RACCCafe: A Return to the RACCCafe

[Arthur Spitzer]

On 12/4/10 4:17 AM, Phantasm wrote:
> On Dec 2, 4:41 pm, EDMLite<robroger... at gmail.com>  wrote:

>
>        "Lite!" a female voice called out as he and Malcolm were about
> to leave.  They turned, as a girl their age with dirty blond hair and
> wearing a suit of battered high-tech battle armor approached them.  A
> rifle of some type was slung from her shoulder.
>        "Twaeila?" Lite asked.  I haven't seen you in..."
>        "Since Dad went net.dead," she replied.
>        "You've grown up."  Indeed, that was true.  When she'd first
> appeared, during the Melissa caper, Twaeila had been somewhere between
> fourteen and sixteen.
>        "A little. Dad decided to age me a few years, making me
> eighteen.  This is the first time he's saying anything about it,
> though.  If only he'd done that *before* he made me plant one on Rob."
>        Waving to Malcolm, Lite took a seat at a booth with Twaeila.
> "Which Rob?" he asked.
>        "Master Blaster," she said dryly.  "I still can't get into the
> whole 'code-name/super-hero' thing in the LNH universe.  And then
> there are those imbeciles who used me without permission, knowing that
> I don't like either code-name I got stuck with.  I've never worn the
> outfit New Look Lass made for me since.
>        "Dad won't admit it," she continued, sliding Lite a beer the
> waitress brought over, "but your Writer is the only one he'll trust
> with using me."
>        "How did you get a beer if you're only eighteen?"
>        "We're in interdimensional space," she said, smiling.  "They
> don't card."


A Return to the RACCafe Part (Whatever)...

Twas the mite before Christmas,
and not a single Chooters T-shirt was in sight...

And... Hmm.  That doesn't sound right.

Oh well, screw the rhyme.  It's Prosing Time!

*Ahem*

Where was I?

Ah, yes.  The RACCafe.  Everyone in the RACCafe was having a Grand Old
Holly Jolly Time.  Yes, a Grand Old Holly Jolly, Eggnog Snogging, Jingle
Bell Ringing, Christmas Tree Rocking, Reindeer Pawing, Mistletoe Tying,
Santa Belly Jelling, Candy Cane Braining, Sugar Plum Fairy Finger Licking
Good Time.

Twaeila, Malcolm, and Lite were having a Holly Jolly Continuity
Reminiscing Good Time.  Kid Enthusiastic was having a Holly Jolly fake ID
and fake mustache Good Time (thanks to the fake ID and fake mustache that
he bought from Tippy O'Tipp (the RACCafe bartender who gives writing tips
to writers and now apparently supplies kids with fake IDs and fake
mustaches for a price)).  Cauliflower the Christmas Miracle Pooch and
Dr. Cool J Dog were having a Holly Jolly Instrument Magic Time as they
played Christmas tunes on their musical instruments (Cauliflower played
the piano by hopping on the keys and Dr. Cool J Dog played the scratching
record player).

Even Goddamn-You-X-mas-Goddamn-You-Straight-to-Hell Lass was whistling a
happy Anti-Christmas Carol as she drank her Anti-Eggnog while typing
another Anti-X-Mas screed on her Anti-X-mas blog.  (Eligible for the New
Character Award RACCie!)

Yes, everyone was having a Grand Old Holly Jolly Good Time.  Except for...

....One Very Bitter and Twisted Soul.

A Very Tiny Bitter and Twisted Soul.

The Easily-Discovered Bran Mite scowled with a deep bottomless hatred at
his greatest enemy (who was having a Grand Old Holly Jolly Time.  Did I
mention that?  I did?  Are you sure?).  Lite.  Lite.  The word wrapped
itself inside the tiny glowing mite's brain like barb wire.  The Destroyer
of all that he had loved and cherished.  The Destroyer of his entire
civilization (that had existed in a Box of Easily-Discovered Bran Flakes)
was having a Grand Old Holly Jolly Good Time.  A Grand Old Holly Jolly
Good Time!  The nerve!!

This could not go on.  No.  He was sick of waiting for his stupid
in-continuity counterpart to get around to destroying this monster.  And
sick of waiting for the next issue of Beige Midnight.  No.  This would end
here.  Today.  This Minute!

Easily-Discovered Bran Mite crackled his tiny mite knuckles and prepared
himself to leap across the room so he could finally tear out the throat of
this smug Mother of all Devil Devils (which if he had succeeded would have
probably have taken a couple of centuries or so considering the size of
his teeth and the size of Lite's throat).

But before he could make the leap, the earth shook (well more like the
Brim of the Eggnog Mug he was standing on began to
move). Easily-Discovered Bran Mite tried to get a grip on the brim of the
glass, but could not and could only watch in horror as he fell into the
Ocean of Eggnog and was sucked into the Mountain Sized Lips that were
slurping him up.

"Bleeahh!" cried
Always-Manages-to-Accidentally-Drink-a-Mite-Who's-Standing-On-The-Brim-of-his-Eggnog-Mug-Everytime
Lad in disgust while he wore his 'Also Eligible for the New Character
Award RACCie!' T-shirt.  "Why do you stupid mites always stand on my
Eggnog Mug!!?  Why??" he said as he tried to wipe the mite taste from his
mouth with a cocktail napkin.  "Why can't I just have one damn mite free
glass of eggnog?  Why? Just tell me that!  Why?!!?!"

"Curse You, Writer Beyond the Fourth Wall!!  Curse you!!!"
Always-Manages-to-Accidentally-Drink-a-Mite-Who's-Standing-On-The-Brim-of-his-Eggnog-Mug-Everytime
Lad shook his fist towards the Fourth Wall.  "I didn't want this stupid
super power.  I was happy just being normal.  It's not fair.  It's just
not fair."
Always-Manages-to-Accidentally-Drink-a-Mite-Who's-Standing-On-The-Brim-of-his-Eggnog-Mug-Everytime
Lad watched as his magic eggnog mug refilled itself.  Should he take
another chance, he thought as he inspected the brim for mites.

Meanwhile, Easily-Discovered Man Lite was still having a Grand Old Holly
Jolly Good Time.

Writer's Note:

Actually, this is better than the idea I have for the actual Mite-Lite
Fight in Beige Midnight.

Arthur "Sad to Say" Spitzer