Huckleberry Angel

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by James Callan

You don't know about me without you have seen a show by the name of Buffy the Vampire Slayer; but that ain't no matter. That show was made by Mr. Joss Whedon, and he told the truth, mainly. There was things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth. That is nothing. I never seen anybody but gone evil one time or another, without it was Buffy, or Giles, or maybe Willow. Giles -- Buffy's Watcher Giles, he is -- and Willow, and Buffy herself is all told about on that show, which is mostly a true show, with some stretchers, as I said before.

Now the way that Buffy's season three winds up is this: Buffy and me destroyed the demon that the mayor'd turned into, and it saved the world. . . Buffy, she wanted to take me for her boyfriend, and allowed she would sivilize me; but it was rough living celibate all the time, considering how dismal passionate and loving Buffy was in all her ways; and so when I couldn't stand it no longer I lit out for Los Angeles. I got into my old trenchcoat and my saving the helpless girls again, and was free and satisfied. But Doyle he hunted me up and said he was having visions from the Powers that Be, and I might join if I would pay attention to his visions and be good.

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