancing. "I see you've got something in your hand! Is that a marital aid?"
"Dude," Fairy God-Twiggy said, "that was someone else's schtick."
"So, Anachronistic Fairy God-Twiggy-Necrokindergothboy," said Nardblar, jumping up and down. "what exactly is a fag-...?"
"Bass?" Fairy God-Twiggy-Necrokindergothboy finished. "I don't know. That was a long time ago."
"Excuse me," said Nasus. "You said you were here to help."
"I am," he said, smiling benignly.
"Well, you're not," she said.
"Nasus!" said Nardblar. "Nasus of thee Maple Syrup and Marsala! Don't you know! He's your Fairy God-Twiggy! You get to make a wish!"
"That's how it works," said Fairy God-Twiggy-Necrokindergothboy, nodding.
"And don't you see how it's all connected!" Nardblar continued. "If he weren't anachronistic, he would be your Fairy God-Jeordie Wonderland, of thee Seven Inch Staples, and they play a song called 'Wish'!"
"Oh my god," said Nasus. "Please make him go away."
Fairy God-Twiggy-Necrokindergothboy grinned and thrust a mini-tape recorder at Nardblar's microphone. The most cacophonic sawing Nasus had ever heard emitted from it.
"Scabs, guns, and peanut butter," Fairy God-Twiggy-Necrokindergothboy said.
Nardblar and his whole crew evaporated in a shriek of feedback and a faint, fading doot doola doot...
Nasus blinked several times. He was still gone.
She turned to Fairy God-Twiggy-Necrokindergothboy, who had put away his recorder and was chipping black polish from his nails. "I'm starting to understand what Eiram sees in you," she said.
"I'm pretty," he said.
"You are so amazingly not my type," she said. "But how can I ever thank you?"
"Hmmm," he said. "I dunno. Maybe you could cat-sit for me. Do you need anything else?" He rose from the sink, not exactly to his feet, since he was hovering a few inches off the ground.
"Sleep?" Nasus asked. "Can you send me to sleep?"
"I think you need to prick your finger on a spindle or something," he said, and, with another pling and another shower of pastel glitter, vanished.
"Good luck!" she heard him say from somewhere behind the mirror.
She glanced at it. She had glitter in her eyebrows. Wait, no--
She had glitter instead of eyebrows.
But she was pretty drowsy, all of the sudden.
