Assigned to Mordor RPG

[Celuien]

Panakeia cautiously picked her way down the steps. Walking with one stiletto heeled shoe and one flat shoe was a challenge at any time, more so while attempting to carry a heavy sample case down an unevenly graded, crowded, litter-strewn flight of stairs. Shoved from behind by a large man in a business suit who was in a rush, she was only saved from falling by tipping into a woman ahead of her.

She turned to face Panakeia. Her red, teary eyes were nearly swollen shut from conjunctivitis. Phlegm ran down her face from a raging cold. "Ere, wbbuy duch oo ink oo're goin?" she mumbled through a stuffy nose.

"I beg your pardon?" Panakeia replied.

"Wbbuy duch oo ink ere oo're goin?" the woman repeated in a louder tone. "Oo puched me."

Panakeia thought for a moment, trying to figure out what the woman was saying. "Oh, I see. Sorry about that. It was an accident."

The woman shrugged. Suddenly her face contorted, nose wrinkled, upper lip drawn back, and eyes squeezed even more tightly shut than before. She grabbed at Panakeia's scarf, which was instantly pulled back by a ducking Panakeia, and sneezed, spraying the business-suited man behind with cold virus. He began to yell. Snickering, Panakeia wove through the crowd, now stopped to gawk at the confrontation, and reached the bottom of the steps. A large map of the BilddyUnnergrind stood there, covered in used chewing gum and graffiti. The graffiti puzzled Panakeia. Most of it was the usual stuff of Mordor, illegible scrawls and scribbles. But mixed in with the waving lines were several messages such as "No new fare increases" "Down with the Transit Authority" "Fûmës for Transit Chief" and "Free Willy!" All of the material obscured the map so much that it was impossible to read, other than the words "You" and "here" on a red dot above Rût’s Lip Garden Station. The "are" was covered by a particularly large piece of gum. Panakeia pulled her map out of her pocket. Now that she had a better idea of where she was, the map made more sense. Red line to Potted Ham Court Road, change trains for Edge-Where. Seems simple enough.

Off she went to find a ticket counter. The line stretched back all the way to the stairs and didn't appear to be moving. Panakeia stood her sample case on end and sat down. At least it's good for something. I've lugged it around long enough. She waited. And waited. And waited. Panakeia began to despair. What's taking so long? I'll never make it to Edge-Where on time. But at last, she stood at the head of the line. An Orc stood behind the counter, snapping gum in her mouth. Panakeia thought she recognized the shade of blonde the Orc had dyed her hair. It was the same as Panakeia's, wrought through the wonders of Pearie Ockcide Potion.

"Good morning, afternoon, evening and morning again! Welcome to the Rût’s Lip Garden Station. My name is Tiffany. It is my pleasure to serve you with a smile." Here she smiled, baring a row of yellow, jagged teeth. One was gold, and another had Tiffany's gum on it. "How may I assist you today?"

"I'm going to Edge-Where."

Tiffany nodded. "Yes, indeed. Edge-Where. Edge-Where? Hmm. I'm very sorry, but it's not on this line. Perhaps you would like to visit Chance of Rain instead?" she queried hopefully. "I hear the weather is beautiful there."

Panakeia tapped her foot impatiently. "No. Edge-Where. This line goes to Potted Ham Court Road, true?"

"Indeed it does, madam."

"Well, then you change trains for Edge-Where, can't you?"

Tiffany looked puzzled. "I'll have to ask my supervisor. Please wait." Tiffany hung a "Closed" sign and vanished. 20 minutes passed. Tiffany returned, carrying two tickets in her hand.

"My deepest apologies for the inconvenience. You are correct. Here are your tickets. One to Potted Ham Court Road, and the next to Edge-Where at the end of the Grey Line. The southbound track is to your right, my left. Or is it my right, your left. In any case, the track is that way." Tiffany pointed to the left. "3 Trolls, 75 Maggots, please."

Panakeia stopped. "Wait. The fare is 2 Trolls, 50 Maggots."

Tiffany smiled and nodded. "Yes, that is correct. But we charge half-fare for transfers."

"Oh, alright. Prices always go up. Don't they ever go down?"

The smile faded from Tiffany's face. Her eyes widened and her voice dropped to a raspy whisper. "You aren't one of the Fûmësists, are you?"

"Tiffany, I had never heard of this Fûmës before today, and I wish I never had." Panakeia slammed her fare down on the counter and snatched her tickets. "I just want to get to Edge-Where." She stormed off to the track. At the edge of the platform, three street-musicians, clad in brightly colored striped shirts, stood tuning their instruments. The instruments were odd. One was white and round as a Hobbit's window. The two others looked somewhat more ordinary, shaped similarly to a fiddle, but with a large hole in the center. All three musicians held their instruments in front on them. One of them then stood in front of the rest and began to speak at the top of his voice.

"These are the times that try our souls. In the course of our history, the people of Lûndûn have rallied bravely whenever the rights of men, women, Orcs, or individuals of any gender, nationality or species have been threatened. Today, a new crisis has arisen. The Mordor Transit Authority, better known as the M. T. A., is attempting to levy a burdensome tax on the population in the form of a BilddyUnnergrind fare increase. Citizens, hear me out!" He gave added emphasis to each of his next words, as if in warning. "This could happen to you!"

All three began to pluck their instruments. And the man began to sing.

Well, let me tell you of the story of a man named Willy on a tragic and fateful day.
He put ten Crows in his pocket, kissed his wife and family, went to ride on the M. T. A.

Well, did he ever return? No, he never returned and his fate is still unknown.

Here, the other two performers injected.

What a pity! Poor ole Willy. Shame and scandal. He may ride forever. Just like Earendil.

He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Lûndûn. He's the man who never returned.

Willy handed in his Crows at the Ents Stand Square Station and he changed for Chance Of Rain.
When he got there the conductor told him, one more Warg. Willy couldn't get off of that train.

Well, did he ever return? No, he never returned and his fate is still unknown.
He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Lûndûn. He's the man who never returned.

Now, all night long Willy rides through the station, crying, “What will become of me?!!”
How can I afford to see my sister in Uruk-bridge or my cousin in Queen’s Bury?

Well, did he ever return? No, he never returned and his fate is still unknown.
He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Lûndûn. He's the man who never returned.

Willy's wife goes down to the Rût’s Lip Garden Station every day at quarter past two.
And through the open window she hands Willy a sandwich as the train comes rumblin' through.

Well, did he ever return? No, he never returned and his fate is still unknown.
He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Lûndûn. He's the man who never returned.

Now, you citizens of Lûndûn, don't you think it's a scandal how the people have to pay and pay?
Fight the fare increase! Vote for Eckaust Fûmës! Get poor Willy off the M. T. A.

Well, did he ever return? No, he never returned and his fate is still unknown.
He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Lûndûn. He's the man who never returned.
He's the man who never returned. He's the man who never returned.

The lead singer turned to face the track. “Ain't you Willy?” he wailed.

As if in reply, a train came rushing down the track. A haggard looking man leaned out the window, and the assembled crowd called out “Willy! There’s Willy! We’ll save you. Free Willy!” And a woman hurried up to the still moving train with a brown paper bag. As it stopped, she handed the bag to Willy. A cheer went up, and half of the people in the crowd tossed coins to the musicians, who promised to take it directly to Mr. Eckaust Fûmës to aid his campaign and hopefully, save Willy from his terrible fate.

Panakeia rolled her eyes. "Oh please. Another political campaign stunt. Ridiculous."

A gullible man next to Panakeia stood wiping tears from his eyes. "How can you say that? Poor Willy!"

Panakeia shook her head. "Look at all the money. If they were really trying to help this Willy, don't you think they would just hand him the extra Warg? They have at least 20 Trolls there. My guess is that Willy is in on this too. It's a brilliant plan."

The man's expression changed as he considered Panakeia's words. But he said "No, I don't believe you. No one would ever be so dishonest."

What a fool, Panakeia thought to herself. Seems like a perfect customer. Just as she was preparing to work a sales pitch on him for some Instant Bodybuilder Protein Shakes, the train doors opened and the conductor came out onto the platform.

"All aboard for the southbound red line. All aboard for South Rût’s Lip, Orc Hold, and points south. All aboard."

Panakeia stood up, lifted her sample case, and shuffled toward the train. As she reached the edge of the platform, the doors began to shut. "No!" she cried. With a final effort, Panakeia shoved ahead and slipped onto the train just as the doors closed behind her.

[the guy who be short]

Though he had tried to keep up when she had been rudely snatched away, Fléin had now, to his despair, completely lost sight of Wilhelmina. Perhaps his only chance of company in this forsaken city was lost, in the grasp of reality showism.

Well, maybe now that he was alone (excluding the several million Lûndûners rushing around, of course) he could get some thinking done. What he really needed was somewhere to sit and ponder, or maybe just sit.

He wandered around a little, still slightly dazed, until he found a grimy sign proclaiming his presence at Amon Haradow. He inspected the sign more closely - to the North was North Haradow. West Haradow lay to the West. To the South was Far Haradow. The sign posting to the east was too grimy to read, and his eyes were streaming, but he could warrant a guess as to what lay in that direction.

"Curse this place! Curse Mordor!" he roared to the world at large. A few people glanced at him. He swore again, at a complete loss and still bench-less. What could he possibly do now, save maybe swallow his pride (Pride? What pride is there in this land?, he thought bitterly) and ask somebody where to go.

He approached a singularly odd looking man in a top hat, his arms full of chocolate bars. "Excuse me-" he had began but the man seemed to have no intention of listening to him.

"Want to buy a Wonka bar, eh? Delicious Wonka bars... my own brand, don't you know, and ever so good to eat. See this egg? Try it! Try it! Free!" He thrust a small chocolate egg into Fléin's hand.

"I really don't want to-"

"Eat it! Eat it!" he continued as quickly as before. "Oh, it's new, you know, but don't worry, it's quite safe; or at least, it is for Oompa loompas, not that you know who they are, but my dear Dwarf, don't just stand there, try it and tell me what you think!"

"But I just want to ask you-" the Dwarf tried again, to no avail.

"Oh please, don't make this more suspenseful than it has to-"

"WHERE EDGINGVILLE IS!" Fléin finally managed to scream into the annoying man's face.

"Well, now, there's no need to be quite so rude" said the easily offended amazing chocolatier, walking off in a huff.

Fléin signed. At least the conjunctivitis appeared to be clearing up... his eyes weren't quite so watery anymore. He decided he definitely needed a rest. Once his bottom had a little support, his mind could get on with some thinking. But where was he to find any place to rest in Lûndûn? Should he approach another stranger? Considering how the last one went, it didn't seem a very appealing proposition, but there was little else to do.

Crowds were still speeding past in both directions on the pavement. Fléin walked across, planting himself firmly in front of a man in a suit, presumably one of the many bureaucrats in Mordor, and accosted him. "Excuse me, my good Man, I'm looking for somewhere to rest," he said loudly, "and if you won't be of any assistance, I'm of a mind to use this axe." He indicated the axe on his back.

"Er... well... erm, there is... that is to say... erm, you could... there is Ma Cuddonelds, a fast food place... nearby."

Fléin allowed the man to direct him to the lunching house and left him, much relieved, to go on his way. So it was that the Dwarf came to the notorious Ma Cuddonelds.

[Kath]

Sai grinned as Alli tried to backtrack on her outburst without being seen as admitting to being mistaken. It looked as though Mardil was also trying to stifle a smile, and she was glad to see he had understood that leaving the comment as it stood would be better for all involved. However, Mardil's new empolyer was not so quick on the uptake.

"What you talkin' bout girl?! The best chance you got of gettin' famous is this guy right here." He cried, throwing his arm around Mardil's shoulders in an overly friendly manner, seemingly missing the look of disgust that crossed the other mans face.

Alli's mood headed straight back downhill upon hearing this and she opened her mouth to retort. Not wanting another argument to break out, Sai got in first and began to gabble words as fast as possible as she grabbed Alli's arm and tugged her towards the van, keeping a wary eye out for any flying fists.

"Of course, thank you Mardil we'd love to be on this record with you. Shall we go now? We need to get this done soon so we can get on to Edge-Where. Do you think we'll get any money out of it, we'll need some for the Unnerground."

Reaching the back of the van she pushed Alli inside and followed suit herself, hoping Mardil would hurry up and join them so they could shut the doors before Alli recovered from her shock at being manhandled.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"No, you don't understand," whispered Alli in a faster and more paranoid way than usual. She was looking around the van distractedly, beginning to breathe quickly. "I can't go... please don't make me do this. I'll walk there... please... Please let me walk. I'll walk. I'll get there quickly, just don't make me do this. Please." Alli felt deeply ashamed at what she considered to be weakness in her... her claustrophobia was kicking in. She felt like she was trapped... the walls of the van did not seem to loom, but she was overly-conscious of how small the yellow vehicle was. Once Mardil and the record crew were inside, she would be too close to people... no matter where she sat or how she positioned herself, her personal space was about to get invaded by people that she barely knew.

She shuddered a little bit and looked truly pitiful to Sai before a sound snapped her from her chatter. The door was opening again. The man who had told her that this was her only shot to fame was coming in. Alli leaned forward, all shows of irrational fear gone, and grabbed him firmly by the collar.

"Listen up buddy," she spoke quietly but very forcefully. "If you speak down to me once more, you're going to regret it. If you make me famous, you're going to regret it even more. I am in this van because I have no choice and because it is the quickest way to reach my goal. If my straight shot from right there," she pointed to where she'd been before Sai had so strongly encouraged her into the van, "to Edge-Where becomes anything different than a straight shot, you should understand by this point what my feelings will be. Do I make myself clear, and do we have an agreement?"

He nodded his head, astounded that this mere slip of a young woman could intimidate him so easily. She had no weapons, he noticed, and she wasn't really big enough to hurt him by sheer force... slightly taller than average, he thought, but slender as Britney Spears. He contemplated for a second handing her the official looking document that Anakron had sent for her that would force her to work as a scantily clad backup dancer for Spears... Looking at her very serious grey eyes, that were really, he noticed with interest, blue with specks of many colors, but in any case seemed to gleam with potential for any of a number of emotions, none of which he really wanted to experience until her long fingers were somewhat farther away from his neck, he kept the document safely hidden. He'd shred it when they got to the studio. Anakron might be annoyed, but what could he really do about it... send the man to Mordor?

When the man looked properly respectful, fearful, and reminiscent of somebody about to wet himself, Alli straightened his bling for him and patted him on the head.

"I'm glad we're clear on this. Now let's get going, please?"

The man was suddenly very glad that he was not Lord Mardil II or this other girl and actually had to travel with the lass. Quickly he positioned himself in the opposite corner as her and everybody else, looking a bit confused over the travel delay, boarded the van. Mardil looked at Alli a little worriedly, but said nothing. As soon as the door was shut, the record man whispered in the driver's ear and the van raced down the road. Alli watched an old woman jump out of the way as the vehicle jumped the curb. She stared intently at her intertwined fingers... she could feel the heat from Mardil's body radiating through her side. She could smell the overpowering cologne of the other man beside her. She could see both of their legs pressed up against her own in the cramped space and she couldn't wait to get out of there.

[Encaitare]

It was not long before Wilhelmina found herself inside a small room, sitting in a chair in front of a one-eyed creature similar to the one toted by the Uruk-hai. Karís Mâtiktwít had told her to talk to the so-called "kamura" for a few minutes, explaining her reaction to the task that Anakron had given to her. "Don't mince words," he had said. "Say something nasty about the rest of the Offending Party, if you like. Drama sells. Not nearly as much as sex, of course, but" (here he looked at Wilhelmina derisively) "let's face it, dear, who are we kidding?" And with that, he disappeared through a curtain, leaving her alone with the kamura.

The old woman stared at the thing for a few moments; it neither moved nor blinked. She tapped it with her walking stick, and it didn't move a bit. 'I won't be moving a bit either unless I can get away from this ridiculous show,' she thought. 'Best to play along for the time being, and then...' Suddenly she had an idea. She smiled to herself, and began to talk.

"When my name was selected by Anakron, I felt like I was the most important person in the universe. And I am, you know. I want you all to know that. I'm going to get out of Mordor much more quick than anybody else. Isn't that right, Mr. Swanky?" The ferret crawled out of the caverns of Wilhelmina's hat and allowed her to pet him. "This is my friend Mr. Swanky. I only feed him licorice, and if he's especially good, dead flies. Unfortunately he's got a bad case of conjunctivitis, and some kind of cold -- I think it's the polluted air in this city. Say hello to the kamura!" She held the ferret in front of the unblinking eye just in time for him to sneeze all over it.

"Hey!" Mr. Mâtiktwít appeared, throwing the curtain aside. "What--"

"How was that, Mr. Mâtiktwít? Just like you asked, right? Let's get going," she breezed, placing Mr. Swanky on her shoulder and walking straight past him. If she had turned around, she would have seen him make a horrible grimace, but since his teeth were in quite a deplorable state, perhaps it was for the best that she didn't.

~*~*~*~*~

"We're stopping here, Karís," Wilhelmina declared, halting abruptly in front of a bakery.

The man blinked. "Whatever for?"

"It's lunchtime, and I need something to eat. I've had an insatiable fruitcake craving all morning." She pushed the door open and didn't bother to hold it for him. "I'd like to purchase one large fruitcake," she told the apron-wearing Orc behind the counter. To the reality show host, she said, "I want to sit at that table by the window."

"It's already occupied," Karís protested, not realizing the difficulty the Uruk-hai was having getting the kamura through the door, which he hadn't bothered to hold open either.

Wilhelmina put her hands on her hips. "I am the star of this show, and I say I want to sit by the window! Make them get up!" The man scurried to the table, and slipped the couple sitting there a Troll to make them leave. Wilhelmina immediately flounced over and sat down with her fruitcake.

"Er... I think I saw a restaurant down the block," Karís said, jerking his thumb in that direction. "I'm going to go get something to eat and bring it back, alright?"

"No. You can have some fruitcake."

"I think I'd really prefer--"

"I said fruitcake!"

The man meekly sat down and tried the fruitcake, which was about as hard as a diamond but slightly more colorful. Wilhelmina heard a cracking sound and hoped it was one of his teeth.

"I need some gum," was the next thing she said to him. "Go to the candy shop I saw next door and buy me a pack or five of cinnamon gum. I want all different flavors." She observed his hesitation and continued. "Hey, if I'm going to be filmed by you, then you're going to have to keep me happy. Got it? You wouldn't want to lose the star of your show, would you?" Karís scrambled towards the door and bolted for the candy shop.

"What are you looking at, you overgrown Orc?" Wilhelmina rudely asked the Uruk-hai.

"I'd be much obligated if you'd be so kind as to call me a Native Mordorian," said the kamuraman, accidentally using the wrong word in his haste to promote political correctness.

"And I'd like it if I were Queen of Gondor, but you can't have everything, can you?" said Wilhelmina. Then she spotted Karís returning with her chewing gum. "Or maybe I can..."

[the phantom]

The van ride was extremely bumpy. Mardil wasn't sure if the street had a lot of bad potholes or if they were running over pedestrians who foolishly believed that the street was an appropriate place to walk. Sai was directly in front of him sandwiched between two copyright lawyers. She sat in a slumped position staring straight ahead as the two men talked over her head.

Alli was leaning forward and breathing a bit heavy and kept looking around at the ceiling and walls, as if they were too close for her comfort. "Claustrophobic?" Mardil asked.

Alli took a large breath and paused, like she was considering her answer and perhaps gathering herself to say something untrue. "No," she said, and then she turned and gave Mardil an awkward look, which Mardil figured was meant to appear confident and at ease.

Mardil nodded and said "Okay," but he was thinking "You're lying, Alli."

Alli looked down at her hands again, obviously uncomfortable. Mardil nudged her arm. "What do you want?" asked Alli, still looking at her hands.

"Trade spots with me," said Mardil, thrusting open the window next to him as he spoke. "I want to talk to that RCA representative sitting next to you and it would be easier if there weren't someone between us. Plus, this way you will be able to look out the window and get some fresh air. Surely that will be more interesting than staring at your hands. With the traffic around here, it could take us a good thirty minutes to get there."

[the guy who be short]

Fléin walked into Ma Cuddonelds, perhaps just a little apprehensively. He had, of course, heard of it before, vaguely and in passing. Most people seemed acquainted with it. The large, yellow, spiderlike symbol above the doors was instantly recognisable - he'd seen it on litter for years. But what was Ma Cuddonelds?

There were chairs and tables all around the doors, stretching into the building for a few score metres. And there, right at the back, were several orcs behind a counter, an unsanitary looking kitchen behind them.

Two years in Mordor, and still Fléin could hardly look at an orc without shuddering, his hand unconsciously moving towards his axe. Still, he had to be politically correct, or at least pretend to be so. Or did he? Wasn't that one of the things he was trying to escape from...? He marched up to the counter.

"Excuse me my good Man-"

"Native Mordorian, please," the Orc simpered. Fléin shuddered.

"Yes, yes. What... this is an Inn, yes?"

The Orc explained that the establishment was indeed an eating house, or a fast food company, as some preferred, but that it was no ordinary inn. As words such as "Multinational corporation," "Providers of institutional food," "false allegations of food poisoning," and "possible halitosis" whizzed by, Fléin started to nod off. The story of Ma Cuddoneld herself, and her capitalising upon her brilliant ideas (such as using slave labour to increase profits and reconstituting chicken nuggets from diseased meat) passed him by completely. A long queue starting forming behind him, and when the person behind him pointed this out, the Orc simply started rambling about the history of language, and how the word queue had seemingly changed meaning after it's transition from French to English. He seemed to ramble on and on.

"Interesting, isn't it, how a queue is almost like a tail, in that it flows behind you, but of course, I had the most horrendous French teacher, don't you know, threatened to eat my legs, and my mothers, all of them, if I didn't do well, but never mind all that, what would you like to order?" he finished at last.

Fléin asked about the menu, and was told to choose from "a burger, large, medium or small, either cat, fish, lemming, possum, rabbit, raccoon, squirrel or any other furry animal, with optional purple ketchup, or else a bag, large, medium or small, of candy, flies, liquorice, bees, or slugs. There's also a choice of lima beans, chocolate, chewing gum or fruitcake, with either cola, coke, pepsi, coca cola, soda or mountain dew on the side."

Fléin signed at the unimaginitive, quasi-traditional Mordorian menu. Sometimes he really did long for a nice mug of ale and some nicely cooked chicken...
"Medium lemmingburger, please, and hold the purple ketchup," he replied.

After eating his meal at a small window table (it had come with purple ketchup, and was grossly overpriced at one troll fifty, and altogether wholly unsatisfying), he decided he really needed to sort out where this Edgingville was, and how he was to get there before the end of the day. It was already midday.

*******

Half an hour later, Fléin was still puzzling over the useless map. Amon Haradow... it had to be here somewhere. The map was still of Lûndûn, no matter how odd the names. Haradow... Haradow... Edgingville, too, was mysteriously absent.

The Dwarf sighed and, deciding that a short nap would clear his wits, set his head upon the rather sticky table. He closed his eyes, immediately regretted doing so for obvious reasons, sighed again and tried to get to sleep in the middle of the very busy restaurant.

[Kath]

Sai was keeping her body in as tight a hold as possible as the van lurched from side to side, not wanting to come into any more contact with the two lawyers on either side of her than she had to. They both reeked of the city and she was having to keep her head down to avoid gagging. Not that either of them even seemed to notice she was between them anyway. They were talking about warranties and tax codes and custom checks, and all the time using double negatives and passive voice and mispronouncing words so that Sai was having to bite her tongue not to scream at them. Even worse though, the two of them continually punctuated all their points by waving their arms about, so she was being hit in the head every few seconds and was starting to worry about a possible concussion.

Her patience was already running very thin when one of the men's arms hit her in the nose. The pain caused her eyes to water like crazy and she finally lost her temper. Grabbing hold of the arm that had just hit her she took hold of the little finger on the hand at the end of it and bent it backwards. Pulling herself upright again she carefully bent the man's finger until she could see his eyes begin to water as hers had just done.

"Hit me again, and next time, I won't stop here - understood?"

The man nodded, trying to edge away from her without moving his finger, a feat he was failing at quite miserably if the look on his face was anything to go by. Satisfied that she had made her point Sai let go and settled back down, finding that she inexplicably had more room. Her method of attack may have been less fierce than Alli's, but it seemed to have been just as effective.

[the phantom]

With a not very well hidden look of relief, Alli agreed to trade Mardil spots and sit next to the window. It was easier said than done though. The rows of seats were quite close together, not really leaving enough room for two people to squeeze past each other. On top of that, there was the continual bouncing of the van on the substandard streets. Needless to say, an awful lot of contact was made while switching spots, which, though he didn't show it, Mardil rather liked.

Once he was situated next to the RCA representative, Mardil asked "So- you have a document that requires that I accompany you to RCA and work out a record deal, correct?"

"Yeah, homey, that's what we got," answered the man.

"Don't call me 'homey'. My name is Mardil."

"Aw, sorry 'bout that hom- uh, Mardil. Heh- that's a tight name, man- Maarrrdiiilll! S'got a ring to it, ya know. Maaarrrdiiiillll!! Ha ha ha!" Mardil shook his head. He was beginning to regret switching seats. Oblivious to Mardil's annoyance, the man continued. "Mardil... Let's go chill with Mardil! Ya can't hold still with Mardil! Let's pop some pills with Mardil! Yeah, ha ha! Your name'll be real useful when we start bustin' out with some rhymes! "

"Oh, goodie," said Mardil.

"Hey, sorry Mardil, I never told you my name," said the RCA representative. "My real name is Jamal Octavius Jones, but I go by Doctor Drive-by."

"How wonderful," said Mardil.

"Thanks, my man. Now, about that contract. How's about we negotiate that right now, homey?"

"Look, I'm not your 'homey'!"

"Can I call you bro?"

"No!"

"How 'bout MacDaddy?"

"Definitely not!"

"Whaz wrong wid MacDaddy? All it means is a pimp who has reached the zenith of his profession. That's a compliment, man!"

Just as Mardil was about to grab Dr. Drive-by by his throat, the van screeched to a sudden halt. Everyone slammed into the seat in front of them, except the lawyer sitting in the middle front. He went flying through the windshield.

"We're here!" announced the driver.

"I'm suing!" screamed the bleeding lawyer in front of the van.