Dad Cassidy and the Sundance Vorlag

By Bob Hutchinson (aka UCSBdad)
Copyright 2000

Author's Notes:
DISCLAIMER: Er, Mr. Kemper, Mr. O'Bannon, Mr. Henson, could I interest you in a large, furry addition to Farscape?
Time: Too soon.
RATING: This is one clean story.
ARCHIVING: Anywhere, anytime. But you get Larry.

Hi, my name is UCSBdad and I'm a Crichton Abuser. But, I haven't abused John Crichton in almost two months. I have seen the light and now follow the precepts of SACC (The Society Against Cruelty to Crichton). Shortly after my conversion, I submitted a story to SACC that had to be edited to remove a large, vicious, angry critter who spent a great deal of the story abusing John Crichton. That was, of course, Larry, the Razor Tooth Vorlag.

I'm sure that you all know that supernumerary fanfic characters are a fact of life for fanfic writers. Why, I have a Sebacean pirate who's been around for over a cycle while I try to get his story to work. Not to mention one of Rygel's many ex-wives whose story I also just can't get straight. The pirate drops by every now and again and asks if he can be in a story and I oblige him. He was having a beer in the bar scene in The Taming of the Shrew. Check it out. He's just over John's right shoulder. Ever wonder what a babe looks like to Rygel? John knows. Every time I borrow the poor boy for a little fanfic, she tries to come on to him. Aeryn chases her away, though.

But Larry was different. He wanted to be in all my fanfics. Not only that, he went on the Sci Fi Bulletin Board and started making friends. Soon he was doing guest shots in other fanfics. He also likes parties. Oh, does Larry ever LOVE parties.

I should explain that while Larry usually plays a critter or a villain, it's strictly type casting. Larry is about five feet high at the shoulders, a quadruped, of course, and weighs about twelve hundred pounds. He's covered with dark brown fur and has the biggest, if not the nicest, smile around, his fangs being about eighteen inches long. He also has long, sharp claws. And whatever you do, don't stand near Larry's tail. Larry wags his tail when he's happy and Larry is almost always happy.

But the real Larry is one of the nicest guys you'd ever want to meet. He's hard working, a real family vorlag, friendly, polite, considerate, compassionate, and a very good student. Larry hopes to get into the UCLA Film School, but his SATs aren't very good. It's not that he doesn't study or isn't smart, but vorlags don't have opposable thumbs, so he has trouble holding those number two pencils to mark his answers.

If Larry does have a major fault, it's that he's too willing. He tries too hard. He tries way too hard. In fact, he tries.... well, you'll see.

So, if you've ever wondered what goes on in the making of a fanfic, you are about to find out.

I gathered my characters together to run through the scene with them.

"Chiana, you're walking through this little town, tracking a mark you're about to scam and not paying too much attention to who else is around, okay?"

Chiana looked unhappy. "Dad, where on Earp did you get this town? I mean it's lame even for the Uncharted Territories. Couldn't you set this someplace with room service?"

Chiana is a great character, but she hates roughing it. "Chi, this is the town from the classic Earp, em, Earth, western Shane. Muddy streets, ramshackle wooden buildings, gray, threatening skies. I always thought that the Old West was a great simile for the Uncharted Territories. Trust me on this, Pip."

Pip didn't look convinced. "Isn't Las Vegas in the west?" she asked sweetly.

I ignored her and continued. "Scorpius, you play the villain, of course."

Scorpy leaned back in his chair and took a long pull on his margarita. "Of course I do, Dad. You want the very best in villainy. And not some comic relief villain that gets beaten up by a chick. Maybe Crais could clean up after the vorlag. Is he housebroken?"

I scratched my head. "I don't know. You took over his command carrier. What do you think?"

Before Scorpy could answer, I decided I was in danger of losing control again. "Scorp Man, all you have to do is stroll out of the shadows, grab Pip and start to haul her off. Can Do?"

Scorpy nodded and went back to his margarita.

I turned to Larry. He looked a little nervous. After all, this was his first big part. "Larry, as soon as Scorpy grabs Pip, you zoom around the corner and grab her, then take her off to your lair in the mountains. That leaves both John, and Aeryn, of course, as well as Scorpy looking for her. Nice plot device if I say so myself."

Larry started to stammer. "Dad, I haven't cleaned my lair in the mountains since I moved in with you. I don't think the bed has been made since--- the Fourth of July? I think there's still that extra roast boar...."

"Larry, just take Chi around the corner, okay, Big Fella?"

Larry smiled and nodded and we were ready.

Chiana followed a prosperous looking spacer down the street with a contented smile on her face. Suddenly, a leather-clad arm reached out from the shadows and seized her.

"I think we should get to know each other better, don't you Chiana?" Scorpius said with a surprising mildness.

"Let go of me you pervoid. John! D'Argo! Help!"

Suddenly a fierce, razor tooth vorlag burst around the corner. As he sped towards the struggling pair, his rear legs started to lose traction in the mud. Suddenly the mighty vorlag's legs shot out from under him and he spun out of control. Scorpius nimbly dodged out of the way, but poor Pip was struck broadside by the vorlag's mighty tail. The impact threw her into a pool of muddy water.

Chiana came up spitting water out. "You farbot furball, can't you even run properly?"

Suddenly Chi sniffed suspiciously. "There's vorlag dren in this pool. He isn't housebroken!"

As poor Larry cowered, Chi advanced screaming threats. "I'll rip your fur out hair by hair, you furry freak. I'll do worse than put you in a comfy chair. I'll, I'll.... "

I quickly retyped the scene.

Pip was almost to poor Larry. "Here I am standing... on the hard dry sand of Tatooine, perfectly dry?"

Larry breathed a sigh of relief. Chiana was not so easily mollified. She shook her fist at Larry. "I remember what happened, you over grown rug. I ought to try a little of you on the arm, as John says."

Suddenly, Pip looked in her hand. "I found a jewel. It's absolutely beautiful. And it's blue, just like D'Argo and John's eyes."

Larry edged over to me. "Dad, isn't that the famous Blue Water sapphire?"

I smiled. "It's okay, Lar. P. C. Wren is both dead and English."

I assembled the characters again. "Okay, why don't we start where Larry is running towards Pip and Scorpius. Larry, just run straight past the Mos Eisley Holiday Inn there."

The mightily muscled vorlag ran straight at the struggling couple. Without breaking stride, he grabbed Chiana in one paw and sped off to a gigantic ocean liner. Leaping to the prow, he lifted Chiana up and bellowed, "I'm the king of the world."

"Larry! Down here, right now!" I yelled.

An abashed vorlag walked up to me, looking very, very innocent.

I tried to remain calm. "An ocean liner in the middle of a desert planet? News flash, Larry. The scene's been done before."

"Dad, I just thought I'd help out your fanfic a little. I just loved Titanic."

"Larry, Farscape has already done a little homage to Titanic. We need to be original."

Larry hung his head. "Does this mean you won't hire Celine Dion to sing in this fanfic?"

I ignored the question. "Let's try this again, shall we Larry? From…...."

"Let go of me you pervoid. John! D'Argo! Help!" screamed Chiana. Both Pip and Scorpius looked for the fearsome charging vorlag, but Larry was nowhere to be seen. Chiana quickly ad-libbed.

"John! D'Argo! Help! Let go of me you pervoid." Then she smiled and kicked Scorpius, hard.

Suddenly, the air was split by a thunderous ululation. Then, Larry, wearing a leather loincloth and swinging from a vine, swung past the startled Scorpius and grabbed Pip. The duo swung away with Larry yelling "Me Larry, you Pip."

When Larry swung back, I took him aside. "Larry, jungle vines in Mos Eisley? Isn't this the sort of little error that perceptive fans will catch and complain about? Perhaps a little bit too much suspension of disbelief?"

"Well, Dad, I thought that since Edgar Rice Burroughs was English...."

"...and dead, you'd just borrow a little bit?" I finished for Larry.

I patted Larry on the head. "Maybe, Larry, we should start you off a little slower. You could be the first mate for that Sebacean pirate. He could kidnap Pip and I could write a really nice part for you."

"Dad, you promised me! You said I could be a main character in your fanfic." Larry was starting to snuffle.

I turned and walked back to Chiana and Scorpius and suddenly slammed into a gigantic computer console. Before I could begin to figure out how it had gotten here, I heard a voice behind me.

"Do not move. Do not attempt to escape. Resistance is futile."

I slowly turned my head. "Seven of Nine?"

"You know me?" She said in surprise.

I slowly turned. It was Seven of Nine, sort of. She was dressed in a red leather micro miniskirt, stiletto heels, and a black halter-top. Her long black hair hung loose around her face.

"Seven of Nine to the bridge. I have an intruder."

A familiar voice responded. "Beam Seven and the intruder to the bridge."

I felt the tingling of the transporter and found myself facing Larry on the bridge. I started towards Larry but was stopped by two black haired women.

Tasha Yar pushed her phaser into my ribs. "As Captain Larry's chief of security, I'm responsible for---"

Major Kira Nerys interrupted. "As Captain Larry's bodyguard, I'm responsible for this."

While the two women argued, I turned to Larry. Before I took another step, Counselor Deanna Troi, stretched her long legs and smiled lazily at Larry while resting her head on his shoulder.

"Captain Larry. I feel this intruder is hostile to you. Beware, dear Captain."

Jadzia Dax put her hand on Larry's head and scratched behind his ears. "As your science officer, I've scanned him and determined he's unarmed, Captain Sweetie."

Ezri Dax spoke up. "Both of your science officers determined he's unarmed, Larrykins. Quit trying to hog all the credit Jadzia."

I stared at Larry. "Larry, what are you trying to do here?"

Larry smiled. "This is my fanfic, Dad. These are the voyages of the starship Who Let The Vorlags Out (Woof, Woof), whose mission is to boldly go where---"

"Larry, you just split an infinitive."

Larry checked his uniform pants. "I did? Wardrobe, over here, please."

I shook my head. "No, Lar. I mean it should be "to go boldly", not "to boldly go".

"I knew that, Dad."

"And Larry, I'm not sure how Paramount will feel about this use of their characters. Most of all, Larry, all of these women suddenly look to be just out of their teens, they're all in these micro mini skirts and halter tops, and someone has written them as all having had silicone jobs. The cleavage in here is unbelievable. Oh, and let's not forget the sudden outbreak of raven-hairedness in Starfleet. God, Larry! Is raven-hairedness even a word?"

Larry looked crestfallen. "But didn't you say sex sells?"

I shook my head. "Larry, we're not doing a beer commercial here. I was trying to do a nice 'shippy Farscape fanfic. With just a little humor in it."

Suddenly, I had an unpleasant thought. "You weren't planning to put Aeryn into a micro mini, make her about nineteen years old and enter her in a wet tee shirt contest or something, were you?"

I could swear Larry blushed, but it's hard to tell with a vorlag. "Of course not, Dad. Would I do something like that?"

Just then the doors to the turbolift opened and in came a raven haired Dr. Beverly Crusher. "Captain Larry, dearest, I've been working with Nurse Chapel on the wet tee shirt contest between Medical and Engineering. If B'Elanna is the best they can do, Medical will be ready for your mystery contestant."

Larry did blush. "Computer, erase Fanfic Larry Alpha One, authorization Larry Gamma Three."

I glared at Larry. "You should be ashamed of yourself, Larry."

Larry tried to look innocent. "No one saw a thing. You can't prove anything."

Suddenly, Jadzia Dax interrupted us. "Captain Larrykins, there's an unidentified ship on long range sensors. "

"On screen," Larry rumbled in his most heroic style.

I saw a familiar looking triangular shaped ship on the viewscreen.

"An Imperial Star Destroyer, Larry?"

"You borrowed Tatooine, Dad. Why can't I borrow, too?"

"Larry, it's just that---"

Suddenly, Lieutenant Uhuru interrupted. "We're being hailed, Captain Sweetie."

A familiar black helmet and cape appeared and I heard the sonorous voice of James Earl Jones. "Join me on the dark side, Larry. Together we can rule the Universe."

"Never, Darth Vader. I stand for truth, justice and the vorlag way."

Darth and I replied in unison. "You're sitting down, Larry."

Before Larry could reply, Darth Vader dropped a bombshell. "I am your father, Larry."

With that Darth Vader removed his helmet to reveal the face of....

"LASSIE? You cast Lassie as your father in this fanfic, Larry." I couldn't believe it.

Larry looked crushed. "I remembered how you said you liked the way Sergio Leone had cast sweet, compassionate dependable Henry Fonda as the merciless, cold blooded killer in Once Upon A Time In The West. I thought you'd like it."

Larry looked so despondent that I decided I'd better lighten up a little. "It's not bad, Larry. Of course, Lassie really was a guy dog, now that I think of it."

Before I could continue, a huge explosion rocked the ship. All of the crew-ladies leaned to the right and then to the left to signify this.

Larry sprang into action. "Fire at will."

Before anyone could react, I yelled. "No Larry. That's an old joke."

Larry looked disgusted but yelled, "Evasion pattern alpha. Fire phasers."

The two ships traded fire, but it seemed the good ship Who Let The Vorlags Out (Woof, Woof) was taking a beating.

Suddenly Jadzia Dax yelled to Larry. "Captain Larry dear, the shields are down. We have damage on all decks, and the structural integrity fields are failing."

Larry turned to me. "Dad, can you give me a little help here?"

I shook my head. "Larry, never, never write yourself into a corner you can't write yourself out of. What else could go wrong with this fanfic?"

In answer, the doors to the turbolift opened and in came Henry Fonda, firing his Colt .45. I threw myself down and the red-shirted security guards returned fire. I crawled to Larry.

"You have Henry Frelling Fonda shooting at us?"

Larry cringed. "Well, sort of."

I looked back up to see Jimmy Stewart with a Winchester backing up Henry Fonda. Before I got my head down a burst of automatic weapons fire roared in the confined spaces of the bridge. I quickly glanced towards the turbolift door.

"Tom Hanks? Tom Hanks in his Saving Private Ryan Ranger uniform is shooting at me in my own fanfic? Larry, it can't get worse than this."

Suddenly, a shattering blast erupted. I looked up to see Mother Teresa reloading her sawed off shotgun.

"We don't get the Dalai Lama throwing grenades, do we, Larry?" I yelled.

"Who's he?" Larry replied.

Suddenly the voice of Majel Barrett cut in over the sound of the firefight on the bridge and the pounding the ship was taking from the Star Destroyer.

"The ship's structural integrity fields will fail in three minutes. To say good bye to the computer, press one. To recycle a plot, press two. To reduce a vorlag's allowance, press three. To request assistance, please write to our customer assistance branch in the Horse Head Nebula."

"Dad, I have writer's block." Larry whimpered.

I put down the customer assistance form I'd been filling out. "Computer, initiate emergency beam out of all Starfleet personnel, vorlags and fanfic writers."

Again, I heard Majel Barret's voice. "Thank you for using Starfleet Computers. Your business is important to us. Please hold for the next available operator."

I screamed above the din. "Give us an operator now! Emergency override Larry Gamma Three."

"Please state your precise destination."

Larry screamed. "The nearest ship. That's where we want to go."

I pushed Larry's head down just as the transporters started to whine. "The nearest FRIENDLY ship, dammit, computer."

The last thing I heard was. "Use of obscenities on Starfleet systems is improper communications procedure and is...."

The tingling of the transporter stopped and I found myself and I found myself looking down the barrel of flintlock pistol held by Mel Gibson.

"Don't move Mr. Midshipman Dad. We're dangerous mutineers here." Mel giggled and pointed the gun to his own head.

I looked around me and saw we were on an eighteenth century sailing ship. It all started to make sense to me. Okay, as much sense as anything Larry does ever makes.

"Mel Gibson's version of Mutiny on the Bounty, Larry?"

"He's Australian," said our abashed vorlag.

"Silence!" Mel screamed. "Captain Larry, I'm taking over the ship from you. We'll have no more of you, Captain Larry Bligh."

I decided to try to talk our way out of this. After all, how bad a captain could Larry be?

"Now just a microt, er, second there, Mr. Christian. Larry isn't a bad captain. I'll bet you guys get all the side of beef pizza and pasta with whole roast pigs you can eat, right?"

The crewmen, and crew women, I noticed, mumbled their agreement.

"And I've never heard of anyone suggesting a vorlag would hog all the margaritas for himself."

I heard a few encouraging comments from the crew.

"Good 'ole Cap'n Larry. "

"'E's a right gentleman, 'e is."

I thought I had them. "And I bet Captain Larry never insisted you make your beds or pick your clothes up off the floor, either?" At the thought of that, I glared at Larry.

The crew agreed while Larry hung his head in shame. "So why are you jolly jack tars mutinying against Captain Larry?"

Mr. Christian turned on me. "I'll tell you why. We want to go home." He turned to Larry. "How do we sail to Australia from here, Captain Larry?"

Larry grinned in triumph. "It's a trick question. You can't sail to Australia from here. Australia is one of those little European countries that's surrounded by other little countries. "

I closed my eyes and hung my head. "Austria, Larry. That's Austria."

Before I could reason further with the mutineers, they roughly threw Larry and I into a longboat and then gently helped the Starfleet crew ladies into the boat.

I stared up at the face of Fletcher Christian. "You can't do this. We have no supplies."

Mr. Christian looked puzzled. "You have food, water, charts, a compass and a sextant. What more do you need?"

"Sun block!" I screamed. "Have you ever seen so much exposed flesh in your life? Especially now that the ladies are starting to,..TOPLESS SUNBATHE!"

The ladies of the good ship Who Let The Vorlags Out (Woof, Woof) were starting to spread out beach towels and make themselves comfortable on the longboat.

"Larry, stop this. Do you have any idea what UCSBmom will do if she ever finds out I was in a fanfic with topless sunbathing in it? And stop singing the theme from the Love Boat."

A shower of sun block tubes dropped from the deck of the Bounty and I looked up to see two familiar faces. "You two! See if I ever write a fanfic about a Sebacean pirate or one of Rygel's ex-wives now! You'll regret this."

They just laughed and said they'd be recurring characters on Farscape before Larry could find north on his compass.

I turned to Larry. "You really have no idea how to navigate? Didn't you read the entire Bounty Trilogy? Bligh sailed the longboat across thousands of miles of uncharted seas until he got to Portuguese Timor."

"I'm sorry, Dad. I meant to read Nordhoff and Hall, but I got hungry and just grabbed the first movie I found instead. "

"Okay, Lar. You start swabbing the ladies backs down with the sun block. I have one last thing to try."

Larry spread sun block on his tail and began his work. I reached for my communicator. "Away team to Computer."

Majel Barrett's voice answered again. "Thank you for calling Starfleet Computers. Your business is important to us. We have 45 seconds before the structural integrity fields fail. We will play a selection from Lawrence Welk Does Twisted Sister's Greatest Hits while you wait for an operator. "

"Forget it computer. Look we have to be beamed to Earth, in the year 2000. Okay?"

The computer stalled for a few seconds. "That capability is not within current parameters."

I was ready for that. "Look, Computer, just re-route the plumbing through the deflector shield and it'll work fine. Every time Picard or Janeway get in trouble, the engineers reroute something through the deflector shield and it works fine. Just do it."

I felt the tingling of the transporter. Then I felt a twelve hundred-pound vorlag fall on me.

"Dad! Dad? Are you all right?"

My head spun as I looked around me. "I'm okay, Larry. Except that... MY GOD! My hand is gray, I must have bled to death. "

I sat up and looked around me. Not just my hand, but everything was in shades of gray.

Larry looked apologetic. "Sorry, Dad. I meant to Colorize © this. "

Suddenly everything returned to normal. "Larry, Ted Turner owns colorization. Let's not piss off everyone in the entertainment industry, okay. Where are we, anyway?"

I knew the answer as soon as I heard the line of dialogue from the bottom of the hill we were on.

"Do not shoot. We are your friends. We are the Rurales. You know, the Mexican mounted police."

Before I could stop them, the crew ladies went to the edge of the hill and peered down. Seven of Nine replied. "If you're the Rurales, where are your badges?"

I rushed up and stood looking over the shoulders of Seven and Jadzia Dax, resolutely looking straight ahead at the gold-hatted bandit leader below me. (That's my story and I'm sticking to it.) Gold Hat was absolutely speechless at he bevy of topless beauties before him. He couldn't utter a word.

"Larry, this is terrible. One of the great lines of movie history is about to be lost for all time."

I tried a stage whisper. "Mr. Bedoya. Mr. Bedoya, sir! Your line is "We don't got no badges. We don't need no badges. We don't got to show you no stinkin' badges." And if you could pronounce it "steenkin" , Mr. Bedoya?"

But Alfonso Bedoya just stood there with a silly grin on his face, his movie legend evaporating.

Suddenly the bandidos began to flee and Counselor Troi started bouncing up and down. (Don't even think of asking for a further description.) "It's the Rurales, chasing the bandidos away. Oh, I could kiss every one of those Rurales."

Before Larry and I could change into our charro outfits, Seven of Nine interrupted.

"My Borg ocular implant indicates those aren't Rurales. We are not out of danger yet."

Jadzia Dax muttered, "Your implants ought to get out us out of any danger from males."

I looked at the oncoming horsemen. "Who are those guys?" I murmured. Suddenly it hit me. "Larry! Those are the Atlanta Braves. I knew you shouldn't have pissed Ted Turner off. And John Rocker is leading them. You know how he feels about aliens. We have to get out of here, now."

But how? How was I to get a bevy of topless beauties, all wearing stiletto heels, across the Sierra Madre mountains with a posse of ballplayers who were probably still mad at the Yanks taking the series for the second year in a row? Where was Roger Clemons when you needed him?

Suddenly, Larry interrupted me. "Have a beer, Dad?"

I looked around me. Larry and I were standing on a beach with a cooler of beer on ice at our feet. Larry neatly bit the cap off of a beer bottle and handed an icy Azteca to me.

"Larry, how did you manage this?" I asked.

Larry smiled disarmingly. "It was nothing, Dad. I just re-wrote the fanfic and added a sentence that said, "After many trials and tribulations, the handsome, intelligent, well mannered, brave vorlag got all of his friends to a little nude beach on the Sea of Cortez side of Baja California, just a little north of Cabo San Lucas, where a full cooler of beer and a picnic lunch awaited them." Easy, huh?"

It took a second for the operative words to sink in. "Nude beach?" I looked down to see I had my swimsuit on. Larry was dressed in baggy red shorts, rubber sandals and had somehow turned a shade of mellow yellow.

I stared at him. "You're wearing your baggies, huarache sandals, too, bushy, bushy blonde hairdo, surfin' USA?"

Larry nodded. "Mr. Browder surfs, you know."

I had to tell Larry. "Lar, a bleached blond vorlag, is just so, so..."

"Overdone?" Larry helpfully supplied. He sighed, but resumed his normal shade of brown.

"Excuse me, fellows." I turned to see Counselor Troi waving to us. (I know what you're thinking. No!)

"We're having a game of nude beach volleyball in a few minutes. Can you referee for us, Larry? And bring your friend." She turned back to her friends who were sunning themselves on the beach.

I turned on Larry. "Larry! Do you have any idea what will happen to me if UCSBmom find the words "nude beach volleyball" in a fanfic of mine?"

Larry pulled out a clipboard and started going through the papers on it. "Here it is, Dad, Chapter 27, Genghis Mom. UCSBmom, a mild mannered suburban housewife and mother, becomes Genghis Mom and attaches your extremities to four Honda minivans in this exciting...."

"Larry! NO! That was a rhetorical question. We have to get out of here and get back to my original fanfic." How did I get into these predicaments?

I turned to the Starfleet ladies, who obliged by sitting up and facing me. "Er, em, uh, ladies, Captain Larry has to go on a secret mission. He'll provide transportation to the nearest Starfleet facility for all of you. Now we have to go."

Larry and I turned and found ourselves in Moya's passageways.

"Have you ever met D'Argo, Larry?"

Larry scratched his head. "No, but I do so want to meet all the characters on Farscape. I will meet Aeryn won't I?"

I guess it's no big surprise to anyone who knows Larry, that he has a major crush on Aeryn Sun. Being a polite and honorable vorlag, Larry would never dream of trying to cut in on John, though.

Suddenly D'Argo strode in from another of Moya's passageways. "There you are, you felonious furball." He bellowed, "What have you done with Chiana?"

Larry reacted immediately. He grabbed me under the armpits and held me between D'Argo and him. My translator microbes were starting to cut out and Larry was starting to whine. I had to regain control of the situation.

"Larry! Put me down and face D'Argo like a vorlag. You have Chiana back at your lair in the mountains. You've come to demand ransom from D'Argo. You are the toughest, meanest, nastiest vorlag in creation and you fear no Luxan. Right?"

"No I'm not, Dad. I'm just pretending to be mean because that's what people see vorlags as. I'm a very peaceful vorlag, actually. What's my motivation, Dad?"

Fanfic characters!

D'Argo drew his qualta blade and swung it in a vicious arc. He barely missed taking my head off. "D'Argo! Watch it. This is supposed to be a 'shippy and occasionally funny fanfic."

My translator microbes couldn't handle anything D'Argo was bellowing. Larry was running as fast as he could from D'Argo. Unfortunately, vorlags don't run very well on their hind legs alone if they're holding a human in front of them with their forelegs.

"Larry, put me down." Big mistake. Larry did exactly that. Suddenly, I was facing a hyper-raging Luxan all by myself. I managed to grab Larry's tail as he sped by and hung on for dear life.

"Larry! Get us out of here."

"I thought you wanted to do the fanfic writing, Dad." Was that a note of triumph in Larry's voice?

"Larry!"

We were headed straight for a dead end in one of Moya's corridors. D'Argo was right behind us.

Suddenly, we burst out of Moya into a sea of grass. From horizon to horizon there was nothing but gently waving grass. I pulled myself up on Larry's back.

"Larry, where are we?"

"Guess, Dad. What do you hear?"

Very far off, I could hear a high-pitched voice calling, "Shane. Come back, Shane."

I stared towards the voice. "We're in the Old West? Larry, that's not Brandon de Wilde. It's Julia Roberts in her Erin Brockavitch dress. With my luck, she wants to sue me for copyright infringement, or contaminating the ground water of Tatooine with vorlag pee."

Larry put on a burst of speed and we soon left her behind. Suddenly, ahead, I saw an elderly man holding a rifle. Larry stopped next to him.

"Are you Dances With Vorlags?" The man asked.

Before I could say anything, Larry replied, "He sure is. The one and only."

He tossed me his rifle. "This is for you. I'm to tell you that the buffalo are coming."

I looked at the man. "Who are you, exactly, and what are you doing in this fanfic?"

The man frowned. "I'm Graham Greene, dead English novelist. Some amateur fanfic writer got me confused with Graham Greene, the Native American actor. Now if you will excuse me, I must be off. And I had better not see any of my work showing up as your own, Dad. I may be dead, but my literary estate has lawyers that'll make your head spin."

Larry and I made a great show of looking innocent and unconcerned. As Graham Greene walked off, I examined the rifle.

"Very good, Larry, and very historically accurate. A .50 caliber Henry brass framed repeater, model 1862." Suddenly, something Mr. Greene had said penetrated.

"The buffaloes are coming?"

Suddenly, I could hear a muted roar, but one that was getting louder. I could feel the earth begin to tremble and I could see dust rising on the horizon.

"Larry? What do you think you're doing in this fanfic?"

"We're hunting buffalo, Dad. I saw part of this movie with Kevin Costner , I would have seen it all, but I got hungry, and had to go the refrigerator. Was Mom saving that turkey for a special occasion or something? I sure hope not. But anyway....

I screamed at Larry. "Did you miss the actual buffalo hunt part of the movie?"

"Yes, but don't worry, Dad. I've seen buffalo before. They're all much smaller than I am, and only eleven can be on the field at once."

"Larry! That was the Buffalo Bills football team we were watching. Those are real buffaloes."

I pointed to a huge rampaging mass of unstoppable buffalo fury bearing down on us.

"Oh bother." Said Larry, in a very small voice.

I screamed at Larry. "We have to get out of here, right now. Run, Larry, run."

Larry took off and soon was keeping pace a few hundred feet ahead of the heard of stampeding buffaloes. I hung on for dear life, but Larry turned and looked back at me to ask a question. "Aren't you supposed to shoot them, Dad?"

"If it's all the same to you, Lar, I'd just as soon not antagonize them. Okay? And keep your eyes on the road."

As Larry turned his head straight ahead, I saw our salvation. Up ahead was a lake. Sure enough, in a few seconds, the buffalo herd was slowing down and they were starting to spread out around the lake for a drink. In a few minutes there were nothing around me but peaceful buffaloes.

Larry checked his wristwatch. "We have to hurry, Dad. It's almost time for the next exciting episode of Dad Cassidy and the Sundance Vorlag."

"Larry, that wristwatch is an anachronism."

Larry turned and gave me a puzzled look. "No it isn't. It's a Timex."

One of the buffaloes walked up to Larry. "Yo, Larry. Got a gig, I see. A speaking part this time?"

"Not just a speaking part, I'm a main character. This is the fanfic writer, Mr. UCSBdad. Dad, this is my friend, Edward."

I stared at Edward. "Er, hello, Edward. How are you."

"Can't complain. But all we buffalo ever seem to get is these stampede gigs. The money's okay, but I want to stretch myself as an artist. By the way, weren't you supposed to shoot us?"

I decided I'd talk to Larry later about the money these buffalo were getting paid. At his rate, his allowance would be spent through the next century. I slowly worked the lever action of the rifle and withdrew a blank cartridge. "Maybe next time I will shoot." I said, giving Larry a significant look.

Edward smiled. "At least we missed Sam's dying buffalo shtick. I can't understand how so much ham got into that buffalo. And the way he over-acts when he brings the little one in and tells him he's the buffalo of the herd now, it's pathetic."

I nodded to Edward. "We have to be going now, Edward. I have to have a little talk with Larry about finances."

Edward waved at me. "Larry, we're having a 5k fun run next week for charity. You up for it?"

"Sure. I'll have my people call your people. We'll do lunch." Replied Larry.

I patted Larry on the head as we rode off. "I feel like Doctor Frankenstein. I've created an entertainment conglomerate."

We rode off, but before I could ask Larry how much the services of a buffalo herd at scale was going to cost me, we came over a hill and saw three riders headed for us. They stopped and called to us.

"Will you give us a road, Marshall?"

I recognized the line and was prepared to give him the entire Interstate Highway system. Larry beat me to it.

"I have no quarrel with you two, but I'm taking you in, Lucky Ned Pepper." He growled in his best Duke manner.

The three men laughed. "Bold words for a fat old man, riding an overgrown dog." Cried Lucky Ned Pepper.

I considered that. "Okay, I might need to spend a little more time in the gym....'

Larry didn't consider that. "Overgrown dog? Fill your hands you sonsabitches!"

Larry charged them and they charged us. I bounced up and down on top of Larry and tried to get a shot off. One of the bandits fell, but I think he was a stuntman. As we passed between the remaining bandits, I noticed Larry kept going.

"Larry." I yelled in his ear. "Aren't we supposed to turn around and charge them again?"

"Look behind us, Dad."

When you're riding a vorlag through a fanfic, never look back. You never know what's catching up. Behind us was a huge green monster, with more fangs and claws than even Larry, wearing a three-piece suit and carrying a pigskin briefcase.

"Larry, what the Hell is that thing. Why did you write him into this fic?"

"I didn't. That's a tyrannosaurus lex. He's the lawyer version of the thunder lizard. I think Mr. Spielberg is angry with me for using Mr. Hanks in the copyrighted characters and situations of Saving Private Ryan."

I looked back again. Big mistake. The lizard was almost on top of us.

"Larry! Get us out of...."

"....here"

I sat back in the passenger seat of the car. I looked behind us and saw no dinosaurs of any sort.

"Thank God, Larry. But, I'm not forgetting that you got us into that to begin with, young vorlag."

I looked closer at the car. "A '66 Mustang Fastback, dark green. Very, very cool, Lar. I had a '67, and it was a lighter shade of green... Hey, from the sound of it you have the big engine in it."

Suddenly we turned onto Sutter Street and looked to see Alcatraz Island ahead of us. "Hey. We're in San Francisco, Larry. We're almost home."

Suddenly the engine roared and the car narrowly missed a Muni bus.

"Larry, be careful!"

A familiar nose poked up from the back seat. "I'm not driving anymore, Dad."

I looked over to the driver's seat at the furry creature behind the wheel. He turned and smiled and held out his paw.

"I'm Barry, the Razor Tooth Stunt Driver. I'll be taking over for this next little bit, Dad."

We roared over the China Basin Bridge and past Pac Bell Park. Suddenly I knew what we were doing.

"Larry. We're doing the chase scene from Bullit? " I yelled over the roar of the engine. "Do you think one of us is Steve McQueen?"

Larry was lying on the floor in the back. "I thought it would be cool, but now I think I'm going to be carsick."

We turned right onto Herb Caen Way and as we sped towards Fisherman's Wharf, I saw the Bay on my left. Suddenly, we spun out in Jack London Square and fishtailed around a corner, almost plowing through a Dragon Dance in Chinatown. We made a quick left turn into Golden Gate Park. After nearly running over a feral cat, we turned south on the Pacific Coast Highway. Ahead of me I could see the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge.

"No!" I screamed. "Not Doyle Drive at rush hour. Anything but that!"

The driver turned right, with the brakes screaming. Well, it might have been one of the passengers screaming. Ahead of us was....

"Lombard Street? No, we are not going down the crookedest street in the world at full speed. Help. Help." But it did no good.

Larry raised his head above the back of my seat. "Dad, you might appreciate this next part. Look to your right."

To my right I saw a young mother lose her baby carriage. The carriage with her terrified infant inside it started rolling down the steps of Lombard Street. The mother shrieked and dashed after her child.

I nodded to Larry. "Very Sergei Einstein, Lar. I just hope we don't see the rest of the...."

I should have saved my breath. Ahead of us was a giant gray battleship, filled with revolutionary sailors, flying the red flag. Just as we turned, the ship fired a full salvo.

Suddenly I saw my salvation. "Stop. STOP! STOP DAMMIT!"

The car stopped and Larry was once again in the driver's seat. "Yes, Dad?"

"Pull over here and park, Larry."

"I can't, Dad. There's no place to park."

I glared at Larry. "Of course there's no place to park, Larry. This is San Francisco. Just double park."

Larry looked uncertain. "There's no place to double park, either, Dad."

"Of course there's no place to double park, Larry. This is San Francisco. Just triple park."

I got out of the car and headed for the sidewalk. Larry followed. "Dad, the meter maids are towing our car."

"Of course they're towing our car, Larry, this is San Francisco." I snapped.

"Where are we, Dad?"

"Red's Java House, Larry. I'm going to have a cold beer and a double cheeseburger and relax and calm my nerves."

I walked in and smiled at the waitress. "A Bud and a double cheeseburger, please."

Larry smiled. "I'll have the same, please."

The waitress stared at Larry. "I'll need some ID, young vorlag."

Larry made a show of looking through his wallet. I spoke up. "My friend will have a five gallon glass of lemonade, if you don't mind."

Before the waitress left, Larry spoke up. "Dad, do I just get one little double cheeseburger?"

Five minutes later we walked out to sit in the warm San Francisco sunshine (this being my fanfic). Behind us were two waiters carrying Larry's burgers. We sat down with the eclectic mix of lawyers, punk rockers, bike messengers, financial district types, dot commies and dockworkers that frequent Red's. One nice thing about San Francisco, hardly anyone ever notices Larry, except for the tourists.

I relaxed and sipped my beer.

"Dad? There's some sort of beast wrapping its tentacles around the Ferry Building."

I looked to the north. "The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms, Larry. That's what we have a National Guard for."

Larry wasn't ready to give up. "There's a fifty foot tall ape climbing the Transamerica Pyramid with a blonde in his paw, Dad."

"Fay Wray is one tough lady, Larry. I have every confidence she'll be okay."

"Dad, there's a fire breathing monster attacking a Bay Area Rapid Transit train."

I smiled at Larry. "Well, don't tell anyone. All the BART riders will want the improved service."

Larry was getting worried, now. "Dad, there's a group of Midwest tourists freezing to death on Russian Hill. They thought they could wear shorts in San Francisco in July."

"Larry, anyone who doesn't heed Mark Twain's famous dictum, "The coldest winter I ever spent was one summer in San Francisco," deserves what they get. Drink your lemonade, Larry."

Larry stood up. "Dad, do you know what I think?"

A gruff voice from behind Larry answered. "I know what you're thinking, punk. Did I shoot five times or six? Seeing as how this is a .44 Magnum and will just naturally blow your head clean off, you have to ask yourself a question, punk. 'Do I feel lucky today?' Well, punk. Do you feel lucky today?"

Larry quickly sat back down. I smiled at the newcomer. "Hi, Harry. Could you handle this stuff for me? I'm a little pressed for time." I waved vaguely at the wholesale destruction in the City by the Bay.

Harry just smiled.

As Harry walked by me, I noticed a man with him. He was dressed in a leather SFPD uniform and red cowboy boots. He looked somehow familiar.

"New partner, Harry?" I inquired.

Harry smiled again. "Another one, Dad. Maybe he'll work out."

I sipped my beer as Harry roared to the various perps, "Go ahead, make my day."

As Harry cleaned up Baghdad by the Bay, I left with Larry. Soon we were back on Moya.

"Okay, Larry. This next part stars you and Zhaan and Rygel. You're trying to ransom Pip, and playing John, Aeryn and the rest of Moya's crew off against Scorpius. Zhaan appeals to your better nature, which doesn't work, of course. Rygel tries to bribe you, intending to con you instead. I have some great lines for the two of you. You're not afraid of either Zhaan or Rygel are you?"

Larry looked embarrassed. "I'm not a fraidy vorlag, Dad. I'm just a peaceful and very friendly vorlag, as everyone knows."

"Bull dren!" Screeched a familiar voice.

"Come on out, Rygel. I want you to meet Larry. You'll like him."

"I'm staying in the smallest ducts of Moya until that critter leaves." Rygel shouted down to us.

I finally located him peering down on us from behind a grille set in the ceiling high above us. Rygel made a rude gesture and left.

"Okay, Lar. No problemo, Big Guy. Zhaan can handle the whole thing." I raised my voice. "And we'll take Zhaan someplace nice for dinner, too."

That didn't attract our absent Dominar, but it raised Larry's spirits. Suddenly, I looked around. Rygel wasn't the only character who was missing. Where was Zhaan? Then, a tall, attractive blonde entered the room.

"Oh, hello, Dad, Larry. I hope I'm not late. I had to do so much to get ready for this fanfic."

I looked closely at the woman. I had a sudden flash of insight.

"Larry! What's going on here." You'd be surprised how often my sudden flashes of insight involved a vorlag these days.

Larry ignored me. "Are we ready, Zhaan?"

I grabbed Larry by the shoulder. "What is going on here? Is that Zhaan?"

Zhaan interrupted. "Of course it is, Dad. It's me. I just have on this blonde wig, my skin has been dyed a pinkish shade and I have on this little black dress from someone named Dior. I wonder if that Dior wants her dress back after the fanfic?"

I glared at Larry. "A Dior? How much, Larry?"

Larry ignored me again. He adjusted the bow tie of his tuxedo and took Zhaan by the arm. "Come, my dear Zhaan." The two disappeared through a door that opened in Moya. I hurried after them. As the door closed behind us I heard Larry declare, "We are off to the Casino Royale."

On the other side of the door was a European Casino straight out of the 1930s. Slinky women in long dresses and bobbed hair peered over their cigarette holders at us. Men with brylcreamed hair ordered champagne cocktails and cigarette girls abounded as well as cocktail waitresses. I took a quick peek at the games of chance and decided we were now high rollers. Well, I was a high roller and by extension, so was Larry's allowance.

I caught up with Larry and Zhaan. "Larry, we have to talk. Now!"

Larry ignored me and sat at a small table in the back of the casino. Zhaan draped an arm over Larry and started scratching behind his ears. I recognized the bearded man on the other side of the table.

"Sorry for the interruption, I had a spot of bother to attend to in the Balkans. All fixed now, though," said Larry in a surprisingly urbane British accent.

The bearded man gestured to the pile in front of Larry. "You have me almost beaten, Mister....?"

Larry paused for effect. "Bond." He waited for just a beat. "Larry Bond, Dr. No Crais. And yes, I do seem to be somewhat ahead tonight."

That was an understatement. The table in front of Larry was piled high with chips, stacks every currency imaginable, gold coins, gems, jewelry, the deed to Monaco, and a gift certificate from Larry's favorite pizzeria.

Dr. No Crais smiled evilly. "But I still have the one thing you want most of all, don't I, Mr. Bond?" He held up a large leather bound folder and showed it to Larry. Dr. No Crais snapped it closed before I could see what was inside.

"Yes, I see I have your interest, Mr. Bond. Shall we bet all I have left for all you have? It seems fair to me."

I elbowed a cocktail waitress out of the way. I turned to her. "I don't care what kind of I.D. Larry showed, he gets nothing but lemonade, capiche?" She gave me a nasty look, but turned away before delivering Larry his Azteca.

Then I leaned over and whispered in Larry's ear. "Larry, do you have any idea how much money your have now? You won't need an allowance. You can buy all the pizza you want. You can live like a king on your own island in the Caribbean. Or, you can buy a modest house in the Silicon Valley. "

Larry smiled confidently at me and at Dr. No Crais. "I think another hand is in order."

A crowd had gathered around our table. Dr. No Crais was sweating bullets. The dealer ordered a new deck of cards. There was dead silence in the casino as Larry took out a gold cigarette case and selected a hand rolled Bulgarian and Virginia tobacco cigarette, made especially for Larry at a little shop in Des Moines. Larry tapped it on his wristwatch and put the cigarette in his mouth. Zhaan smiled and lit it with a gold cigarette lighter with "Larry" picked out in diamonds. Larry inhaled and almost fell off his chair coughing.

"Dad! That's terrible. Why do you humans smoke those things? I thought I'd look cool."

"Let that be a lesson to you, young vorlag." I replied.

The dealer dealt one card to Larry and one to Dr. No Crais. Then, another one to Larry and to Dr. No Crais.

Larry smiled lazily and flipped his cards over. "Twenty one. I win."

Dr. No Crais was in shock as Larry took the leather folder from the Doctor's nerveless hands. Larry opened the folder.

"Yes, Dad. An autographed color photo of Claudia Black. Easily worth more than these few trifles I bet to win this."

Dr. No Crais sobbed. "It's the photo of her in her Peacekeeper armor, with her hair back in a long pigtail. She just looks so damned butch." Dr. No Crais dissolved in tears.

Larry stood up. Before I could stop him, he generously tipped the staff with his entire winnings, except for the pizza gift certificate and the photo of Her Claudianess.

Suddenly, Dr. No Crais pulled himself together. "You'll never leave here alive with that photo, Mr. Bond."

Suddenly hundreds of black clad kung fu extras appeared, each one with English subtitles across their chests.

"Kill the running dog Yankee imperialists," I read, over the din of their yelling.

"Larry, have you figured out how to get us out of this?" I yelled.

Larry smiled. "This is a special levitating cigarette case, provided by Miss Q. Just one of her many useful high- tech gadgets, Dad."

Larry pushed one of the diamonds, tucked Our Beloved Raven Haired Goddess's photo in his tux and picked Zhaan and I up in one arm as we sailed out of the reach of Crais's minions.

"Miss Q, Larry? I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"What could go wrong, Dad?" Larry asked as he smashed through the ceiling of the casino.

Almost immediately, Larry smashed into another ceiling.

"Larry, " I asked. "How big is this casino?"

"Dad, will you get that phone?" Asked the punch drunk vorlag

"Larry!" I yelled as the hardheaded vorlag slammed through another ceiling.

"Oh, hi, Dad. I think the casino has one floor, but the hotel on top of it has 55 floors."

Before we could smash through anything else, I managed to start pushing Larry, Zhaan and myself along the top of a hallway towards a window. Just as we got there, Crais's villainous myrmidons appeared at the other end of the hall.

"Kill the stinking capitalist roaders!" Said the subtitle on the chest of their leader. They rushed down the hallway toward us.

I found the window was locked and poor Larry was too stunned to break it down. I turned to Zhaan.

"Zhaan! Rub Larry behind his ears, quickly."

While Zhaan rubbed, I turned Larry broadside to the window. As soon as Larry's poor brain noticed his he was being scratched behind the ears, his tail started wagging and broke the window. I pushed us out the window and we continued to rise. I looked at the levitating cigarette case Larry still held.

"Larry, how do we get it to set us down?"

Larry started fumbling with the diamonds. "You push two of the diamonds, Dad. I think I remember which ones."

"No, Larry!" I screamed. We were above the top of the hotel now, more that 55 stories above the ground.

"Just relax, Larry. Take your time. We want to float down slowly, okay?" I patted Larry on the shoulder.

Suddenly a roaring filled my ears and I looked behind us to see an airliner heading straight for us. At the last minute they pulled up, but a brilliant ruby beam shot out of the airplane's nose. I felt the scorching heat and as the plane passed I saw the blue-starred band around the fuselage and the markings, "SACC. Peace Is Our Profession. War Is Just A Hobby."

I screamed. "I knew Oboe Crazy would never forgive me for killing off John Crichton in that fanfic. "

Suddenly the levitating cigarette case stopped levitating and we plunged to the ground and....

....landed in front row theater seats.

A dark, furry figure in the dark next to me nudged my shoulder. "Dad, I really want to show you my full range of artistic expression, okay?" Then Larry was gone.

Just in front of me the orchestra was tuning up. Then the overture began. Tchaikowski? The Nut Cracker? Suddenly I heard the opening of The Waltz of the Flowers as the stage lights went up. Out came a corps de ballet of vorlags, toe dancing across the stage in tutus. They began with a pirouette, then a pas de chat and then to a series of chaine turns. Suddenly Zhaan came out on stage, now back in her normal bald and blue state. It came to me that Zhaan was now dancing the part of Clara. Suddenly, Larry came on stage dressed in the grenadier cap and red coat of the nutcracker. He entered with a grande jete, seeming to hang in the air for minutes.

Larry put his arms around Zhaan, gazed into her eyes and sneezed a vorlag sized sneeze.

"OHMYGOD! I'm covered with vorlag snot." Sobbed Zhaan. Larry managed to turn his head before letting go with another sneeze that scattered the corps de ballet.

"Uds vorlags hab bery sedsitive nodes. I dink I'b allergic to Zhaan." Snuffled Larry.

I grimaced. "She is a plant, Larry."

"Now you tell me, Dad."

Fortunately, I always carry a vorlag sized handkerchief which I handed to Zhaan.

"We'll catch you later, Blue. I'll work on the plot a little bit."

Zhaan smiled at me. "Perhaps I could make something up in my lab for Larry. He looks sick."

I thought about it. "Not this time, Zhaan. I think I'll just get Lar a pizza and a lemonade."

I headed for John's cell with Larry in tow. "Larry, can you quit ad libbing with the fanfic? I had a nice 'shippy fanfic in mind, a little John and Aeryn cuddling, a little humor and some action adventure."

Larry lowered his head. "Sorry Dad."

"Now, Larry, this is the grand finale. John and Aeryn corner you, but you see how two very different people have learned to accept each other and even love each other. You hand over Pip to them and leave a changed vorlag."

We arrived at John's cell. "John, it's me, Dad. I brought Larry and we're ready for your input on the fanfic. Do you know where Aeryn is?"

I entered the cell. John knew exactly where Aeryn was. She was lying on top of him, kissing him passionately. Without breaking his lip lock, John tossed a tee shirt at me and gestured to the door. Aeryn gestured, too. I pushed Larry out of the cell before he saw something he was too young to see.

"Dad, what was that gesture Aeryn made to us with her finger?" Larry asked.

"She was saying she thinks our fanfic is number one, Larry."

Larry smiled and I barely got out of the way of his tail.

"In that case, Dad, we need to go somewhere."

"Larry, I'm not...."

"....sure about this." I squinted through the sights of my rifle and squeezed off a shot at the robed figure in the desert below me. I looked at the rifle.

"Very good, Larry."

The furry figure in a blue capote and white kepi next to me fired his rifle and turned to me. "Larry is next to me, Dad."

I looked beyond the vorlag next to me, and sure enough, Larry was on the other side. Another vorlag was on the other side of Larry. Everyone else appeared to be human. We were all standing on a firing step in a walled fort in the middle of a desert.

"Nice historical accuracy, Larry. Using an 8 mm. 1885 Lebel rifle."

Larry smiled at the compliment. "I'm having a bit of a problem with my Havelock, though, Dad."

"Good, Larry. Using authentic nineteenth century military terminology adds accuracy to your fanfic."

"Yeah, Dad, but the hanky on the back of my hat is blowing in my eyes, too."

I decided not to pursue the issue. "Larry, how did we end up at Fort Zinderneuf?"

With no thumbs, Larry and his friends were having trouble working the bolts of their rifles. Larry ducked down and tried to work the bolt. Unfortunately, he jammed his bayonet into the butt of the vorlag next to me. The injured vorlag jumped and came down on a broken board on the firing platform. The end of the board flew up and hit Larry between the legs. Larry bent over and his tail slapped the vorlag on the other side of him. That vorlag kicked Larry in the knee. Larry lifted his leg off the ground and held his injured knee. Then Larry turned and slammed the butt of his rifle on the foot of the third vorlag. The third vorlag poked poor Larry in the eye. Larry jumped back and just missed the vorlag next to me. Larry's kepi had fallen off his head and both vorlags bent down to get it, their heads cracking together.

"Larry!" I cried. "Knock it off. You guys are going to hurt yourselves. Who are these other vorlags, Lar?"

Larry looked embarrassed. "Sorry, Dad. Somehow this happens every time I get together with my brothers."

I knew what was coming but couldn't stop myself. "Brothers?"

"Sure, Dad. This is my brother Moe and the one next to you is Curly."

I knew I didn't want to go any farther with this. "So what are we doing at Fort Zinderneuf, Larry?"

"I have to give something back to the Legionnaire on the other side of you, Dad." Larry squeezed by me and tapped the other Legionnaire on the shoulder.

"Yes?" Said a familiar looking blue eyed man.

"Legionnaire John, I have your priceless Blue Water sapphire. You dropped it."

John patted his pocket. "Darned if I didn't. Thanks, Larry."

Suddenly the toughest sergeant in the Foreign Legion leapt onto the firing platform screaming curses at all and sundry.

"What is zis?" Bellowed Sergeant Sun. " Un petite coffee break from the rigors of la bataille? And 'oo gave you permission to wear ze loud shirt of Hawaii, Legionnaire Dad?"

I quickly went back to shooting, noting that the rifle was again loaded with blanks.

Sergeant Sun glared at Legionnaire John. "Et vous, Jean. W'at are you doing the standing around for?"

John smiled. "I got you a little present, Sergeant Sun." He held out the Blue Water. "It matches your beautiful blue eyes."

Sergeant Sun looked very sternly at John and then broke into song with the Three Vorlags doing backup.

Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait, ni le mal
Tout ça m'est bien égal
Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
C'est payé, balayé, oublié
Je me fous du passé

Avec mes souvenirs
J'ai allumé le feu
Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs
Je n'ai plus besoin d'eux
Balayés mes amours
Avec leurs trémolos
Balayés pour toujours
Je repars à zéro

Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait, ni le mal
Tout ça m'est bien égal
Non, rien de rien
Non, je ne regrette rien
Car ma vie
Car mes joies
Aujourd'hui
Ça commence avec toi...

Then Sergeant Sun threw her arms around John and kissed him passionately.

Suddenly the lookout in the tower above us screamed. "Here they come again!"

I looked up at him and decided he didn't look at all Oriental. I looked out into the desert and saw thousands of Tuaregs rushing us.

As the back up singers joined me on the firing line, Larry wrinkled his brow in thought. "Dad, there's something funny about those Tuaregs out there. Aren't they kind of short?"

I put down my rifle. "Now that you mention it, Larry. They do seem sort of.... Wait a minute. Those aren't late nineteenth century desert tribesmen. Those are Jawas. Lucas must be mad at us for borrowing his Star Wars stuff. Open fire."

We blazed away, but the horde of Jawas didn't even slow down.

"W'at is ze mattair wis you peeple?" Stormed Sergeant Sun, breaking her kiss with John. "Can't you see we are trying to do the keesing here? W'at is all the noise, mes enfants?"

"Sorry Sergeant Sun, but we're about to be overrun." I explained.

Aeryn glared at me, then wrapped her arms around John and shoved him against the fort's wall. I one fluid motion she drew her revolver and began shooting. It sounded like one continuous explosion as she fired hundreds, no thousands, of rounds into the oncoming Jawas. In only a few seconds, the Jawas were headed back to Skywalker Ranch where they came from.

Laying her overheated pistol on top of a crenellation, Aeryn nuzzled John's ear. "Those petite dren eaters 'sink zey can 'urt mon brave Jean? Sergeant Sun shows zem ozzerwise, non?"

As Aeryn picked John up and ran towards her quarters, I cocked my kepi at a rakish angle over my eye and....

.....looked at Larry standing by the airplane. To my right, John, dressed in a trenchcoat and fedora, was talking to Aeryn. Aeryn was gorgeous in a tailored suit and a wide brimmed hat.

"Aeryn, it doesn't take much to see that the problems of two little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy mixed up world. You have to get on that plane with Larry. You're what keeps him going. If you don't get on that plane, you'll regret it. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life. And remember, we'll always have Paris."

Aeryn started getting all misty eyed. "John are you totally farbot?"

They stared at each other for a microt and then turned to Larry and said in unison. "Bye, Larry. Have fun in Lisbon."

Aeryn headed back toward the terminal. John hurried after her. "Honey, aren't we supposed to head for the Free French garrison at Brazzaville?"

Aeryn snorted in derision. "No way. I'm going to kick that Major Strasser all the way back to the Third Reich."

I walked up the boarding ramp to see a crestfallen Larry. "Well, I'll ride along with you to Lisbon, Larry. Maybe we can catch a flight to the twenty first century."

Larry turned to the stewardess in the doorway. "What's the in-flight meal, Miss?"

She smiled at Larry. "We have a nice bag of peanuts for each passenger, Sir."

Larry and I were on the ground and headed across the airfield in no time. It was my cue. "Larry, this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"Dad, I'm hungry."

"So what's new, Larry? You're always...."

"....hungry.

We had walked out of the dark of the Casablanca night into bright sunshine. I stopped to take a look around me.

"A tropical climate and Spanish colonial architecture, Larry. We just might be in Mexico. If so, we're practically home."

Larry stopped at an outdoor restaurant. "Look, Dad. Someone's left some food and, I think, a couple of beers on the table."

As Larry reached for the beer bottle, it exploded just as the crack of a rifle shot reached us. We dove behind a pillar where a familiar raven-haired gunslinger was also taking cover.

"Hi boys, I haven't seen you two since Butch and I left the Hole-in-the-Wall." Aeryn Sundance said as she calmly reloaded her pistols.

"Hi Sundance." Larry and I said in unison.

"Scuse me, I have to give Butch some covering fire." Aeryn leaned out from behind the pillar and started dropping Spanish speaking Peacekeepers left and right, firing both pistols at once.

"Wow." Said Larry, in awe. "Aeryn has shot twenty three Peacekeepers with her two six-shooters. And she can rub behind a guy's ears like nobody's business."

Across the square came Butch, riding between two horses. As he got to the open air restaurant he nimbly let go of the horses and slid behind the pillar with Sundance. All without getting so much as a scratch, Lauren!

He grinned at his companion. "You call that covering me?"

Aeryn grinned back. "You call that running?"

The four of us ducked inside. Butch put an arm around Aeryn's waist and pulled her close. They began a long, passionate kiss, broken by more gunfire.

I looked at Larry. "And people talk about Newman and Redford. Let's see them do that scene. Larry and I give this one thumb up and one paw up."

Larry smiled and lifted his paw. No, the one on his front leg.

Larry approached the two lovers. "Butch, Sundance, why don't you two sneak out the back and Dad and I will go out the front door and distract the Peacekeepers."

"Sounds fine with us." They said in unison as they snuck out the back undetected. I noticed Sundance take Butch's hand.

"Larry! Did you see the end of this movie?"

"Not really, Dad. But everyone knows that they don't kill off the heroes in Hollywood."

As Larry rushed through the doorway, taking me with him, I screamed. "And you think we're the heroes?"

I suddenly froze in place and waited for the crash of the bullets. I saw everything turn sepia. Then I heard the word, "Tiro!" followed by a blast of rifle fire.

"Larry, I can barely move and I can just barely talk. What happened?"

"Blanks, Dad. Just watch and listen."

A very deep throated version of "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head" began as the credits rolled.

"Not much Dad. We're already up to:

"Look, Dad. You're in the credits."

"Larry, can we go now? It's still pitch black in here."

"Pitch Black, Dad?"

"Not now, Larry. Can we just leave?"

I started walking, but had trouble finding my way. I put out my hand and felt a rough stone wall. Then I froze. I heard German voices and the unmistakable sound of zither music.

"Larry! What did Mr. Greene tell you?"

"Tell me? Where did the plot from Male From Home come from?"

"All right, Lar. No need to get snippy."

Suddenly, someone was putting a strap of some sort over my shoulder.

"What's this, Lar?"

"A little surprise for you, Dad. This fanfic has been mostly been about me, so I wanted to do something for you."

I reached down and felt the shape of the guitar that I knew was in the back of my closet at home. Then I heard the drum and bass introduction I knew so well. The stage lights started to come up and I looked behind me and saw Larry, playing drums, twirling the sticks around between his thumbs and forefingers.

"It's so easy, Dad. I just wrote myself as having opposable thumbs and there they were." Larry turned and pointed to the sign above the stage.

In the glow of the stage lights, I could just make out a drop dead gorgeous raven-haired cheerleader with magnificent eyes and a killer smile. She was leaning against her quarterback boyfriend. As the song began, she turned and looked into his eyes. Blue eyes meeting blue eyes.

Then Charles Hardin Holley began to sing.

"I love you, Aeryn Sun,

With a love so rare and true,

Oh, Aeryn, my Aeryn Sun,

Aeryn Sun,

Well, I love you gal and I want you Aeryn Sun"

When Waylon started on lead guitar, I started on rhythm guitar.

Rock on, Larry.

Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, Aeryn Sun.

Deep in the Bitter Root Mountains, the owner of the Flying Moya Ranch watched the love of his life. He checked out her long, trim legs and the most beautiful butt in the Universe covered by a pair of tight black shorts. He walked up behind her and put his arms around her, sliding his hands over her firm stomach. He buried his face in her long raven hair and nuzzled her ear.

"How can the mother of two have such a flat stomach?"

"Sebaceans are superior. " Aeryn laughed.

They stood and watched their two children ride on the back of their guard vorlag. The little boy and girl were loudly demanding that the vorlag run fast, run really fast. But he continued to walk sedately around the back yard.

Finally the vorlag stopped in front of John and Aeryn and the children jumped off.

"Dad, Larry won't run. He's no fun."

John knelt down to talk to his son. "Jack, Larry has been told that you're too young to ride a vorlag when he runs fast. And your sister is even younger. You know better than to ask Larry to run with you."

Jack took the reprimand easily. "Can we watch TV, Dad?"

Aeryn turned and looked in the house. "I think your Uncle Rygel is watching his favorite program, Who Wants To Be As Rich As A Dominar?"

From the house came an outraged scream. "You yotz. Napoleon was first exiled to the island of Elba! No! You deficient human."

Aeryn turned back to her children. "You could play basketball with Uncle D'Argo and Jothee."

Jack and Sunshine turned to look at the two Luxans shooting hoops. "They're too big. They always let us play and let us win. They pick us up so we can drop the ball through the hoop, but we know we're not big enough to play with them."

Sunshine turned to her mother. "Can we use the computer?"

Aeryn looked up at John who shook his head. "Aunt Zhaan is chatting with the some religious leaders in the Middle East. What she's doing is kind of important, kids."

Suddenly Jack smiled. "We can play Prowler Pilot on my play station. I'll be Mommy." Jack took off at a run for his room.

"No, I'll be Mommy." His sister wailed as she ran after him.

John grinned ruefully. "Humans are superior."

Aeryn grinned back at him. "I wouldn't have married one if they weren't."

John walked over to check on the status of the barbecue. "How's it going, Pip?"

"I think we're ready for the first customer." Pip picked up a large steak and threw it to Larry.

Larry looked off into the middle distance until he heard the clatter of a keyboard.

John walked over to check on the status of the barbecue. "How's it going, Pip?"

"I think we're ready for the first customer." Pip picked up a very large steak and threw it to Larry.

Again, Larry looked off into the middle distance until he heard the clatter of a keyboard.

John walked over to check on the status of the barbecue. "How's it going, Pip?"

"I think we're ready for the first customer." Pip picked up a side of beef and threw it to Larry.

Larry smiled and started his dinner.

Larry watched as Aeryn came over to him and started to scratch behind his ears. Larry thought to himself, "She really is very pretty, and not just for a biped, either."

"Larry, you are our friend and our guard vorlag, right?"

Larry nodded.

"And we are happy when you let us know that the children are going outside like you did this morning."

Suddenly, he noticed that Aeryn had stopped scratching behind his ears and had a hold of one ear.

"But if you ever come into our bedroom again without knocking, it'll be a very long time before you see any chocolate ice cream on your dessert plate, young vorlag."

Aeryn's grip on Larry's ear tightened slightly. "And if you ever jump on our bed like that again, well, you won't like what happens."

Larry whimpered. "I didn't see a thing Mrs. Crichton. Nothing."

"I should hope not. It took John twenty minutes to stop laughing so he could.... Never mind what we were doing. Just don't jump on the furniture again, okay, Larry."

Aeryn went back to scratching behind Larry's ears.

"She's more than just pretty," thought Larry.

THE END