[Fan Fiction] make up a big o scene!

The worst had happened! Roger and Angel were married. Dorothy would never forgive the look of triumph Angel flashed to her as she flounced down the aisle with Roger. Somehow Dorothy made it through the wedding and the reception, saying all the right things as she smiled gracefully thorough gritted teeth. “One must accept what can not be changed,” she thought stoically.

Angel was human and Roger thought that she was very beautiful. Although Dorothy thought that Angel looked like a floozy, even she had to admit that Angel was impressively stacked. However Dorothy found comfort in meditation. She frequently meditated on how far south Angel’s stack would drift over the next few years while her own little B-cups would remain perky for centuries. Phrases like, “How y’all doin’, Mr. Belly Button?” and “Buenas dias, kneecaps,” gave her the giggles for hours.

She took further comfort in the thought of the cellulite that would one day collect on Angel’s firm buttocks and thighs. “Angel likes Hagen Das," Dorothy mused. “I must make sure we never run out. I know she likes chocolates too. Roger wouldn’t mind if I set up an account with the local candy store and have them send Angel a five-pound box of chocolates every week,” Dorothy thought with a cunning smile. “Angel will think it’s a gift from Roger and Roger will be pleased with my thoughtfulness.”

“Oh, Roger, you didn’t forget our six month anniversary!” Angel cried as he stepped off of the elevator. Roger looked confused until Dorothy winked at him and whispered. “I had the confectioner’s shop send her a ten-pound box of chocolates.”

“Thanks, Dorothy,” Roger whispered back gratefully. “By the way I like your new uniform.” Dorothy had convinced Angel that it would be more efficient not to mention more economical for her to work in something with less fabric than the matronly black dress she used to wear. Dorothy found that she could perform her duties much more effectively in short shorts and skin-tight low-cut tank tops.

Late that night Dorothy heard angry words coming from the direction of Roger’s and Angel’s bedroom. A few moments later a door slamed and Angel began to cry. Trying not to feel too pleased, Dorothy went back to her sewing.

The next morning after Roger left to visit a client, Angel entered the living room red-eyed and weepy.

“Angel, is something wrong?” Dorothy asked.

“It’s Roger,” she sniffled. “He said that I was getting…,” another sniffle. “That I was getting faaaat.” Angel wailed.

“Roger is a louse,” said Dorothy vehemently. “Angel, if you were getting fat you wouldn’t be able to fit into your clothes.”

“You’re right,” she replied. “In fact my pink body suit is a little loose in the thighs. Dorothy, would you mind taking it in for me?"

“Of course not,” Dorothy answered. “Angel, you need something to make you feel better. Come with me.”

Leading Angel into the kitchen, Dorothy asked Norman if there was any Hagen Das left.

“Good morning, Mistress Angel,” he said with a small bow. “I bought several pints this morning, Dorothy. Oh, I nearly forgot. A messenger arrived earlier with a box of chocolates for Mistress Angel.”

“If Roger really thought you were getting fat, Angel, he would not have sent you chocolates,” Dorothy said placing the ice cream and a spoon in front of Angel.

Angel smiled as she picked up the spoon.

“Excuse me,” Dorothy said looking at the kitchen clock. “I must leave now or I will be late for Georgie William’s piano lesson.” Soon after the wedding, Dorothy began giving piano lessons to a few of the neighborhood children.

“Angel, I’ll alter your body suit after I return. Some of your dresses are loose as well. Shall I alter them too?” asked Dorothy.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, Dorothy. You’re a good friend,” Angel mumbled around a mouthful of ice cream.

Politely bidding Angel and Norman good bye, Dorothy left. As she walked toward her pupil’s home a grin worthy of R.D. snaked across her lips. The Williams kid was a tone deaf little brat, but his father owned a fabric store and let Dorothy barter piano lessons in exchange for fabric. At the rate Angel was gaining weight Dorothy would need all of the fabric she could get if she was going to continue copying Angel’s wardrobe in larger and larger sizes.

“Poor Angel, she’s so down in the dumps, maybe I’ll buy a cheesecake on the way home," Dorothy’s smile grew wider. "That should cheer her up.”

Wow, 6 moon dance, you've certainly shown a vengeful side of Dorothy. Choking Angel with cream!

Pygmalion

That's pretty funny, dude. Dorothy and her fat-building solution rocks!

Kudos!

Ha ha ha!

quote:

“Roger is a louse,” said Dorothy vehemently. “Angel, if you were getting fat you wouldn’t be able to fit into your clothes.” “You’re right, Dorothy,” she replied. “In fact my pink body suit is a little loose in the thighs. Would you please take it in for me?”

As soon as I read that I knew what was going on.

sneaky sneaky....

Revenge is a dish best served cold. Like ice cream

Ou LA LA! That was great! I knew when I saw the title: Dorothy's Sweet Revenge, it was going to be good. GOOD JOB!

Later,
Pen1300

This was a great story. Well thought out.
I think that Angel should consider Pat Robertson's weight loss program or take cooking lessons with George Foreman.

hehehehehe!

I really like that, 6 moon dance!

LOL! I like the devilish side of Dorothy.

Poor Angel!

hehehehehe!



BabyGhia

quote:

Originally posted by BigRoomA This was a great story. Well thought out. I think that Angel should consider Pat Robertson's weight loss program or take cooking lessons with George Foreman.

LOL I like Pat, and trying to picture Angel on the 700 Club, well, that was hilarious. I can just imagine how a segment after an interview like that might go:

Pat: You know, some of those Rosewaters are actually really good people -- what Alex did just went beyond the pale, but Angel is not a bad girl. Now if she would just do something about her wardrobe -- maybe she could hang out with Avril Lavine for a little while or something -- oh well, Gordon, what's next?

Gordon: Later on in the program, we'll have a segment with a well known negotiator on the importance of not letting past mistakes ruin the rest of your life, but coming up next, it's time for another round of "Bring It On." This time, DW from Paradigm City asks "How do you feel about physical relationships between humans and androids?" That's next, after the break.

Pat: Whoa, am I glad to have a commercial to think about this one!

Vermillion

Me Being Sick + Me Being Bored = Me Writing Scene. Dorothy's thoughts on the word normal. Eh, it's nothing great, but...



Normal. What is it?

It is easily defined. The software father gave me can give an exact definition;

nor·mal (P) Pronunciation Key (nôrml) adj.
Conforming with, adhering to, or constituting a norm, standard, pattern, level, or type; typical.

But what is it truely? How do humans clasify normal? As an android, is this a concept I can never grasp?

Roger tells me to act normal, but what is it. Is it to act like he does? Or maybe act like that women, Angel, does.

With so many others out there, what normal standard should I adhere to?

I have seen people on the streets, hungry and in need of shelter and heat. Is that not their normal, to be homeless and hungry.

What of those women who sell there bodies for a profit? Is degrading themselves not normal? The have become accustom to doing so, so how can it not be normal.

Is being normal simply being who you are? If so, how can I be normal? Who is myself, what is my pattern? Can I ever be normal?

But, am I not already myself? I do not know who else I could be. Even if I have taken the real Dorothy Waynewright's former image, she is not who I am today. I can not be her, even though I use her form.

Yet I wonder, what was her normal? Was it calling someone a louse? Was is tending to fathers whim? What would her normal be if she lived on?

Is normal just a pattern? Something you do, without even realizing you've done it again? If so...

Yes, I do have a normal. Calling Roger a louse is my normal. Helping Norman is my normal. Standing by all of them is my normal.

I am my normal.

Now that is interesting. What would normal be in a place that has no memory of what was normal more than 40 years ago?
Perhaps Roger refers to being normal in this case as acting more like human girls do, and not nessassarly how Angel acts.

This is just a little Heaven's Day story I thought up.

It was December in Paradigm once again. Dorothy found herself becoming quite accustomed to Roger's traditions. Of course she found them to be rather peculiar. Peculiar was the term, he hadn't celebrated Heaven's Day as most other humans. On rare occasion Dorothy and he would exchange a gift but as two years went by she was curious as to one custom he had in particular.It was alien to her but she had grown fond of it. Perhaps fond wasn't the word, but rather strangely attracted to the ideal.

Every Heaven's Day Eve Roger had made it a habit to visit a home. Dorothy was aware enough to notice that it wasn't any ordinary household. Though large, it was no mansion. Every year she'd follow Roger in. Roger had a plethora of playthings in tow, Dorothy knew because she was in charge of bringing them in while Roger chatted with a woman clad in black. She had a long weary face and dormant eyes but her smile remained unchanged, always gracious and vibrant. It was like she was trying to mask something that was clearly visible in her life, but her smile always managed to throw Dorothy off.

Roger asked that the toys be left under a dying tree in a cramped sitting room. It was sickly, it's once green needles grew to a rusty brown as they floated towards the floor. When Dorothy inquired who the gifts were for, Roger only responded with a heavy sigh and explained in a word, " children."

" Children?" Dorothy asked quizzically," Young humans. Why aren't their parents giving them gifts?"

Roger's face flashed in mortification as he gazed perplexedly at Dorothy. " Dorothy." He practically whispered." These are special children, they don't have parents."

" Why?"

" Either their parents died or they were abandoned."

" So I'm like them too?" Dorothy responded innocently," My father is dead."

" Yes Dorothy we both are. Do you understand now?"

" yes." was Dorothy's reply.

Dorothy recalled the conversation as she carefully laid the precious packages beneath the weary tree. She heard a few muffled coughs from the young children in the playroom awaiting for "Santa's" visit. Dorothy was tempted to stay to watch the children's reactions but Roger thwarted her plans.

" Lets go Dorothy." He demanded a tinge of melanchony coating his voice.

Dorothy didn't question why Roger always left right before the children had gotten to open their presents but it did seem odd to her. As soon as Dorothy heard the snow crunching under Roger's footsteps it occured to her to ask him.

but Roger only replied " We wouldn't want to ruin their imaginations, its the most precious thing they own."

As Roger and Dorothy mounted the Griffon Roger inquired as to what she wanted for Heaven's Day. Dorothy paused and responded " One imagination please."

That is so sweet, truly. And sad at the same time. I also like it because it's believable, it feels like it could've happened during the series. I can honestly see him doing something like that, he has a social conscious. (At least I think so.)

Good work! I've been trying - and failing- to write a Heaven's Day fic. You did so very well.

This is the beginings of something I started writing in study hall for the past two days. As it is BLATANTLY OBVIOUS, there is much much much much much more to go...but hell I ain't giving up! @_@ I thought that since LT did "Blues Brother", I might try my hand at a holiday spoof using "A Christmas Carol"
Comments, suggestions, and tips are welcome! ^_^
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
---------------

((Note: I've taken some poetic license on this...like Roger is still working for the MP, but Dorothy and Schwarzwald are still around (ish).))

The scene opens outside the Military Police Headquarters. A layer of snow covers the city but people still wander around outside. The people of Paradigm City actually smile when they pass each other, for tomorrow is Heaven's Day...but one man isn't smiling. A tall man, peering out a window from inside the Military Police's HQ, looks out over the city. He leaves his office and goes down the hall looking through the frosted windows as he goes. A slight winds shuts the office door, the title on which reads COLONEL DAN DASTUN. Suddenly he spies a man. slightly thinner but just as tall, rushing into the building. He hurries into the lobby to meet him.

Roger: "Sorry I'm late sir...I was--

Dastun: "Second time this week Roger. A close that door! It's letting in the cold."

Roger: "Sorry, sir."

Roger closes the door, takes off his coat and goes to filing reports.



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Yah like I said...I've just barely begun. Still much more to go with this so I'll be adding to this post and adding more posts as I progress. )

quote:

Originally posted by evanASF27 This is the beginings of something I started writing in study hall for the past two days. As it is BLATANTLY OBVIOUS, there is much much much much much more to go...but hell I ain't giving up! @_@ I thought that since LT did "Blues Brother", I might try my hand at a holiday spoof using "A Christmas Carol" Comments, suggestions, and tips are welcome! ^_^ --------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------- ((Note: I've taken some poetic license on this...like Roger is still working for the MP, but Dorothy and Schwarzwald are still around (ish).)) The scene opens outside the Military Police Headquarters. A layer of snow covers the city but people still wander around outside. The people of Paradigm City actually smile when they pass each other, for tomorrow is Heaven's Day...but one man isn't smiling. A tall man, peering out a window from inside the Military Police's HQ, looks out over the city. He leaves his office and goes down the hall looking through the frosted windows as he goes. A slight winds shuts the office door, the title on which reads COLONEL DAN DASTUN. Suddenly he spies a man. slightly thinner but just as tall, rushing into the building. He hurries into the lobby to meet him. Roger: "Sorry I'm late sir...I was-- Dastun: "Second time this week Roger. A close that door! It's letting in the cold." Roger: "Sorry, sir." Roger closes the door, takes off his coat and goes to filing reports. --------------------------------------------------------- Yah like I said...I've just barely begun. Still much more to go with this so I'll be adding to this post and adding more posts as I progress. )

OOH!
Which ghost is Schwartzwald going to be?

quote:

I am my normal.

I love that line. It really hits home. I work with autisitc children and their families and also have a son who has Asperger's syndrome. Some of the children I work with are severely involved while others are on the milder end of the spectrum. The one thing we all have in common is that we are constantly redefining our ideas of what is normal.

Written in half an hour, on the fly, and kinda rough. Still the idea wouldn't leave me alone. Spoilers for Act 26.

spoiler (highlight to read):

This comes from the idea of a complete reset- which means that everyone, including one Roger Smith , has lost their memories of the last cycle. Well, almost everyone. Two people remember.

A meeting between two women.


Tea and Sympathy

The sun still refused to shine. There was only such much even she could do for the City. Sunshine and warmth weren't in her power. (Yet) But the temperature hovered just below seventy, and at least it wasn't raining.

"I miss the rain, at times," her companion said over a coffee cup. Angel didn't immediately answer. Instead, she stretched back against her chair. She let her head drop back. For a moment, she let herself be lost in the clear gray light of mid morning in Paradigm City. No sunshine, but at least it wasn't overcast.

Only for a moment. Her companion was patient when it suited her. Her grasp of social skill was still underdeveloped. Both of which meant she would either sit and wait for the answer, or bring the question up again later. Usually at an inconvenient time and in an inconvenient place.

She sat back up. As she expected, R. Dorothy Wayneright sat watching her intently. "It can't rain all the time," she told the android. "Even I'm not that melodramatic. Leave that up to Rosewater."

Dorothy slightly inclined her head. Carefully, she lifted her cup and took a sip of the coffee she still couldn't taste. Angel felt a stab of responsibility that was becoming too familiar for her taste. She couldn't bring the sun back. She couldn't make Dorothy a human being, any more than she could bring the android's "father" back to life. As powerful as she was, too many important things were still beyond her control.

"I suppose they don't remember the difference," Dorothy said. She didn't say who they were. She didn't need to- "they" were all around. At the table beside theirs, at the counter, walking down the sidewalk. The everyday citizenry of the City of Amnesia. The ones who didn't remember. The ones who didn't care to remember.The ones who had the choice to remember taken away from them.

Again.

"I do," Dorothy continued. "I remember, and I find I have a preference for the rain."

Angel pushed her chair back from the table. It was getting late, almost half past nine. She had things she had to do today, and God only knew the Paradigm Corporation couldn't run itself. "We all have things we preferred last cycle," she tried and failed to keep the bitterness out of her voice. A useless endeavor, because even now Dorothy was more observant than most gave her credit for being.

And maybe Angel wasn't, because she almost missed the small shift on Dorothy's supposedly expressionless face. "He passed by me on the street, yesterday."

Dorothy didn't need to be specific. They both knew all too well who she referred to. A thought they were both beyond the point where something as small as a walk-by could still hurt. Apparently she was wrong. "What did you do?"

"Nothing."

She wouldn't. She was unhampered by Angel's emotional responses. By now, Angel knew this didn't mean the other woman didn't understand what it meant to miss someone. Perhaps it would be better for both of them to just drop the subject.

"What did he do?" Angel asked despite herself.

Dorothy set down her cup. "Stopped and looked at me for a moment, as if he were about to say hello. For a moment, I thought he knew me."

Coming from anyone else, the words would be laced with a healthy dose of self pity. From Dorothy, the words were as dry as a simple statement of fact. Perhaps her lack of sentimentality was one reason Angel had come to value their tenuous friendship.
Or perhaps it was one hell of a case of mutual survivor's guilt.

"I'm not surprised," she admitted. "Something is...different...about this cycle."

Angel had the feeling that if she could have, Dorothy would have smirked. As it was, there was a definite hint of sarcasm in her usual monotone.

"More unusual than you and I being the only one to retain memories of the last cycle?"

"Something like that." Angel signaled for the check and paid the bill. "Same time tomorrow?" She knew the answer before Dorothy gave it. They both needed this strange daily ritual of tea and sympathy. But it was still oddly nice to hear Dorothy say yes each day. Today was no exception.

Not that she'd let her relief show. "Bye Dorothy." She left the sitting in the cafe without looking back.

fin

What a wonderful set of stories you guys are posting! I love this thread and am very glad to see it resurrected!

LillyRose, that was wonderful! That made me so sad to read about Roger almost remembering Dorothy. I really like that Angel and Dorothy are the only ones who remember the last cycle.. it forces them into a strange kind of friendship. I'd love to read more if you decide to continue. )