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Fic Post! Terns nest there...

Well, huh. I have a WIP I had forgotten about. "Silence of the Hams." Crappy title, pretty funny fic, however. dedra nudged me the other day to finish it (blame thank her), so I pulled it back up, realized there were some errors, fixed those, fleshed out some of the previous chapters, and started watching the movie all over again. And wrote three more chapters yesterday. Should be able to finish it all by tomorrow, I'm TEEMING with ideas. Although I will say that falling asleep to the "Making of Jame Gumb" in the background on the television isn't the best way to wake up fully rested. *shudders with the image of Ed Gein in my head*

For those who may just be coming in, it's written like a screenplay - which personally, I find easier to read. Previous Chapters:

Silence of the Hams

Cast of Characters:
Clarice Starling - Buffy Summers
Dr. Hannibal Lecter - The Mayor
Jack Crawford - Rupert Giles
Jame Gumb - Revealed To Be "Spike" aka William the Bloody
Dr. Fredric Chilton - Principal Snyder
Catherine Martin - Cordelia Chase
Sergeant Boyle - Faith
Frederica Bimmel - Harmony Kendall
Senator Martin - Wesley Wyndam-Pryce
Nerds from the Smithsonian - Jonathon/ Andrew
Ardelia - Willow Rosenberg
Barney the Orderly - Xander Harris
Multiple Miggs - Angel/Angelus
Sergeants Boyle and Pembry - Mr. Trick/Allan Finch


[IRIS OPEN TO: William’s underground dwelling, possibly a basement. Music - New Wave music from the mid-80s - plays on a stereo. William, who is wearing a “Frankie Says” T-Shirt and nothing else, is lying on his stomach, ankles crossed and in the air behind him as he flips through a stack of old magazines. They are old issues of Dynamite!, saved and treasured, from the looks of the plastic sleeves. William gets up, walks to a package resting on a table, and slowly slices along the tape. With reverence, he gently opens the box, closing his eyes, flexing his jaw, and sniffing the air once opened. With delicacy, he removes the top layer of packing material. It is a twenty pound box filled with Dr. Pepper Lip Smackers. The camera swings back to his face, his head is tilted, eyes fluttering as he sees his bounty.]

William: So beautiful. So burgundy.

(The camera moves down the hallway, focusing on random elements William has chosen to display in this house of horrors: clothing on hangers with safety-pens and scribbling from ball point pens, a shelf with florescent puffy paint to decorate clothing, banana clips with fake yellow hair attached - to give the appearance of a long, blonde ponytail, row after row of Depeche Mode and Thompson Twins album covers fixed to the wall. We get to the rumpus room where Cordelia Chase is still bound to the velvet chair shaped like a high heeled shoe.)

Cordelia: Please...

(She tries to reach a tray of make-up - blue eye shadow and glitter blush - with her foot. She tries to reach anything. A can of Rave 4 and a rat-tail comb sit on a shelf at eye level. She tries not to imagine what her abductor is planning to do to her.)

[CUT TO: The Mayor’s Cell, Interior. The Mayor is in a chair, hands cuffed behind him, Xander the Orderly standing behind him, making faces at the prisoner’s back. Snyder is sitting at a chair, holding a plate of fresh baked cookies. There is a box next to him.]

Snyder: Stop making faces - it’s childish. You can wait outside for me.

Xander: Okay. You just stole five minutes of my “Full House time” that I’m never getting back, mister. And seriously. Would it kill you to shake off a little more? (Makes a face at the pee-smell that follows Snyder every where he goes and leaves, grabbing a handful of cookies as he exits.)

Snyder: Interesting how you have nothing to say to me after all of these years, and Rupert Giles sends you a perky little daughter-substitute and you just can’t stop talking. (Crosses to The Mayor’s bed, pulls a tape recorder out from underneath.)

Snyder: I thought this might come in handy.... Mr. Mayor, do you really think you are going to get a TiVo? That’ll you’ll be shouting out the answers on Jeopardy? Last time I checked, we don’t reward criminals. By the way... I called the Senator. He’s never heard of Buffy Summers. They tricked you. (Begins eating his cookie) Delicious. Hot and “fresh from the oven” cookies. Nothing like it. (Licks fingers) There never was a deal with the Senator, but there is now. Cooperate with me, and I’ll make sure you get that room with a window.

(Pushes plate of cookies closer to the Mayor, but just out of reach)

Snyder: Here’s the deal. Give us the ID for the JC Penny’s Killer, and the Senator will guarantee that you are transferred to a room upstairs with a window and best of all... Extended Basic Cable. You’ll get to watch the Westminster Kennel Dog Championship, Mr. Mayor.

(Reaches into pocket for a breath-mint, mindless of the “Heartland of America, Branson, Missouri” key ring that slips out onto the mattress. The Mayor is focused on the key ring, and more importantly the master key attached to the key ring.)

Snyder: Best of all, you’ll be out of Rupert Giles’ reach forever. Unless he decides to pay a visit and get security clearance. But if he doesn’t? Freedom.

(The Mayor tears his eyes away from the key ring - not literally, because he’s hand-cuffed, but moves his eyes away nonetheless, and focuses on Snyder.)

Snyder: Senator Wyndam-Pryce will verify all of this over the phone. Plus, I want exclusive rights to your story to be printed onto leaflets and passed out to new inmates as a reminder of what can happen when rules are not followed. It’ll make New Inmate Orientation that much longer and more painful for the little cretins. (His eyes shine with the greed of Administrative Power.)

(Snyder stands and leans over slightly to get in the bound man’s face)

Snyder: Who is the JC Penny’s Killer? (Long pause) Answer me, Mayor, or by god, I’ll send Giles down here to sing you power ballads from the 70s.

The Mayor: The first letter of his name is “S,” and I’ll tell the Senator the rest, but only in person. Bad news over the phone is just tacky.

[CUT TO: Hallway of the Watcher’s Council Headquarters. Giles is walking swiftly down the hall when he is intercepted by Quentin Travers.]

Travers: Giles, did you give some intern the go-ahead to bargain with The Mayor?

Giles: (sighs, whips off glasses and polishes) Yes, but you see, I, well-

Travers: Dammit, Giles, we have protocol that we use when dealing in these situations, and you were sent a booklet, pamphlets, intra-office memos, and attended a seminar in Sedona, Arizona outlining just what to do. I don’t care what talent you think this girl has, we are men of RULES! Anyway, the Senator is livid with you, and is working with Snyder on a deal of his own. They’re transferring The Mayor to a gymnasium with only moderately trained security, who are not equipped to deal with a demon like him. Or the Mayor. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must have some tea.

(Travers leaves)

[CUT TO: High School parking lot where The Mayor is being transferred. Rent-a-Cops surround Senator Wyndam-Pryce. Two men are off-loading The Mayor from a short bus where he is shackled to a wheelchair.]

Mr. Trick: Okay, man, here’s the deal. I’m gonna roll you over to them uptight white people, let them have their say, then I’m gonna roll you to the gym. You treat me good? I’ll treat you good.

Allan Finch: And welcome to high school, Mr. Mayor.

The Mayor: Well, gosh! I didn’t think I’d get the welcome wagon, that’s nice. More like a welcome chair, but I can’t complain, can’t complain. Say, is there going to be punch later?

Trick: (laughing) Man, listen to him. Punch. Tell you what - you keep up with the Mr. Mary Sunshine act, I’ll personally see to it that you get three hots and a cot, cool?

(The men roll him over to the Senator, fidgeting and fussing with his impeccably tied knot - the sort of man who looks like he sleeps in a three-piece suit or feels naked, and to Snyder, who is rocking back and forth on his heels, thoroughly pleased with himself.)

Finch: (to Snyder) Sir? If you could just unshackle his feet, we’ll take him over to the Senator.

(Snyder pats his pockets for the keys for a few minutes, when Trick pulls a pin out of his pocket and jimmies the lock.)

Trick: Pfft, I ain’t got all day for this. Come on.

(The Mayor smiles to himself and blows off a minuscule bit of lint from his uniform’s shoulder, then approaches the Senator.)

Snyder: Senator Wyndam-Pryce? I’d like you to meet The Mayor.

Senator Wyndam-Pryce: Mr. Mayor? I’ve brought papers outlining your new rights to have Basic Cable access. A&E is not included, however I did manage to finagle a rather good deal on the National Geographic channel and of course, the BBC. You’ll want to review the papers before you sign anything, I suspect?

The Mayor: I won’t bother wasting anymore of your time, Senator, and my goodness, if you don’t mind me saying, you are awfully young to have advanced so far in your career. Good work, good work. You know, people today don’t appreciate the sheer amount of dedication it takes to get ahead in the workplace. The time you have to put in. The long hours. What we have today is a generation of clock-watchers, that’s what and-

Senator Wyndam-Pryce: So much for not wasting my time. Listen, do you have his name or not?

The Mayor: His name is Sentaur - he was referred to me for a job hanging papers. Didn’t work out. Used to cry every time he got a paper cut, say, did you try and French your daughter?

Senator Wyndam-Pryce: (shocked beyond the telling) ...what?

The Mayor: Soul kiss? Slip her the mickey? See, I ask... because you’ve got this squirrely demeanor about you that I can’t put my finger on. Ha! Well, I can’t because my hands are cuffed behind my back, but that’s not the point.

Senator Wyndam-Pryce: (puffing, grabs his coat lapels, straightens to his full height)

The Mayor: If you over cook a man’s steak, he’ll complain, sure, but if you give him steak sauce he’ll eat it. Now, that has nothing to do with you kissing... Cordelia? Is it? Kissing her in the book stacks of your stuffy little library, but it probably raised your flag all the same, huh? My word. (Shakes head.)

Senator Wyndam-Pryce: (barks out hoarsely) Take this thing back to his asylum.

The Mayor: (hurriedly, but with a bored tone) 5'6", though he claims 5' 8". Brown hair, although he dyes it transparent. He’s about 44, though he looks much younger. If I think of anything else, I’ll be sure to give you the ol’ ring-a-ding-ding.

(The Mayor is wheeled off as the Senator turns to leave.)

The Mayor: (calling out over his shoulder) Oh, and Senator? Love the suit.

Senator Wyndam-Pryce: (beaming and smoothing his jacket-front) It is quite dapper, yes? Saville Row, of course.

The Mayor: (whistles appreciatively)

TBC~ Right here! Click!

(And if you aren't familiar with the movie "Silence of the Lambs," you are doing yourself a disservice. One of the most well-crafted films in twenty years. Brilliant feminist statement. Which, you see, pairs perfectly with Buffy. Because of that whole "not what it appears to be on the surface" thing. Okay. I shut up now. More, later today for those interested.


( 15 comments — Leave a comment )
Jan. 11th, 2006 07:41 am (UTC)
Hurrah, more parody fic! (cries a single perfect tear of blood... and semen... which smells like tobacco and vanilla and strawberrys)

Can anybody remember the bad!fic community that had the fantastic Spangel where Angel seduces his Childe after Spike has a beer and gets a paper cut, then Spike hurts his cervix? Friggin' hilarious.
Jan. 11th, 2006 08:16 am (UTC)
It's a FACT: There is no chin behind Chuck Norris' beard, only another fist.

Jan. 11th, 2006 08:56 am (UTC)
Oh, man, aren't those hilarious?
(Deleted comment)
Jan. 11th, 2006 12:06 pm (UTC)
Heee! I like his singing, too! But don't forget... according to Giles' earlier comment in Chpt 1, they have a painful history together.

Perhaps Chilton Snyder knows this?

*eyebrow raise* And I'm totally writing this for you, spikespetslayer, and my husband. Aside from me, of course.

*laughs at the crickets* I think this one is a bit out there for everyone.
Jan. 11th, 2006 05:25 pm (UTC)
Dynamite! magazine! I used to subscribe to that when I was 9. I didn't even think anyone else remembered it! *luffs*
Jan. 11th, 2006 05:28 pm (UTC)
Oh my god, I had a pen pal for YEARS that I got from Dynamite! mag. Heeee! Our boy likes the 70s... *loves you, too*
Jan. 11th, 2006 05:46 pm (UTC)
*rolz over and diez laffing*
Ten Q so veddy veddy much for more of this entertaining parody...stoney, I lurves you for continuing this...this is one of my favorite movies, and to see you doing what you do to it should make me cringe, but instead I am rolling in it, savoring it like the taste of strawberries and fresh cream on a hot summer day...oh, I digress, but you get what I'm saying...you are a freakin' mother-loving genius! *glomps stoney321* You made my day! And you mentioned me in your journal!!! LOL...Lurves you to death!
Jan. 11th, 2006 06:04 pm (UTC)
But of course! If not for your nudge, this would have languished in WIP prison for... Oh, who am I kidding. There's about four of us (me included) that gives a shit about this story, so thanks for the push. :D

(And this is in my top 5 movies of all time, as well.)
Jan. 12th, 2006 02:58 pm (UTC)
Oh no, I too used to wear a "Frankie says" t-shirt! And I still own a copy of Dynamite! Goes to the Movies! *has no choice, takes up serial killing as hobby*
Jan. 12th, 2006 03:31 pm (UTC)
Well, I certainly have that as MY excuse. Could you pass the pickling lime and my machete? Thanks.
Jan. 12th, 2006 09:40 pm (UTC)
Bwahahaha! I have so much Synder and Mayor love it's just pouring from me, like semen from a clenched penis. Except with less dry heaving and possibly screaming.

You are my favourite person in fandom for Synder and the Mayor, in fact, that's what we should call our band. I bags being on electric organ and glockenspel.
Jan. 13th, 2006 05:33 am (UTC)
*clenches man-root to cause semen to pour out in a rooster tail of white*

Our band? Are you on celeste? No! You're playing glokenspel, I see, which is PERFECT for our sound and I'm rocking the triangle. WE WILL OWN THE WORLD.

See also: thanks.
(Deleted comment)
Jan. 14th, 2006 11:36 am (UTC)

Sedona is the equivalent of weasel. Its insertion into anything is instant comedy. *cough*
( 15 comments — Leave a comment )


Are You Actually

Reading this? I'm just curious. Because that's really detail-oriented of you. Feel free to stop reading. But you can see that there's more here, so are you going to keep reading? Really? That's pretty dedicated. I'm impressed. No, really. I'm not being sarcastic, why do you get like that? See, this is the problem I have with your mother - yes. YES. I'm going there. It's time we put all of our cards on the table.

I love you, why are you doing this? After all we've been through? You don't have to be like this. You know, still reading. You could be baking a pie. And then sharing it with me.

Time Wot It Is

April 2017
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