[The lights fade up on a stage set that resembles a very low-budget community-theater version of Caritas. Onstage are a very startled Betsy and Dana, who have just finished "Perpetual Anticipation" from A Little Night Music. Since they are writers and inherently shy, they flee to the wings.

The Host strolls on, clapping slowly, strikes a diva pose, and belts out the future as he sees it.]

   THE HOST
Just wait...
Tim knows.
When the show starts tonight
Angelcakes with monks must fight
In baggy clothes
Staffs and fangs and wirework, too
Such derring-do!
No-one will doze!

Tim knows.
Maybe I'll snatch a kiss
From that undead bag o' bliss
Surely it's fate?
At least I hope he will comb his damn hair
(It's like Gruyère
Ripe on the plate.)

[During this verse, the Host has drifted carelessly over to the wings, and the authors don't realize their danger until it's too late. A green hand clamped firmly on each of their arms, he drags them back out onto center stage. They shift nervously and squint at the lights.]

   HOST
Can you wait?
Yes, you can.
At least you're not
Unamerican.
It could be worse.
   [Host adopts saucy French accent.]
At least you're not Canadien.
If you were
You would sure
Feel you were cursed.

[The authors try to make a break for it, but those scaly green arms are stronger than they look.]

   HOST
With a twitch
With a sigh
Time so slowly
Saunters by
Watching the clock

You can't stand it
Any more
Gotta see
Who will be
The laughing-stock.

   HOST [Spoken]
"And what's that GGG nonsense all about, anyway? Didn't you hear about the fillies at the watering-hole?"

   BETSY
"And you were doing what? Teaching them show tunes?"

   HOST [hastily breaks into song]
Maybe the hair folks
Gave up on smoking Nair, folks
While you weren't there, folks
Let's hope.
Cordy's streaks? They'll be gone.
Wesley's sweaters just moved on
Gunn lost his shirt!

   DANA [interested]
"What about Lindsey?"

[Betsy elbows her in the ribs; the Host winks at Dana and says "Later, kid."]

   HOST
Come on, première, light up the set
Don't be late
Demonstrate
Greenwalt can hurt
The tube is humming
And angst is surely coming

Tim knows.
   [gives his captives an evil grin]
So you two just
Bide your time
Until the time is prime
Until tonight...
Until tonight...
Until tonight...

[He raises his arms to acknowledge the applause in his head. Unfortunately, he releases the writers in the process. They leap from the stage (Dana taking great care to land on her uninjured ankle) and flee down the aisles as if Hell were after them. Which it well may be.]

Author's Quote

"Yes, the meter's that weird in the original. Blame Sondheim and Bernstein, not us. "

Originally posted in Angel 3: The Schmuck Bait Arms (#3303), WX, September 24, 2001.

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