I managed to wrangle a few plotbunnies, because I love you all so very much, you're so much more important than some stupid London Riots essay.

Queen Libby Doe held back a groan of frustration and made a supreme effort to keep her eyes from shooting skywards.

"All I'm saying," she spat, "Is that the little tart deserved it, she should know better than to come on to the king of Transsexual!"

"Honey," Captain Obvious said softly, his mask-like expression of mildness slipping to reveal an annoyed twitch, "She was just shaking my hand."

"Pur-lease – don't insult my intelligence! I saw that lingering smile, that faint dilation of her pupils, the way she pressed herself against you –"

"She's my mother!" the captain yelled, the queen blinked at her meek husband's outburst.

"Still," the queen inspected her nails casually, "Now she knows better," she added darkly, shooting a smirk at the bloody knife sticking out of the old fool's chest.

The captain screamed with exasperation and grabbed a random jacket before storming our the door, "I'm going to meet with the boys at the bar!"

~~~*~~~Several Beers Later~~~*~~~

"Aw, man! Mrs O is dead?" Private Pestillance frowned and his forehead creased like taffetta, "Why do the hot always die young?"

Captain Obvious shrugged sadly, his gentle mask reappearing, "Well, you know what Libby's like…" he trailed off as his comrades gave him understanding pats on the back and mumbled their agreement.

"You can't blame her for being possessive," Professor Pedantic slipped in, "You are the most desired male in all of Vania."

"But she knows that I would never –"

"Doesn't matter," the professor nodded sagely as the group of men goggled at him, "She's a Furter. Studies show that they have double the amount of jealous-omes than normal Vanians – and we have a lot of jealous-omes, believe you me - but it appears that The Silk Stocking has double the amount of jealous-omes than the average Furter..."

The captain shook his head and groaned, "Is there any way to fix her?" he cried desperately.

The professor pondered this for a moment, "Not that I know of… I could run some tests, do some research, the whole she-bang… but it might be years before we get any deffinite results," he peered suspiciously at the captain, "And I don't even want to think of the expense…"

"I don't care. I don't care if it takes a century and I have to pay ten noics a minute," he looked around him darkly, having a sudden urge to be unreasonable, "My grandmother's coming over next month and it wouldn't be fun to have her executed as well. Have a rough sample prepared by then," he added fiercly as the professor spluttered.

"I really don't know what her damage is. I mean, when someone apologises – no matter what they've done - you have to forgive them. It's the rules! She's breaking the law! She's just lucky I haven't reported her… yet."

Analsnog nodded absently as Columbia continued to babble, completely unrestrained, about Nation's angry aloof-ness towards her.

"I mean, you can't even really see the bald patch," she hedged, "It's only visible under certain lighting, and, actually, I think it quite suits her. She should be thanking me for the fresh new look! And I should be the one giving her the silent treatment!"

"That would be a terrible punishment," Analsnog said softly, not bothering to open her eyes or move from her prone position on the park bench.

Columbia nodded enthusiastically from her spot on the grass and continued to whine.

"And don't get me started on her –"

"Umbie, Snoggy," a shadow fell over Columbia, cutting her off quite effectively.

Columbia snapped her head up to locate the owner of the curt greeting.

"Oh, Cyan," she said miserably, dropping her eyes to the ground and blushing. Analsnog didn't show any sign of recognition, not even twitching at the sound of her nickname.

"Good call sitting on the floor, Umbie," Cyan added snootily, flicking her icy-blue hair back wickedly, "Now the groundskeeper won't have to burn the bench."

Yellow snorted sycophanticly whilst Columbia became redder than her hair.

"Oh, spoke to soon," she added, glancing at Analsnog superiorly.

Yellow giggled again and stared at Cyan admirably.

"What do you want, Cyan," Columbia muttered, daring to look up into her smirking face.

"Well, being a member of the Royal Animal Protection Experience, I took it upon myself to investigate these rather disturbing screams – it sounded like an animal in distess," she stopped, aparantly overcome at the thought whilst Yellow sighed dreamily, "Then, of course, I realised it was just you talking."

She laughed nastily and stuck her teeth out, doing a cruel parody of Columbia's overbite, whilst Yellow spluttered and copied her.

"If your teeth are bothering you, I'd be happy to knock some out for you," Analsnog's soft voice drifted from the bench, where she lay, stiller than a corpse.

Cyan glared at the twosome and, flicking her obviously-dyed hair over her shoulder dramatically, flounced away with an equally offended Yellow on her tail.

"Eurgh!" Columbia shuddered and lost her blush, "She's horrible, absolutely horrible!"

Analsnog shrugged casually, "It does takes a lot to make Nation look lightweight in comparison," she said thoughtfully, her eyes still cemented shut, "Speaking of…"

"Hello Analsnog!" Nation floated over to the bench wearing a forcibly cheery smile and a migraine-inducing scarf over her hair.

"Nation," Analsnog twitched a finger in welcome.

"Hi Nation!" Columbia popped up and beamed, waving furiously at Nation, who had apparently become mysteriously deaf and blind to the squealing girl.

"How are you, Snog? Keeping well?" her smile became impossibly wider, and her eyes narrower as she studiously ignored the progressively more manic Columbia.

"It may be my imagination, but I think that Columbia wants to talk to you," she replied calmly, oblivious to the laser-glare shooting from Nation's eyes.

"Who?" she said sharply, the smile long gone, "That pink-haired, squeaky-voiced, scalper? What coulds he possibly have to talk to me about? Or has she got another gob-full of gum primed and ready to spit?" she snapped before re-applying the fake smile and peering over Columbia's shoulder, "Ah, Sandy! Wait up!" she cried, hurrying away.

"Urrrrrrgh! What do I have to do to end this?" Columbia cried and collapsed back to the ground.

"It's rather obvious," said Analsnog, stopping to scratch her nose and open her eyes, silently enjoying the tortured look on Columbia's face as she waited, "Nation's all about material goods. Just get her a present and she'll be putty in your hands."

Columbia frowned in thought, "What does Nation like…?"

"Wealth. Power. Designer stuff."

"Er…" Columbia fidgeted and thought of her woefully small amount of pocket money, "Do you think she'd be happy with a chocolate bar?"

Analsnog shook her head, "Just think…. What does she love more than anything else in the world?"

"Gossip!" Colombia screamed immediately, "That's it! I'll just have to get her the juiciest piece of gossip in existance!"

Another filler! Are you seeing the plots tying together?

I stole the 'knock your teeth out' bit from Avenue Q - plagiarism's fun! ;D

By the way, "noic" is just a form of currency in Transsexual. Ten tenos make a noic. Sixteen nodups make a teno. I really do need help. -_-