I'm bored, tired, and brain-dead. MST me if you want, flame me if you
must, but always remember to keep a sense of humor.

Insanity, Inc. Fanfiction Productions Presents....

The [Delete] Key Doesn't Always Work
or
A Senseless Bit of Self-Deprecating Humor

*~*

Campbellsville University isn't exactly the greatest institution in the
world. Sure, it has the Maple Trail, the Fighting Tiger sports teams, and
a cool clock tower that chimes hymns every hour, but that doesn't
necessarily mean that it's all hunky-dory and whatnot. Case in point:
North Hall dorm.

The grubby handed-down-from-the-sports-dept.-to-the-women dormitory is
quite possibly the nastiest dorm to live in on campus. Ragged, stained
carpeting, torn furniture, and dust everywhere. And that's just the lobby.

Trudging up the stairs to 2-East, one immediately notices one thing: the
odor. Yup, the plumbing is torn up again; all the toilets overflowed
during the night. Joy. The carpet is now a squishy grey that puddles water
up against the walls.

The second thing one would notice is a loud voice shouting curses in
Japanese.

Turning into a room, one could see a figure huddled in front of a computer
screen. That person would be me. Lil' old me, one of three people on
campus that even knows what anime is and the only person to be actively
involved with it. Like, I said, it's just me, 5'6" of irritated woman.
Medium-length auburn hair stickin' every-which-a-way,
coke-bottle glasses perched on my nose, still-ain't-lost-that-baby-fat
face twisted into a frown. Piles of Japanese grammar books and tiger
figurines clutter the desk and droop off of the computer; a BlueSeed wall
scroll adorns the wall, along with scribbled kanji reading "Fujimiya
Momiji - Kusanagi Mamoru." Paints, brushes, and a can of Sam's Choice diet
cola (OK, so I'm cheap. Sue me.) finish the picture. That's my life, or
lack thereof.

At the moment I'm busy cussin' out the shareware Japanese dictionary I
snagged from a friend's CD-ROM. "Kusottare," I grumble, pecking at the
keyboard with two fingers (since I never could learn to type). Why can't
this baka thing hava as simple a word as "sword" in it?"

"Because it's junk."

I instantly turn to see who's dared to invade my territory. People barge
in all the time since I'm the only person on the floor with e-mail access
piped in. This isn't one of those people. 

It's a guy. A very *cute* guy at that. Well, he would be cute if it wasn't
for the fact that he also looked as though a semi had busted him into a
wall. "Who th' hell are you?" I grumble, the reality of my situation not
quite sinking through my thick skull.

The guy flicked on the overhead light, then stepped forward. I knew him
immediately; I had spent over a year making his life hell.

"Thomas Lyn Oliver. And you have some explaining to do."

*~*

Tommy sat on my roommate's bed, nursing a cold orange soda. "So you do
know why I'm here, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's revengefic season. So what? Revengefics are mostly just
an anime phenomenon; you're definitely *not* from any anime series I've
ever seen." I snagged my hot chocolate out of the microwave and thumped it
down on the desk. "Power Rangers: the Anime. I can see it now.... not."

He shot me a dirty look. "You made my life hell for over a year, uh...
um.... what's your name again?"

"It's Jess. Or Jessica. Or Jessie. It doesn't matter."

"OK, then, *Jessica,* you damn near killed me! I spent a year in that
freakin' fic of yours, either stuck in the hospital, being beaten by my
father, or being laid up during a battle for the earth, and ypu expect me
to just sit around and take it?!?"

It may be wise to note that I sometimes have a *very* short fuse. This was
one of those times. "Look, buster, my life wasn't exactly a bowl of
cherries either, ya know! I didn't do anything to you that I haven't
already been through!" I paused. "Well, except for the saving the world
bit, that is."

He groaned and tossed the empty soda can in the wastebasket. "I don't care
*why* you did it, or how you feel about it, or anything like that! I want
it rewritten!"

"Huh?"

Tommy reached over and grabbed my by the shirt front. "I... WANT....
THAT... STORY.... REWRITTEN-"

And a fist suddenly collided with his face, knocking him down for the
count. I pushed his unconscious body across the floor and turned to meet
the next arrival. "I was wondering when you were gonna show up, Ranma.
Akane still whippin' your butt?"

Saotome Ranma leaned up against the wall and studiously ignored the
moaning figure on the floor. "Y'know, it stinks in here," he stated.

"No shit, Sherlock," I deadpanned, rolling my eyes. "I can only guess
what's brought you here."

"I ain't gonna be pre- preg-" His face was burning red with embarassment.

"Pregnant?"

He glared at me. "Yeah! What kinda hentai are you anyway, writin' stuff
like that? I'm a guy! And I don't do stuff like- like- like, y'know,
masturbating...." His face was getting redder by the second; I grinned.

"It's only natural, Ranma. Just about everyone does it; they just can't
get themselves knocked up!" I was beginning to enjoy this. "Now, Ranma,
you know you can't attack me; I know nothing about the martial arts. So
why don't you just run along and I'll write a nice little fic for you."

He seemed to be considering it, despite the fact that steam was coming out
his ears. "You're lucky I don't fight girls," he grumbled.

"I guess I am, ne? I got the perfect fic for you! I'll do a continuation
where you go ahead and have the baby and you marry Ukyo and-"

"Grrr..."

"Now be a good little aquatranssexual and run along home so Akane can beat
you up, OK? And be sure to eat right for the baby on board!"

Ranma was positively glowing ki, he was so pissed. Unfortunately for him,
since he wasn't going to fire it at me (me being a girl and all), it had
to go *somewhere.*

I sighed as Ranma shot through the roof like a rocket, his ki finally
exploding from under him. "How'm I gonna explain this one?"

"I'd like to hear that one myself."

My eyes lit up as the sexiest man in the anime universe crouched in my
open window. He leaped down, landing catlike on his feet. Navy blue
trousers, black shirt stretched over his tight pecs, red trenchcoat waving
in the breeze from the window.... 

I launched out like a rocket and clamped myself onto his legs. "Oh,
mamo-chan, you've come for me..."

".... What th'....???" I love the expression on his face when he's
confused!

I stared up at him, big hearts in my eyes. "I want to bear your children,
Kusanagi!!!"

"Uh....." He managed to shrug me off. "Actually, I came here on
business...."

"Oh." I sighed, crestfallen. "So you've come to try to kill me too, ne? Go
ahead; if I must die for my crimes against the anime world, then let it be
by your hands...."

"Actually, I came here to thank you."

I facefaulted. "HUH?!???"

Kusanagi scratched the back of his head nervously. "Well, Momiji asked me
to come here and thank you for writing something about a cabin in the
woods, so...."

I remembered it quite clearly; it was the prelude to the BlueSeed lemon I
had toyed with writing before Lurker warned me not to. "And I bet you
kinda liked it too, ne?"

He blushed, which was just adorable! "Uh, well....."

"So you're not mad at me about Hidden Fires, then?" I glomped onto him
again happily.

He peeled me off of him.  "Naw, it's nothin' worse than what I've been
through..... Look, I gotta
go. Momiji says thanks." He climbed up in the window to leave.

"Oh, Kusanagi?"

He watched me suspiciously. "Yeah?"

"Ditch the trenchcoat. It hides that great butt of yours."

He fled. I sighed dreamily before turning back to my computer. "He came to
see me.... am I dreaming?"

My foot stumbled over Tommy's still-unconscious form. "Guess not."

-fin-


Ah, the great otaku wish-fufillment/revengefic experiment. At least now
I'm in a better mood ^_^


Jess, the LilTigre =^_^=