AN: Backstory time! I really tried to capture the essence of Chanthalia's sister, and what she felt at the time of her untimely demise time of. Constructive criticism will be much appreciated.

The startling rays of the Egyptian sun delved guilefully into the forbidden cleft of one Jaqinthia Belle Worthington-Smythe's buxom knockers. She breathed it all in.

This is it. I've arrived. For months, she had trekked the Nile's unforgiving pastures, until she arrived lustrously at its peak. This is what I've been waiting for. All my life.

They said she wouldn't be able to do it. Her family staged an intervention, her own father throwing himself at her feet and wailing, "My baby girl wants to travel through the savage lands!"

But Jaqinthia didn't listen.

If she had one regret, it was that she left her sister behind. Her beautiful sister, who would need all the guidance in the world if she were to fulfill her potential as the new Starmaid: Queen of Night. But then again, her sister was tough. She would be able to duke it out and fulfill her potential as the new Starmaid: Queen of Night. Just as the Doctor had intended. What doctor? A better question would be….

Who.

But enough about her queer little sister. Jaqinthia lent enough of her time to that flat chested monstrosity. A miasma of rage filled her head as she thought of her sister. But it passed.

Jaqinthia stood atop the Great Sphinx of Giza. She had been standing there, admiring the view, for the last 15 minutes as her tour guide caught up with her. Ali Babba wasn't much of a tour guide, but he was great at certain other… nighttime activities, such as fly fishing, and making campfires. He was also excellent at sex. He used his greasy man totem to full effect, exploring her deep ocean trench like Bob Ballard would explore a deep ocean trench. He had her going steady doggy style, or, rather ape style for almost 5 minutes, until he collapsed onto her like a dying star of lust and passion. Jaqinthia knew Bleu, her sister´s gay bff, had a thing for primitives, and she could see why. Her horse- no, hippotatopotamus, no, BELUGA WHALE hung lover had made a journey that all was sure would break her very bearable. His pillar of man meat had become her pillar of strength. Her other pillar of strength was Jesus.

PATER noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen.

(Translation copyright DregtheDarkAngel 2012)

Jaqinthia knew that life was short, destined to be extinguished like a candle in a sea of rain. As much as she appreciated Ali Babba, she would rather not wait around. Whirling her grappling hook around and aiming it at the nearest tree, she swung to the top of the Great Pyramid, landing with a pivot at the very top, like a magenta angle atop the freshest of viridian Christmas evergreens.

The view from up here was amazing. King Tut certainly knew how to build a good tomb. She wished her father´s company would finish constructing the viewing platform - Wait, what was Ali Babba doing down there! He had changed out of his primitive loin cloth, into a turban! He was Al-Qaeda!

She should have suspected this. The betrayal was shocking. She had given him her everything, her love, her respect, her virginity. How could he do this! Had he no feelings? She cursed the Mohammedans with everything she was worth.

He brandished a rather large, sweaty, AK-47. The fool. If he thought he could hit her with that clumsy French piece of crap, he wish wrong. Jaqinthia leapt in a graceful arc back to the Great Sphinx, narrowly avoiding every bullet with impeccable grace. Ali Babba cried in mortal terror, like a swan, singing its last song, but not quite accepting its inevitable fate, languid in its own denial, destined to drown in a foul concoction of its own stupid ignorance. For the sake of what they shared, Jaqinthia would make this quick. Grabbing him by the scalp, she took out the serrated combat knife Shari had given her in case she ever wanted to join the Navy Seals, and plunged it straight into his filthy Egyptian throat. Everywhere the blood flowed, spraying like a fine mist. She lapped it up. Jaqinthia gave him one last kiss before pushing him in a graceful arc off the Great Sphinx.

Well, time to blow this fascist popsickle stand. She leapt in a graceful arc to the base of the Great Sphinx. She hoped Ali Babba hadn't had the time to report her location to the rest of his heathen camel jockey brethren before she grabbed him by the scalp, took out the serrated combat knife Shari had given her in case she ever wanted to join the Navy Seals, and plunged it straight into his filthy Egyptian throat. No, she didn't see any sort of communication contraption on his filthy Egyptian corpse. Time to run before someone notices –

When she looked up, she was surrounded. Five Al-Qaedonians looked at her with lust for murder, and perhaps a bit more evident in there limpid green eyes. They fired their standard issue Al-Qaedonian AK-47s in harmonic unison, the bullets penetrating her delicate body like lead phalluses, tearing apart everything she was, is, or destined to be.

If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

(Poem copyright DregtheDarkAngel 2012)