Myth~deeds of Derring~do ! part 2

The stranger gave Xena a charming grin, showing off the perfect dimple in the center of his chin. "Cap'n Flynn, milady, of the Arkay-Oh. And who is your lovely companion?," he asked, turning his twinkling brown gaze on the open-mouthed bard.

...deep within the bard's medulla oblongata, chemical messages were being hastily concocted and sent via the brain's electrical nerve impulses to her cerebral cortex. Upon being translated by the conscious mind, these messages from Gabrielle's instinct read: "Warning! Warning! Danger approaching!" And there was a tiny drawing of some kind of mechanical device with a fishbowl on its head that the cortex stared at for a few moments... then dismissed as a bad joke.

Gabrielle's eyes seemed greener than usual when she replied coolly, "The lovely companion is taken, thank you very much." She clutched Xena's muscular arm possessively and glared.

Cap'n Flynn threw his head back and laughed in an appallingly fake manner. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, with a perfect tan, teeth so white they resembled miniature marble tombstones, a mustache that outlined a strong mouth, and his wavy black hair was held back from his face by a black headband. Like his men, he was dressed in a billowy- sleeved shirt and tight leather trousers that clearly revealed the bulging outline of...

Xena raised one eyebrow. "Are you going to get on with the pirating, or are you gonna stand there all day waiting for an albatross to hover by?"

Flynn immediately closed his mouth and stared up at the sky a moment fearfully. Reassured by the sight of lonely clouds - and not a bird in sight - he transferred his gaze to the waiting warrior. "Rest assured, ladies, my men and I mean no harm. We only intend to divest you of your baubles, perhaps bestow a kiss or two, and be on our merry way."

The two women immediately moved so close to each another that Flynn briefly received the impression of one body with two heads.

"Whaddya mean, kiss?," Xena and Gabrielle demanded in unison, groping for the weapons that still languished in Cabin #11.

Cap'n Flynn was briefly nonplused. He'd expected resistance, perhaps even tears (he always carried extra hankies just in case), hysterical protests (smelling salts in one shirt sleeve), or even a display of weak, feminine violence (first aid kit and blackjack in other sleeve) - but this show of strength had him puzzled. No woman had ever reacted to him in such a manner; he usually had to gallantly support them as they rolled their big eyes and passed out with passion. Flynn raised a finger and said, "Excuse me a moment, will you?"

Xena and Gabrielle watched as the pirate walked to the rail and leaned one hip against it, whipping out a dog-eared scroll, stained with cucumber juice, from a trouser pocket. Running his finger down the list, he mumbled, "Heroic display of warrior skill and/or acrobatic ability... got it... appropriately stimulating yet fashionable attire... got it... dimple... got it... charming smile... got it..."

Despite herself, Gabrielle's curiosity was aroused. Ignoring Xena's whispered protest, she crept up to the preoccupied Flynn and craned her neck to read the title of the scroll. It was "The Fifty Best Ways to Pick Up Women - Never Be Dateless Again!" by that obscure Athenian philosopher, Loungus Saurus.

Clapping both hands over her mouth to stifle a sudden attack of the giggles, Gabrielle tip-toed back to her warrior.

Xena's pale blue eyes were wide. The strawberry-blonde woman's face was a brilliant scarlet; her green eyes bulged from their sockets and her shoulders were shaking violently. The warrior could only assume that Gabrielle was either having another bout of seasickness or was choking, probably on the chunk of nutbread Xena had seen her conceal earlier within the mysterious depths of that ugly green top...

For a battle-trained warrior, to think is to act. Snatching Gabrielle around the waist, Xena carried her bodily to the rail next to Flynn, bent her over it, and thwacked her heartily on the back - on the assumption that it couldn't hurt to be cover all the bases.

The blow knocked all the wind out of the bard; she bucked like a landed fish, trying unsuccessfully to gasp for air, which prompted Xena to assume that sterner measures were called for.

While Flynn looked on with developing interest, Xena put both arms around Gabrielle from behind, placing her hands in the correct spot, and heaved.

The bard's eyes bulged even further. She grabbed the rail with both hands, pushing with all her might, trying to dislodge her suddenly insane partner; her face was so engorged with crimson that her hair looked pallid by comparison. When Xena heaved a second time, one of Gabrielle's flailing legs caught the warrior a sharp blow on the shin, causing her to drop the suffering bard.

Gabrielle landed with a thump on the deck, her short skirt flying up and revealing far more about her personal hygiene habits than she would normally have liked (Xena, commenting about the scene later, would say that it reminded her of that popular play starring the famed blonde hetera, Sharon Igneous).

Finally, a tiny breath of air was forced into Gabrielle's straining lungs, and with that easing, more and more life-giving oxygen poured into the stricken bard, until at last, she began to breathe more normally.

Sea-green eyes swimming with tears of both exertion and anger, Gabrielle looked up at the anxious face of her warrior. "What did you think you were doing, Xena?," she rasped. "Why didn't you just cut off the flow of blood to my brain while you were at it?"

Xena grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. I thought you were choking," she said apologetically.

Gabrielle extended one hand, and allowed Xena to help her off the deck, hastily tugging her skirt back into place, and adjusting her top. "Well, next time, let me choke! I think your cure's worse than the disease."

Flynn chuckled, and both women looked at him - wrathful and embarrassed green beside contrite yet still-simmering pale blue. Xena and Gabrielle had both forgotten about the presence of the pirate captain; the fact that he was obviously amused by their little misunderstanding only added to their mutual antipathy.

"What are you laughing at?," Xena snarled, one hand protectively clutching Gabrielle's shoulder.

Gabrielle put her arm defiantly around Xena's waist and said, "Yeah! Who're you making fun of, Mr. Dateless?"

Flynn hastily shoved the scroll back into his pocket, further squishing the battered cucumber. Striking the approved chest-out, shoulders-back, butt-tucked pose recommended by Loungus Saurus, he replied, "You have amused me, ladies! I think, that besides my normal treasure, I will take you two as well." He smiled suavely, flexing the dimple in his chin in an irresistible manner.

Xena and Gabrielle stared at him for a long moment, incredulity warring with sheer amazement on both faces... then they doubled over, laughing hysterically.

Cap'n Flynn pouted. I am not used to this treatment, he thought sullenly. I have a frimpin' STAR on my chamber door, fer Zeus' sake! My agent's gonna hear about this!

Leaving behind the warrior and bard, who were practically rolling around on the deck, he stomped over to his first mate, a disreputable looking tar with an eye patch and a motley parrot perched on one shoulder.

"Ah! Short-Stack Sliver!," Flynn exclaimed. "Send a skeleton crew back over to the Arkay-Oh. I've decided we're taking the Lust Boat; we'll maroon the passengers on some remote isle and sail our prize to the hide-out in Rhodes. All except for those two," he continued, pointing a trembling finger at Xena and Gabrielle, who were clutching one another and whooping. "I want them clapped in irons and put in the brig."

"Arrrgh, cap'n," Sliver replied, scratching his scrofulous head with a blackened nail, "There be no skellington crew this day. Young Pew, him what's got the gamblin' problem, lost all our dragon's teeth in a snooker game with some feller name o' Jason, cap'n o' the Argo. I could send some o' the real men along, though, if yer likes."

Flynn resisted the urge to stamp his elegantly shod feet on the deck and throw the biggest hissy fit in pirate history. He took a deep breath, mentally counting to ten in Phoenician. Then he said spitefully, "Fine. Just fine. Young Pew - that's the bubble-butted redhead who's the gunner's mate, right? Can't run very fast?' Always falling on the deck face first with his breeches around his ankles?"

Sliver nodded, and Flynn continued, "Young Pew gets ten days on bread and water, and you're to confiscate all his copies of Seamen's Weekly. Send some men over to the Arkay-Oh, get those Zeus-damned passengers off the Promenade and down below, and will SOMEBODY PLEASE kill that dog!!!!," Flynn screamed, having stepped in yet another steaming pile.

Sliver nodded again. "Arrrgh, cap'n," he replied with a sketchy salute. Within minutes, the terrified passengers and Lust Boat crew were herded down below and locked up; Young Pew was weeping over the loss of his beloved scrolls; and every deck from bow to stern, port to starboard, was being searched for a small dog with a big self-control problem.

Flynn watched the proceedings and slowly, calm began to reassert itself. He stalked over to Xena and Gabrielle, who were in the process of recovering from the most awe inspiring giggle fit ever to be provoked in the midst of a swashbuckling adventure, and loomed over them, hands on his hips.

"So... you think Cap'n Flynn is funny, eh?," the pirate asked, tossing his curly black hair. "We'll see just how funny you think it is when I put you in irons and stuff you both in the brig."

Xena looked up at the ridiculous figure of Flynn and stifled another giggle. Before she could respond to this threat, however... something very unusual happened.

Down below the white-capped ocean waves, in the deepest reaches of his watery domain, Poseidon scowled.

He had been watching the events concerning Xena and Gabrielle with growing alarm; like all the other gods, he had sworn a solemn oath by the Styx not to interfere in the heroine's lives for two weeks - as a wedding present to Artemis, Athena, and Aphrodite's favorite couple.

Now the Sea God was troubled. They'll think I put him up to it, he thought moodily, working himself into a real snit. The other gods'll march their pattoo-ties down here and shout and wave their hands and make a huge stink... and all because of that idiot Flynn!

Poseidon knew all about Flynn, of course. He'd been watching the pirate's career with interest for several years. After considerable thought, at last the Sea God decided that he would have to do something about this ridiculous situation, before the other gods noticed and started carping.

Not knowing that Flynn had only sent a few men back aboard the Arkay-Oh, and was planning on taking the Lust Boat himself, Poseidon decided to raise a mighty (but brief) storm to separate both ships and blow them far away from one another. Then, he could easily put the Lust Boat back on course - using his own horses, if necessary - and Flynn and his men could continue to provide Poseidon with amusement for years to come.

Out of nowhere, a howling gale roared down on both ships, accompanied by driving rain and flecks of hail. Xena grabbed Gabrielle and half-carried her to the hatch, pulling it open by main strength and shoving the bard down into safety.

The warrior waited, holding the hatch open in the teeth of the storm, and shouted, "Come on! For the god's sake, get below!"

The pirates still on board the Lust Boat crept, crawled and creeped, some on hands and knees, towards their only hope of salvation. All made it to safety except for young Pew, who was blown off the deck by a particularly vicious gust...

...eventually landing safely in a strange land where little men and women, wearing hideously technicolor costumes, sang incessantly about lollipops, yellow brick roads and dead witches. Young Pew, finally freed to explore his feminine side, insisted on wearing elaborate ballgowns, waving a star-topped wand, and changed his name to Glinda...

Xena struggled to keep the hatch open until all the pirates were within; then she dived below, ignoring the ladder. The hatch thudded closed behind her.

In the bowels of the ship, Chaos ruled (Order had gone out for pizza and neglected to leave its pager number). Passengers milled about, crying and praying, while the pirates clung together and howled.

Flynn, his handsome face grim, stalked over to Xena and barked, "Do you know what's going on?"

Xena gave him the Look at Intensity #6, and the ends of Cap'n Flynn's sopping hair began to sizzle. "No. I don't," Xena replied shortly, wringing out her own hair with one hand. "But it looks like one Hades of a storm to me."

Through the thick hull, they could hear the wind moaning; the ship rocked not-quite-violently back and forth, tossed by enormous waves that were somehow gentle, yet firm in their resolve - intent upon some unknown purpose.

Suddenly, a thought struck Xena and she cursed herself for not having thought of it before. "Um, Flynn?," she asked. "Have you seen Gabrielle?"

"Who? You mean your short, blonde, mouthy sidekick?," he replied snottily, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "She's over there."

Cap'n Flynn was struck dumb as Xena shot him the Look cranked up to Intensity #8, causing his eyebrows to crisp, his testicles to attempt the impossible, and his bowels to send a hasty message to the brain regarding a new plan of stringent exercise and weight-lifting for his quivering sphincter.

"She may be short, you irrumator, but she's a red-head, I happen to like her mouth, and she's my frimpin' soulmate," Xena growled.

"Oh. Sorry." Cap'n Flynn stumbled away, brown eyes glazed, strings of smashed cucumber leaking from one leg of his trousers, while the warrior searched for her amazon bard.

To Xena's relief, Gabrielle was huddled near the bulkhead, both arms wrapped around her stomach. "Oooooh, Xena," she moaned when the dark-haired warrior approached. "I'm getting sick again..."

The smell below was already fairly bad; many of the passengers had the same complaint as Gabrielle, and some of the pirates weren't looking so hot, either. Xena thumped Gabrielle's pressure point again and was relieved to see much of the green leave her beloved bard's face.

"C'mon, bardie-poo," Xena said as she lifted the smaller woman to her feet. "Let's see if we can get these people calmed down."

Just before the two women could begin their mission of mercy, the wind abruptly died. The Lust Boat, now in far calmer waters, steadied her movement; everyone stood and stared, waiting for the other sandal to drop... and waiting... and waiting... rather like Bizarro versions of the Energizer Lepus.

Finally, Xena spoke, and the sound of her voice was startling in the silence. "All right. I'm going up to see what's going on. All of you - and that means you, too, Flynn! - stay put."

Xena disappeared up the ladder, shouldered open the hatch, and climbed out into a burst of yellow sunshine.

Shading her pale-blue eyes with one hand, Xena stared at the sight that greeted her astonished vision... It was an island... and on its creamy white beaches was the strangest sight she had ever seen.

The Lust Boat was in the shallow waters of a crystal-blue lagoon; palms and other exotic flora stretched as far as the eye could see. In the distance, a verdant mountain loomed, and the air was scented with the perfume of coconuts, frangipani and roasting pork.

On the beach, several golden-skinned young women, dressed in flowing grass skirts, flowers and wide smiles (and nothing else!), swayed their hips seductively to the rhythmic beat of a native band heavy on the drum section.

As the others began to crowd out onto the deck, exclaiming and pointing, Xena noticed a man - no, two men - standing to the right of the dancers. They were dressed in immaculate white suits with some sort of black cloth tied around their throats; it was obviously a uniform, and for a moment, the warrior thought they must be Lust Boat crewmembers.

Nah, she thought. Can't be. Dismissing the idea, Xena said to the silent Kaptain Schtubing, who was waiting stoically at her elbow, "Well? Do you have any ideas? Where the Hades are we?"

Schtubing's mouth worked. "Erhem...," he coughed, and his throat clearing seemed perfunctory at best, not his usual enthusiastic effort. "We have to go ashore," he said finally. "We have no choice. We cannot leave this place until we do."

Xena looked at him sharply. "Whaddya mean, can't? Sure, the waters shallow here, but it shouldn't be that big of a problem to heave her to when the tide comes in..."

Schtubing interrupted. "Erhem. No." His hand made a slashing motion of negation. "We will go. All of us." As Xena's gaze grew even sharper, the Kaptain said pleadingly, "Please, do not ask me to explain! I can't! We must go ashore and wait for the word of Aaron."

"The Schlockmeister God?" Xena shrugged. She'd dealt with gods before; she'd deal with another one if she had to. "Okay. But I still want an explanation, Kaptain. And you are gonna give me one... eventually."

Schtubing nodded weakly, then straightened his white tunic. "Erhem. Yes, once I have consulted with mighty Aaron, our course will become clear."

Working quickly in concert, the Lust Boat crew and Flynn's pirates rigged lines to allow the passengers to slide down into the warm, shallow waters. Once the ship had been emptied, Xena slid down herself, right after Gabrielle.

The warrior and her bard splashed to the beach and joined the milling throng. Suddenly, a voice rose, pitched to be heard over the mumbled conversations and whining complaints of the passengers, pirates and crew.

It came from the tall, lean, fashionably tropical attired gentleman (well, fashionable if you were a Brittanic lordling with pretensions of Empire) with close-cropped salt and pepper hair, who was accompanied by a small, frog-faced dwarf in an identical costume.

A swarm of native lovelies sidled out of the palms, carrying trays of fruit-and-curly-straw bedecked drinks in coconut shells, which they began serving, while the gentleman took a crystal goblet of some pale yellow sparkling beverage (Xena thought wildly: Pee with bubbles?? Ewwww!) and raised it in a toast. "My dear guests," he said in a cultured accent. "I am Mister Pork, your host. Welcome to Fantasy Atoll!"

Pork sipped from his goblet... and Xena glanced at Schtubing. His normally kindly face was set in a rictus of hate.

She nudged the Kaptain with one elbow. "Why don't you summon that god of yours," Xena whispered.

"Erhem," Schtubing replied, just as softly. "That is an excellent suggestion."

Xena put one arm around Gabrielle's shoulders while the Kaptain strode purposefully down the beach to a secluded area. Whipping off his scrambled-egg cap (the egg had, by this time, due to inclement weather, pretty much given up the ghost) and began his sacred plea...

In moments, the gauzy figure of Aaron, God of Schlockmeisters, appeared. Schtubing conversed quietly with his deity, while Aaron listened and nodded.

At last, Aaron replied, and although Xena strained her ears, they were too far away for her to hear any part of the conversation. Gabrielle rested her head against Xena's broad shoulder, her amazon staff once again in her hand. Before leaving the ship, both women had gathered their weapons... and the precious saddlebag containing all the Special Stuff.

Schtubing stumped back up the beach after mighty Aaron disappeared. "Erhem!," he said disconsolately. "It appears we are stranded here at the mercy of that fiend Pork. Aaron has refused to assist; he says a cross-over episode is just what he needs to bolster sagging ratings."

Neither Xena nor Gabrielle really understood that final comment, but "stranded" was, of course, immediately comprehended. "You mean we're stuck here?," Xena demanded, and her pale blue eyes flashed when the Kaptain nodded.

Gabrielle rubbed her chin. "Well, it could be worse. At least, the island's inhabited."

Before Xena could wring an explanation out of the glowering Kaptain, Pork again raised his voice.

"Fantasy Atoll," he explained, sipping his bubbly beverage and casually leaning an elbow on his dwarf companion's head, "is the place where all your fantasies come true. For most of you, this will not be a difficulty - in fact, it will be simplicity itself. Let the fantasies begin...," he said with vast self-importance, and a herd of scantily clad women, of every shape, size, color and nationality, accompanied by equally less-than-fully-dressed men, swarmed onto the assembled passengers, crew and pirates, pulling them into the exotic shrubbery.

Within minutes, the only ones left standing on the beach were Xena, Gabrielle, Schtubing and, to the women's surprise, Cap'n Flynn.

Pork bestowed a charming smile on the four remaining guests, the whiteness of his teeth contrasting with the rich Corinthian leather color of his face. "Now," he said, tossing his goblet over his shoulder and rubbing his hands together briskly, "of all of you, I think Cap'n Flynn's should be easiest. Battu," he said, looking at his frog-faced evil twin, "take the good captain to Mistress Jane's hut. Tell her to give him the Naughty Boy Special."

Battu replied in a piping voice, "Take to Dane Jane; use cane; not to refrain from pain till vain captain insane. No strain, boss."

Pork smiled widely as the little man waddled over to the open-mouthed Flynn and dragged him away into the underbrush.

Pork bestowed an especially beatific smile on the simmering Kaptain. "Why, fulfilling his dearest fantasy, of course. But what about you, my friend? Don't you have something... something you've always cherished, some desire you have left unfulfilled?"

Schtubing turned purple... and suddenly, from the underbrush stumbled a skinny, sort of youngish man, clad in a bright red, skin-tight tunic, flared-legged pants, and an ugly white cap flopping over his forehead. "Skipper!," he whinnied, and promptly fell on his face, spewing sand everywhere.

The eggplant color drained from Schtubing's face. "Erhem... Gilliganus?," he whispered... then shouted, "GILLIGANUS!," and lumbered over to the struggling man.

Gilliganus looked up, his face sprinkled with sand. "Skipper! Where've you been all these years?," he asked, spitting a small, very irate crab from his mouth. "We waited, and waited, and you never came back..."

Schtubing lifted Gilliganus into his strong arms, nearly weeping. "Ach!,' he moaned, "I escaped the island... I swear I meant to bring back help, but...," the Kaptain paused, then wailed, "Aaron made me an offer I couldn't refuse! I was forced, I tell you! Brainwashed! Oh, Gilliganus! I never meant to leave you all alone!"

There followed a tearful, kissy-face reunion that left Xena rather pop-eyed and Gabrielle bearing a smug smile. She'd thought there was something, well, kinda funny about the Kaptain... and the amazon bard was glad he had finally found his true love.

Pork beamed at the reunited couple. "Yes, poor Schtubing," he confided to Xena and Gabrielle. "Mighty Aaron finally decided to relax his stringent standards and allow guest spots from Gilliganus' Island to appear on Fantasy Atoll; it was the workings of Fate that permitted Schtubing to come here just in time."

Xena shrugged. "Okay. Whatever. What about us?," she replied, hugging Gabrielle tightly to her side.

Pork's molasses-colored eyes lit on the bulging saddlebag slung over one of Xena's muscular shoulders. "To be honest, ladies... I doubt there are any fantasies left that you haven't been able to manage by yourself."

Gabrielle nearly choked, her face a vivid crimson, while Xena guffawed. "All right, you got me there. Now, how the Hades do we get off this frimpin' island? We were on our way to Alexandria..."

"I know," Pork interrupted. "But the next outbound ship will not be here until tomorrow morning. You will have to stay the night, as my guests, of course."

Xena eyed Schtubing and Gilliganus, who were still tightly wrapped in one another's arms. "All right," the warrior said. "As long as you make sure our hut's far away from theirs."

Pork chuckled. "As you wish. If you will follow me, ladies," he said, and led the two women off the beach (where matters were rapidly progressing to the point between the Kaptain and his beloved, long-lost first mate that the management denies all responsibility in the matter!) and through the jungle.

As they trooped along the jungle path, Xena was startled to catch glimpses of a band of merrily dancing seamen, dressed in unusual uniforms, who were high-stepping, their arms around one another, singing loudly:

"When I was a lad I served a term
As office boy to an Attorney's firm.
I cleaned the windows and I swept the floor,
And I polished up the handle of the big front door.
I polished up the handle so carefullee...
That now I am the Ruler of the Queen's Navee!"

Xena looked at Pork quizzically. The gentleman said, by way of explanation, "The lost crew of the H.M.S. Pinafore. They were abandoned in favor of more technical productions by that Brittanic playwright, Andrew Weberonius."

Gabrielle replied, "Ooooh! Isn't that the guy who did that musical thingy about kitties?"

Xena rolled her pale blue eyes. "Yes, that's the one." Personally, she found Weberonius' productions kinda overblown, although she occasionally accompanied her bard to the Brittain's musicals as a special treat.

They passed through another section of the jungle, which opened up into a clearing. Three beautiful, shapely young women (well, two of them were frimpin' gorgeous, the other more quietly attractive, so it was clear she was the brains of the bunch) who were worshipping an empty chair, entreating some invisible presence named Gnarly for a new "assignment."

Pork noticed their interest, and said, "Those are Gnarly's Seraphs. It's one of Aaron's new series. May he get a forty-share," Pork intoned piously.

Next, they went through a region infested by buzzing flies. Waving their arms frantically, the trio managed to get out of the area without incident. As they hurried into a cleaner area, behind them they heard the shouts of children and frenzied primitive drums; they also caught glimpses of a dark- haired, pouty young man and a stunning redheaded woman, who carried strange metallic objects in their clenched fists and shouted, "Freeze! Eff Bee Eye!"

Xena shrugged. "I dunno. Some kind of charm against kidnapping by aliens, I think."

Pork halted and pointed towards a clearing. The path had clearly curved around to the west, because Xena and Gabrielle, peering through the parted palm fronds, could see a white-sanded beach...

A pair of teenagers were cavorting in the surf. The boy had a curling mane of golden blonde hair, the lean physique of a swimmer, and wore a ragged loincloth swaddled around his hips.

The girl's long, brown hair was sticking to her upper chest as if it had been glued there - no matter how hard she cavorted, or how strongly the salt-laden breeze blew, those locks that hid her tender attributes didn't budge an inch. She was fairly pretty but possessed a single, bushy eyebrow that bisected her forehead like an animated caterpillar.

Pork whispered, "The Turquoise Lagoon," and motioned Xena and Gabrielle away. "Poor boy. His career's never going to be the same again."

The trail wound on... past some strange animal/humanoid people, with hallucinogenically colored, enormously puffy faces and bodies, who skipped around singing "Tra-la-la! La-la-la-la! Tra-la-la! La-la-la-la-la!" After singing this song a few times, they began an orgy that included chilled, sweetened snow, whipped cream and a ton of cherries.

Pork's explanation: "The Big Yellow Electric Banana Splits. They're on loan from Seals & Croft. Or was it Hannah- Barbarian?"

The trail wound on some more... To a collection of grass huts where the two women spotted Schtubing and Gilliganus, arms around one another's waists, speaking rapid-fire (punctuated on the Kaptain's part by enough 'Erhems!' to satisfy a troop of ear-nose-and-throat specialists) to several other people. Pork pointed them out one by one...

"The Philosopher," he said, indicating a thin man with a serious face and closely cropped brown hair. "Mariannus," he said of an pert, pretty brunette who wore her hair in two ponytails. "The famed hetera, Gingeria," - who was a zaftig redhead with pouty lips and a habit of looking up through her fluttering eyelashes, "and finally, the Roman financier, Powellian and his wife, Lovey." The older married pair were dressed to the IX's and spoke with an accent so cultured as to be nearly incomprehensible.

Schtubing and Gilliganus finished their explanations... and a celebration began to welcome back the prodigal Skipper, including a banquet featuring coconut cream pie and a sing-along around the campfire:

"Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, the tale of a fateful trip," the castaways sang gleefully...

More winding... the women saw a marooned sailor, dressed in crudely tanned skins and a woven cap, who was berating a long-suffering native man shrilly: "No, no, Saturday! If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, man. Red wine with beef; white with fish or chicken! Good Lord... what does a poor castaway sailor of Her Majesty's nation have to do to hire decent help these days!"...

Even more winding... several half-man/half-animal conglomerates were sitting around a table, sipping tea from fragile porcelain cups and conversing in proper Oxfordian accents.

"You know, Biffy old man," a hyena faced fellow said delicately, "I do believe the good doctor Moreau has finally lost his senses."

A lion-man snorted into his tea and muttered, "Quite right, Corky. But we can't forment rebellion, old top. T'isn't done, you know."

A fellow with the features of a rheumatic rhinoceros said, "Tut! Biffy, Corky, listen to your old Uncle Fortheringay, gentlemen. Is this proper tea conversation?"

Hyena and Lion looked embarrassed, while a grinning monkey-man strode out of the bush, clad in striped trousers, a coat, and a straw hat perched jauntily on his head. "Tennis, anyone?," he asked brightly, and the trio moved on...

Finally, the warrior, bard and Pork arrived at a magnificent plantation house, with towering colonnades, an airy front porch, and unbelievably immaculately landscaped grounds.

"Whoa!," Gabrielle exclaimed. "You live here, Mister Pork?," she asked, sea-green eyes wide.

Pork smiled and replied, "Of course. It's a modest little mansion, really, but for the duration of your stay, I want you ladies to consider it yours."

Xena, despite her best intentions and sincere efforts to redeem her former profession, couldn't help wondering, with all the predatory instincts of a rapacious warlord, just how much loot she and her amazon bard could sneak away with. The warrior shook these thoughts out of her head and said to herself sternly, Down, girl! You don't do that stuff anymore!

Pork led them into the house, and showed the two women to their room... An enormous, wonderfully decorated showcase, the bedroom had a huge heart-shaped bed, a trapeze set hanging from the ceiling, and innumerable shelves loaded with scented and flavored oils, jellies, and... er... more Special Stuff than even the incredibly experienced Xena had ever seen in her life.

Gabrielle wandered around the room, picking up this, handling that... grabbing an ebony something-or-another with an elaborate set of gears and a crank-handle, the bard asked innocently, "Hey, Xena! What's this? A Silesian egg scrambler?"

Face flaming with embarrassment, Xena snatched the... er... 'egg scrambler' from the bard's grip and shoved it back on the shelf. "Ot-nay in-ay ont-fray of-a Ork-pay," she whispered in Swinus Latin, "Ore-may ecial-spay uff-stay."

Gabrielle stood, one eye half closed, as she translated this information; then her own sweet face began to crimson. "Oh- ay ear-day," she whispered back.

Pork was beaming from ear to ear; he had of course both heard and understood the women's whispered conversation, but chose to overlook it in the interests of diplomacy. "I'll leave you two ladies alone, then. If you need anything to... eat... please send down to the kitchen. Good night."

There was something about the way Pork said "eat" that made both women blush more brightly as the gentleman exited the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him... leaving them alone in a room that might have been manufactured solely for their own use.

Gabrielle turned to Xena and took a deep breath. "Okay," she said firmly, grabbing the Silesian 'egg scrambler' again, "Dream rabbit... show me how this thing works."

A slow, beautiful smile stretched Xena's lips as she answered, "Of course, bardie-poo."

...it would prove to be a long, interesting night... and a highly educational one as well.

*The management of this story thanks our guests for their patronage. We now pause for a brief intermission while our readers gather the necessary equipment for their survival of the next reel, which is so hot it's practically smokin'. Remember: essentials include plenty of ice, fire extinguishers, oven mitts, buckets of clean water, and lots of towels. Parents, you should now lock up your children, susceptible maiden aunts, and household pets. Asbestos underwear is optional, but recommended.*

(Muzak - Montovani String Orchestra playing the instrumental version of Barry Manilow's "Copa Cabana")

(...suddenly, the author is startled by a tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she sees...)

BARDWYNNA: (gasping in surprise) Xena? Gabrielle? What are you grrrls doing here?

XENA: (staring down at Bardwynna) Enough's enough, already! Look, 'Wynna, we've been good sports about this whole Myth thing, but frankly, I'm sick of havin' my love life exposed and held up for ridicule all the time. Zeus! Every time I turn around, I'm haulin' Gabrielle into the bushes, or out of the bushes...

BARDWYNNA: (interrupts) Wait! I've given you grrls a great room this time! No more landing in thistle patches, rolling around on rocks, or having myth-understandings... well, er, okay, so there was one this time around, but it was tiny! Just a little teeny one! Not sexual at all!

GABRIELLE: (defiantly) 'Wynna! C'mon! How'd you like it if every time you turned around, your sex life was turned into a farce?

BARDWYNNA: (sullenly) What sex life? (she turns to Xena, who has her arms crossed over her breastplate and is tapping one toe against the floor) Aw, c'mon! Just one more scene? Please? Pretty-please with a cherry on top? Ooooh, that give me a wicked idea... (begins tapping on keyboard)

XENA: (grabbing Bardwynna's ear and practically hauling her off the chair) No! No more ideas! Zeus, 'Wynna! Don't you ever think about anything except sex?

BARDWYNNA: (looking at Big Yellow Electric Banana) Well... actually, no. It's Igor's fault, really. He's always ON, if you know what I mean.

GABRIELLE: Then hose him down, fer gods' sake! Just give us a little privacy this time around, okay?

(Under the combined gaze of the world's two most desirable women, Bardwynna melts, but is still put out.)

BARDWYNNA: (snippily) Okay, okay! I'll think of something else. All right? Any more complaints?

XENA: (interrupts) No, that's fine. Just cut out the ridiculous sex stuff, and we're happy. C'mon, bardie-poo. I can't wait to try out that Silesian Egg Scrambler...

(Xena and Gabrielle depart back into the realms of imagination, leaving a pouting Bardwynna staring at the softly glowing computer monitor)

BARDWYNNA: (snidely) All right. (cracking knuckles loudly) They want privacy? They'll frimpin' get privacy! (cackles evilly)

(Montovani Strings Orchestra plays the instrumental version of The Weather Girls' "It's Raining Men")

An endless parade trooped through the guest bedroom while Xena and Gabrielle, hidden by a hastily snatched sheet, watched in horror from the heart-shaped bed...

...Elephants in pointed clown hats and polka-dotted tutu's did a lumbering mambo; giraffes ridden by tiny monkey's in jockey's uniforms goose-stepped; hippopotami with lipstick and false eyelashes carried by grinning, feather-capped alligators were twirled about; ostriches did awkward pirouettes; and lions and tigers and bears performed a high-kickin' Rockette's style number to the tune of "There's No Business Like Show Business" - played on the nose-flute and tambourine by a pair of dyspeptic camels...

...Following the parade of animals came the acrobats: juggling balls, flaming torches, swords, scarves and squealing piglets; balancing on enormous balls made from the inflated bladders of sea monsters slain by Hercules; contorting their bodies into impossible positions while balancing trays of glassware on their chins; and forming human pyramids and other impossible feats with an ease that bordered on the supernatural...

...Next, the stricken warrior and her bard were inflicted by the high-jinks of a herd of gaudily dressed clowns, each one more determined than the last to provoke either laughter or decapitation. Seltzer water, cream pies, water balloons and confetti were flung about in abandon, and the honking of their red noses was well nigh unbearable...

...An enormous steam organ was wheeled in, drawn by twelve Percheron stallions. Perched on top of the organ, playing "The Flight of the Bumblebee" furiously by the light of a flaming candelabra, was a man dressed in a brilliant suit covered with sequins and rhinestones. As he rolled past the astonished and increasingly crestfallen duo, he flashed them a grin and lisped, "This one's for my brother George..."

A wide-eyed Xena groped frantically for her sword or any other weapon for that matter, but realized with a growing sense of disbelief that they were gone.

(From the air came a wicked chuckle. "Sorry, Xena. I edited your weapons out of this scene.")

Xena cried, "Damn you, 'Wynna!," as the next round of the author's revenge began...

... A marching band blew through the bedroom, doing intricate formations and blowing trumpets, tubas and saxophones until their faces were crimson and sweaty; on their heels came the remedial chorus section from the Young Greek's Amateur Glee Club, wailing at the top of their lungs in cracked tenors, "FEELINGS! WHOA, WHOA, WHOA, FEELINGS!..."

While Gabrielle desperately struggled to keep Xena from opening her wrist veins with her teeth, a number of orators and philosophers trooped through, declaiming loudly about the Meaning of Life. A fight broke out between Demosthenes and Plato, which was only broken up after a delinquent clown sprayed both men with seltzer and threatened to break out the cream pies again...

...An entire orchestra, playing the "1812 Overture" so loudly that plaster was shaken from the ceiling, marched slowly across the floor, their music punctuated by explosions as they fired new-fangled cannons from distant China...

...A herd of tiny, curly-haired dogs, all of them dressed in bows, ribbons and little ruffled skirts, ran about the place, barking shrilly and peeing on the furniture...

Finally, the suffering warrior could take no more. Standing up on the bed, Gabrielle clutching her firm, bronzed legs tightly, Xena shouted, "Enough! Okay, 'Wynna. I give up. You win, okay?"

Gabrielle said desperately, "Please... We're sorry, really. It'll never happen again."

(The author's voice was smug. "Okay. I'll leave you grrrls alone now. Nighty-night!" Her voice faded into an indistinct snigger.)

Xena and Gabrielle looked around cautiously. Every last one of the nightmarish figures had vanished; the room was so quiet, Xena could her own heartbeat thudding in her ears; and there was no trace that the place had become, for an unbelievable moment, a three-ring Circus Maximus.

Xena sat back down shakily. "Bardie-poo," she said, "remind me to never piss off a bard with an overactive imagination again."

Gabrielle nodded in complete agreement... and eventually, they returned to their exploration of Special Stuff... and each other.

Xena and Gabrielle, standing on the deck of the outbound ship, an Athenian trading vessel called the 'Macedonian Melrose,' waved enthusiastically in farewell.

The captain of the Melrose, a pock-marked Ethiopian whose scrambled-egg decorated hat proclaimed him to be another devotee of mighty Aaron, sighed. "Well, we should be in Alexandria in a few days, ladies. Alexandria 90210, in fact. Why don't you go below to your cabin and get settled in."

Xena and Gabrielle exchanged a glance, and Gabrielle said archly, "Did you get it?"

Xena smugly patted her saddlebag. This morning, Mister Pork of Fantasy Atoll would be missing a few items from his guest bedroom... including a highly popular Silesian Egg Scrambler.

"Whaddya say, bardie-poo," the raven-haired warrior said, taking so deep a breath that her breastplate creaked beneath the strain. "Wanna play a little Amphipolitan Alps-Climbing?"

Gabrielle looked at the straining breastplate, her sea- green eyes incandescent. "Sure, dream rabbit. If you'll recite some more of that Spear-Shaker poetry."

Xena patted the saddlebag again. Before they'd left, she had crept down to the library and absconded with numerous scrolls of the Amazonian bard's most torrid love poetry. "Then what the frimp' are we waitin' for?," Xena asked.

Gabrielle grabbed her beloved warrior's hand with a huge smile, and the two women skipped down to their cabin as the rising sun cast rosy fingers of light on the softly swelling waves...

...and Poseidon breathed a sigh of relief and made a mental note to send Bardwynna a nice present...

...and time, who was getting very, very tired by this time and had decided to take off early this millennium, lay down with a cloth on his weary head... and thanked the gods the whole frimpin' thing was finally finished.

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