Hello guys. This chapter is born of the urgent need to write something extremely stupid after I had to finish a particularly nasty assignment on economic theories. It is also a reaction to certain reviews I got over the course of time. (Glares at one special reader) It is also my surprise for all the faithful readers on this special day. Believe me, this is -if you imagine it- scary enough to be a

Halloween Episode.

Let me give you an honest Warning: This has absolutely nothing to do with the story whatsoever, it is complete fluff and you need not read it in order to understand the main-story. This would normally be rated PG-I (Parental Guide - Insane) but unfortunately the database doesn't recognize this rating. Aiiiich! And if you are easily disturbed by outbursts of craziness, you should stop reading now and come back for the next update. By the way, this piece also includes several mean spoilers and in-jokes.

You still wanna read?

Really?

Uh... ok...

So proceed fearless reader into the realms of utter nonsense...

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How To Hook A Mage - The Making Of - Part 2

A group of dark hooded figures in black robes had gathered in a circle inside a dark cavern. The cave was dark... I mean, it was really dark. As dark as as ever a cave could be that was the favorite meeting place of evil cultists. One of the shadowy figures stepped into the center of the circle and began to speak.

"Dear fellow cultists", the eerie figure began. "I am glad you all could attend our meeting and that you found your way around this very dark place. The night has come to do incredible, unspeakable deeds of evil."

The other figures nodded in approval.

"I called for this meeting because I want to share with you my most recent malicious scheme-"

"We take over the world?"

"No, that will come later. At first we have to kill the man I hate with a passion, we will root out this miserable spawn of evil, extinguish his flame of life and sweep him away from the planet, destroy this black-robed nuisance..."

The leader had clenched his fists in excitement. His audience exchanged confused looks.

"Tonight we will kill Raistlin Majere!" he announced, tears of joy running along his cheeks. The other cultists stared at each other in confusion. They were all silent for a minute or so.

"Ahm... Grandmaster Blackjack..." one man asked meekly. "How will we achieve that? I don't want to spoil the fun, but he is really powerful and his spell resistance is enormous."

The leader, a man named Blackjack, froze.

"Damn. You are right, fellow. Most magic would not work on him. Maybe we could use some weapons of the future on him. We could use phasers or the chainsaw of bloody dismemberment. No, no better not. If the dragonlords get their hands on them we're in trouble... No, we need something special. Something that overcomes his resistance. Hm.... maybe a curse. But which one? It must be an incredibly brutal curse."

Another particularly ugly cultist approached the leader.

"Master, I have cunning plan..."

The leader turned.

"And what could that be? Baldw- errr.... minion?"

The minion shrugged.

"I heard of an incredibly nasty curse that will surely give him a lot of trouble. It is brutal as you wanted and it is absolutely insane."

"You've got my interest, minion."

"Leader Blackjack. Let us raise our voices and chant praising hymns to the unspeakable deity of the ancient who is called Warn'R Bro' Thersss by his deformed followers."

"Yeah, you are right. This is unspeakable indeed. But however, now that you mention it, that seems a good plan, minion. We will invoke the mysterious deity of destruction and send Raistlin our warmest regards with a curse that is fed by the endless malice of our god... Muhaha... I like the idea... Did anybody bring a chicken for the obligatory bloody sacrifice?"

"I only have these frozen chickenwings, master. I actually wanted to prepare them in the microwave later this evening-"

"Good, minion. These will do..."

And soon after an eldritch chanting began... And later, they served tea and cookies...

...meanwhile...

In the morning on the set of Wishful Thinking everybody was busy. Petalwing, the director, had already her first breakdown of the day, since the kender actors had driven her mad again with their repeated suggestion that the show should include a dragon. Petalwing had tried to explain that they had not enough money to employ a dragon. The irritable beholders were expensive enough. The kender had not understood of course.

Dally, the assistant director ran around handing everybody papers which listed the scenes they planned to shoot today. Suddenly, a loud, eerie wail was heard all over the set.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHRG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The gully darves in the kitchen froze over the sandwiches they were preparing, even the kender ceased fuzzing over the dragon issue and Dally let all her papers slide to the ground while she put her fingers in the ears. The second daily ritual had begun. The director tried to persuade the star of the show to leave his caravan and participate in the shooting. It was everyday the same trouble. Though this time he seemed to be more upset then usual. The crew gathered around a luxury caravan with the letters "R.M." painted at the door. They could hear two voices from the inside.

"THIS IS AN INCREDIBLE IMPERTINENCE! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WORK WITH THESE STUPID THINGS ATTACKING ME!"

"No," they heard the director speaking calmly while the star ended up coughing like hell.

"Nobody is attacking you, Raistlin."

"FOR YOU ITS ARCHMAGE MAJERE!"

Another cough. Petalwing sighed.

"Don't you think you are a tiny little bit paranoid?"

"Paranoid? Me?"

Outside, everybody let out a deep breath. He spoke in a normal manner again. At least.

"These stupid things keep on falling on my head as soon as I leave the caravan. I won't come out until the problem is solved."

Everybody in front of the door groaned in frustration. In the meantime Nima had come around and had joined the rest of the crew.

"What is it today?" she said casually. "Why won't he come out this time? Does my Co-Star haggle for another raise of his fee again?"

"I HEARD THAT!"

The door of the Caravan was opened revealing a hectic Petalwing. She looked scathingly at Nima.

"You know you mustn't say this!" the director whispered desperately. "Lets just pretend he was the only star of the show and everything is fine. Never say that Co-word when he is in hearing distance-"

"I HEARD THAT TOO!"

He coughed. Petalwing rolled her eyes and vanished into the Caravan again banging the door.

The rest of the discussion went on in muffled tones so the people outside couldn't follow the discussion anymore.

Only Caramon had not joined the rest so far. He sat in the director's camping chair and had read a book. Now he closed it and went over.

"What do you think how much time she will need today to persuade him? Do you think it will be enough time for another coffee break?"
Naranja, the young actress, peered at the book's cover.

"Oh, I didn't know you read Alighieri in your sparetime, Caramon."

The man raised his broad shoulders.

"The subtle humor stimulates me intellectually." he explained. "After occupying myself with Machiavelli, I needed something more philosophical."

Raf, the gully dwarf from the Inn of Last Home, joined him.

"Did you already read Adorno's 'Dialectic of Enlightenment'? A highly interesting publication."

"No," Caramon said. "But maybe I can borrow it from you.

"Gladly." answered the gully dwarf. "I actually was fascinated by the discourse on the whole concept of reason..."

They both went off in search for a newspaper.

Naranja looked at Nima.

"They always impress me, they are so different when they act in the series."

Nima shrugged.

"Speaking of acting different, did you already see Dalamar today?" the kender asked innocently. Her friend frowned.

"That arrogant bastard? Thinks he is cool just because he has pointed ears and so. I heard he gets tons of fan-letters and marriage-proposals each day. He is such a vain jerk!"

"Well, if you think him so stupid then why the hell did you accept a role where he is your love interest?"

Dally blurted out. The assistant director had a crush on their elven star and it was obvious for anybody who was longer on the set then 20 minutes.

"Because I'm a professional." Naranja replied sullenly. "Later I can always say that I was young and I needed the money."

Dally growled. In the very same moment, Petalwing came out of the wagon with an expression of utter distress.

"Ok, people." she announced. "It seems that for some reason, pianos attack our star constantly. I want you all to go and clean the set of every piano you can find."

"PIANOS?!!" cried Dally. Like the rest she was not sure if she had heard correctly. "We don't have a piano in the show. That would be anachronistic."

Petalwing sighed.

"I know. But Raistlin claims that this morning already three pianos fell from the sky aiming at him. He could only prevent being squashed under the objects by his high initiative rating and his battle trained reflexes. And we need our star alive. So let's go and look for UFPs."

"UFPs?"

"Unidentified Falling Pianos."

"Uh...ok..."

The crew followed their director's order and went off in search for the musical attackers. To their great surprise they found more then twenty pianos on the set. Nobody knew where these had come from.

Meanwhile, the director suffered her second breakdown of the day. She was helped by Dally who stuffed the director full with chocolate until Petalwing was in urgent danger of throwing up. The director had gained at least two kilos in the process but the little endorphines did their work.

"Raistlin, you can come out!" both Dally and Petalwing cried after they had crushed all the Pianos. The remaining pieces had been piled up on the edge of the set. They would make a great pile of wood for another gypsy-campfire scene. The only one who had complained over the destruction of the instruments was Naranja.
"That was a Steinway..." they heard her sob.

The caravan door opened and Raistlin peered out of the wagon.

"Is it safe?"

"YES!" the crew cried in unison.

"No pianos?"

"NO!"

He left the caravan. Nothing happened. No piano appeared in the sky.

Finally, they started with the first scene of the day.

The scene was from another dream sequence and included Raistlin and Nima. Both took their stances. Knoblar, the gnome, appeared in front of the camera, wielding a huge clapperboard. "Soulwrenching DR-6- the first" he cried and hurried out of the way.

Nima recited her first line.

"Did you ever tell him you were sorry?"

Raistlin smirked as the script commanded.

"No. And besides I'd very likely do it again. He knows what I'm capable of. So why should I tell a lie?"

Nima frowned in the appropriate manner, both actors shared an estimating stare and held it for considerable time, until Petalwing decided that this had been enough drama and motioned them to go on. It was Nima's turn again.

"Because it would bring peace to his heart? He loves-"

Somebody shouted from the set.

"Watch out! The anvil!!!"

"BONK!"

"CUUUUT!"

Too late the actors realized what had happened. A giant anvil had appeared above them and had fallen straight on Raistlin who lay now buried unter a huge chunk of metal.

He crew gasped. Petalwing sobbed.

"Raistlin?" Nima asked hesitantly. "Are you ok?"

"Take that cursed thing off me, you imbeciles." came the muffled reply.

Everybody sighed in relief.

Dally called for the make-up artist while the rest of the cast did their best to shove the anvil from the set.

Behind the fence that separated the film-crew from the outside world, two men wearing black watched the scene. They had been pleased to see the anvil falling but their expressions turned to distress when they realized that Raistlin was still alive.

"How can he survive three pianos and an anvil? He can't be immune to our curse. He should be dead by now. Dead dead dead! Damn!"

"Ahm... Grandmaster Blackjack..."

"Yes, minion?"

"Didn't you know? The Curse of the mighty Warn'R Bro' Thersss can not kill. It is brutal and it hurts awfully but the things won't kill. I must have forgotten to tell you..." he trailed off.

"Whaaaaat?!?"

Blackjacks scornful face was enough to make the faithful minion run for his life. And if they haven't stopped running yet, they are probably running still. Master and minion. But at least they get a lot of sportive exercise, don't they?

Meanwhile on the set, Raistlin had been freed and refused to take any further shoots today, the director had her third breakdown, the assistant director started a catfight with Naranja, Dalamar was reading his fanmail, Caramon and Raf discussed philosophical matters and the story was still a tape worm...

And if they have not gone crazy yet, you may very well look for an update soon...

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A/N: This has been written without a Beta-reader. Gross orthographic and grammatical errors are to blame solely on me. Now I look for cover and hope my beta-reader doesn't kill me for what I did to her in this episode.

To Guan: I just saw that you review a lot so you must be reviewing nearly everything you read. I think its great that you do that because so the authors know that at least one person read their fics even if the review is only one sentence or so. At least know how happy I am every time I get a review. So thanks again.

To Hilary: Hi there. I sent you the email a second time. If you didn't get it, than please go and repair your internet explorer or check on your provider. Please. ;) And no, I wouldn't make Raistlin sing "we're kender, we're slender". Even my vivid imagination doesn't stretch this far... LOL