Laura Stone (stoney321) wrote,
Laura Stone
stoney321

Next Chapter of the Best Little Unread Fic in Fandom!*

*sarcasm detectors should be on stun
Come on! Last chapter was the big reveal about why Buffy had the outs with her dad!! *laughs* One more to go after this! And then I'll never have a WIP again. COMPLETION. That's my new goal in everything. *throws away Tantric sex book* Previous chapters linked under the cut, and general disclaimer, etc. posted with the first chapter. (And, um, if anyone wanted to get into a discussion about the REAL Silence of the Lambs and it's take on feminism, religion, nationalism, glass ceilings, abortion, etc., I'd freaking love it. Because all of that is addressed in the movie. Um, I do not take on all of that in this fic. Because it's a parody. Also, I am not that clever.)



One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six

Silence of the Hams

PART SEVEN

[SETTING: Later that evening in The Mayor’s cell. He is listening to an old Texaco Theater production and laughing at the squeaky violin played by Jack Benny. He is also sketching, but we don’t see what it is. Trick and Finch are bringing in his supper on a tray.]

Trick: Summbitch wants a second dinner? Thick ham slices on white bread? Green bean casserole? Actually, that sounds kinda good.

(The Mayor is now twirling the forgotten “Branson, Missouri” key ring on one finger while laughing at Rochester on the tape.)

Finch: (hollering out to the prisoner) Okay, sir? Sir? I want you to approach the bars and slide down, hands out behind you, okay?

The Mayor: Righty-o! Give me just one moment here...

(He quickly slips the key in between his fingers, hidden, and complies. Mr. Trick handcuffs the prisoner’s hands outside the bars so he is trapped, then unlocks the cage and passes Finch in the doorway with the tray. The Mayor immediately sets to work using the key to undo his handcuffs. Trick makes to place the tray on top of the table with the sketches - we see it’s the infamous “Draw Me” turtle. It still looks like an armadillo, although a cute armadillo in a turtleneck .)

The Mayor: Hey, hey, hey! I worked very hard on those! Would it kill you to move them aside and then put the tray down? Do I go into your office and slop food on your things? You know, manners are free.

Trick: (jaw dropped) Uh, okay. And do I get a “please?”

The Mayor: (closes eyes, fingers working secretly on the cuff locks, small nod) Thank you. Would you please move the drawings?

Trick: (still with the incredulous tone to his voice) Now, that didn’t hurt, did it? And yes, I will.

(He sets the tray on the floor by The Mayor, rolls up the pictures, sets them aside, then leans back over to pick up the tray. The Mayor swings a newly freed arm around and cuffs Trick’s hand to the bars, Finch screams like a girl and passes out.)

Trick: What the- !

(The Mayor stands, stretches his arms across his chest, kicks Trick’s key ring out of reach, then sits at the table and devours his ham sandwich. He holds a finger up for a moment to indicate he wants to speak, washes the last bites down with his milk.)

The Mayor: See, I could kill you. Heck, I could eat you, really. But I like you. You’ve got style, you’ve got smarts. (Laughs) Gosh, I had this whole plan to slice the skin off your belly, exposing your guts like a Death’s Head moth - saw one once in National Geographic, crazy looking things. (Shudders) Then, I was going to open your back, split your ribs, pull your lungs out and hang you in an American Flag up there (points up to the top of the cage) and have a whole religion versus nationalism thing, with Renaissance imagery to show how far we haven’t gone as a society, but that just seems like a lot of work, you know? And honestly, my heart’s not in it. But. Plus side: you get to live, and I’ll just walk out of here, okay?

Trick: (eyes widening with every passing word of his potential torture) Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay. Cool with me. That whole “not killing” thing, in case I wasn’t being clear.

The Mayor: (hands in pockets, leaning forward and looking at the toes of his shoes) You sure? Stylistically, it would look pretty great... Nah. I want to get out of here, have a slice of pie, maybe see a show. Okay, then. Someone should find you in a while, okay? You were real nice. Thanks.

Trick: N-n-no problem.

(Whistling softly, The Mayor steps over the unconscious body of Allen Finch - still in a faint, and heads to the doorway, out to the hallway of the high school he’s been kept in. He walks out the front door without a hitch, down the steps and strolls across the lawn towards the town square.)

The Mayor: Now, honestly. There should have been at least a police officer or someone there. (Shrugs, and walks out of view)

[CUT TO: Watcher’s Academy, Willow - still with those corn-rows, someone should really help her get those out - running hell-bent for leather to Buffy’s room.]

[CUT TO: Buffy, in a robe, hair wet, biting her nail. She bites off the hang nail, and goes back to painting her toe nails]

Willow: Okay, the whole running for my life thing was supposed to indicate a heightened sense of tension? What’s with the “I’m Not Really A Waitress” on the toes? Where’s the fear and the best friend snuggles of assurance? (She pouts and holds her arms out, puppy eyes in full effect.)

Buffy: (sighing, putting away her polish) Look. He’s not coming here.

Willow: Y-you don’t know that! How can you say that! He’s not?

Buffy: No. (Points to sign outside of their open bedroom door on the wall that reads “Girl’s Dormitory”.) He’s all Andy Griffith. He wouldn’t come in here. The suck is that now I don’t get to ask him any more questions. That girl is as good as ruined.

Willow: The Mayor said everything you need was in that case file.

Buffy: No, he said he wrote the answer for me next to a Beetle Bailey doodle, and then laughed and said... it... was... (Looks up with shock) You don’t think?

(Buffy and Willow scramble to grab the case file from the edge of the bed and flip hurriedly through the pages until they spot-)

Buffy: Beetle friggin’ Bailey. Oh, he has nice handwriting!

Willow: (warning) Focus? Please?

Buffy: Okay. (Reads) “Hey, Kitten. I couldn’t resist. Well, shucks, you worked so hard, and I bet you’d figure it out anyway. I just couldn’t stand the thought of not giving you the final nudge. Alright, fair warning if you want to stop now and be noble, although I wouldn’t advise it...

His name is William, also known as Spike. Spike McGillicutty. I know, it’s not conventional, but our Killer isn’t a conventional kind of fella, is he? He lives on 1453 Broad Street. Now go get your man, ya little go-get-em! Sincerely, Mayor Richard Wilkins III.”

Willow: (shocked) Hot damn, Buffy!

Buffy: He knew him! And McGillicutty? Lame.

~TBC RIght here! Final chapter of this EPIC SAGA.


Short, but action-packed! Besides, that's a natural ending because all of the rest needs to go together. NEEDS TO. zomg, so seriuz.
Tags: fic, funny fic, parody fic, the mayor
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