The Mighty Belthazor

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Veronica wasn't quite sure how she managed to get elected to bring Bel some soup. But apparently love had its limits because Phoebe and Anders refused to go near the room for at least an hour, they were afraid Logan would poison it, Angel had disappeared, which left Veronica and Piper.

Sighing, she knocked on his door, tray in hand. "Bel? It's V. I have some soup for you."

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bridge-carson.livejournal.com

Good thing that phone's within easy reach, since it's ringing right about now.

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The door creaked open, and Bel called out, "Is it green and tastes like ass?"

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Bel answered the phone with "Do you know what it's like to fall in the mud and get kicked ... in the head ... with an iron boot? Of course you don't, no one does. It never happens. Sorry, that's a dumb question ... skip that."

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Bzuh? That message made no sense.

Isabel dailed Bel's number back, wondering what wackiness had struck the Hyperion this week.

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"We are Siamese if you please, we are Siamese if you don't please," Bel sang at the phone as he answered.

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bridge-carson.livejournal.com

"Uh, actually?" Bridge says. "I know what it's like to fall in the mud and get kicked in the head with a steel-toed boot, does that count?" Ranger training kind of sucked some days, you see.

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"Oh man. Who botched the spell and made you sing Disney tunes?" she laughed.

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"Bridge!" Bel said, recognizing the voice from somewhere in the depths of his NyQuil-induced dementia. "How did you get inside my phone?"

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"I'm sorry son," Bel said, "but you must have me confused with someone else. My name is Roger Murdock. I'm the co-pilot."

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"No, sweetie, it's homemade chicken noodle," she said, stepping through the door. "Are you feeling any better?"

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"The furniture is singing to me," Bel said. He was crouched on the bed, glaring at the bedside table.

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"Really? Cause you sound suspiciously like a friend of mine." Bored with school work, Isabel closed the file she was working on. Bel was much more entertaining.

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"Have you ever been in a Turkish prison?" Bel responded.

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"Oh, really?" Veronica said, setting the tray on the offending table. "Anything good?"

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"Fortunately no. But I do have a harem girl costume." She might have to pull that out this Halloween.

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"NO DON'T!" Bel yelped. "It'll get the soup -- too late. Can't you hear it? It can't get no satisfaction. It can't get no girly action."

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"Are you trying to seduce me?" Bel accused. "Because it won't work. I'm chaste. I'm a nun."

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"I'll protect the soup," Veronica promised. "And what kind of satisfaction is the table looking for? I mean, doesn't it get enough of a show with you and Phoebe and Anders?"

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bridge-carson.livejournal.com

"Well," Bridge says. "It's actually very fascinating- on a "complexity per cubic inch" scale, cell phones are some of the most intricate devices people use on a daily basis. Modern digital cell phones can process millions of calculations per second in order to compress and decompress the voice stream, which is how you get me 'in' your phone."

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That sound through the phone?

Was Isabel gasping for air as she laughed herself silly.

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mparkerceo.livejournal.com

Right. She's been drunk-dialled. Or something. No *way* she's not calling back.

*rinnnnng*

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