WAR: Cousins: Buzzin’ at the Hive

By Cousine Celeste and Gozer the Gozarian

Time: Sunday night, July 15
Place: The Hive, at the UF party
Immediately after “Party Time”

Cindy the FoD appears by permission.  Thanks, Cindy!

"Time to go in and check it out!" Shelley had said, ringing the bell of UF
Headquarters.  She, and the cousins with her, had looked smashing, as did
Uncle himself, though the mind behind that small, superior smile was that
of Janette.

Celeste was one happy Little Cousine-with-Ravenly-Leanings.  She’d spent
the afternoon being pampered, having a mani and a pedi, and if that weren’t
enough, a facial and a massage, and had then been ferried by limo to this
smashing UF party.  Arguably one of the least scruffy of the Cousins, she
was in her glory, swanning about in a little black silk designer number
that Janette had insisted she wear.  It hadn’t taken much
insisting.  Neither had she declined to “borrow” the lovely art
nouveau-style jewelry the misplaced-vampiress had picked out for her from
one of LaCroix’s personal jewel boxes.  Janette had pointed out that the
jewelry was, in fact, her own, dating from about the turn of the previous
century, when she and Uncle had traveled together from Paris to New
York.  “I totally forgot that I’d left these pieces in his care,” she’d
sniffed.  “I may give them as prezzies if I so choose.”  She had been
pleased to find the rare cousin who appreciated fine clothing as much as a
Ravenette.

The Hive was located in a lovely, large mansion, surrounded by lush
gardens.  The house itself was quite elegant, its high-ceilinged rooms
decorated with chandeliers that lit the rooms with a soft, flattering
glow.  “Man,” thought the Cousine to herself, “These UFfers have one sweet
deal!  If only I could convince myself that Uncle and Nick were… *cough*…
*that* way.  I’d join up in a New York minute.”

There were honey cakes and fine wines, good tunes on the CD player, and
mostly a good time.  There’d been a rather chilling moment or two when the
woman with the scary smile who’d greeted them at the front door, Julia, had
put the screws to the team that had attacked the Hive earlier in the war,
but Celeste had successfully edged away from the tense conversation,
innocence personified.  Her excuse:  to get a better look at the rather
large piece of modern art painted on one wall; but once she saw it up
close, she wished she were back having the tense conversation with the
others.

The mural depicted a pair of skunkish caricatures of Nick and
LaCroix.  Skunks!  Yick!  Last year her darling fluffy calico,
Scully-wully-woo, had very sweetly attempted to wash the head of a small
skunk, no doubt thinking it was a kitten.  The skunk at taken
offense.   Celeste had seen the entire horrible incident from her porch,
powerless to stop it, and the house had smelled of Eau-de-Skunque for
about 24 hours.

Suddenly Cousine Celeste became aware of a presence hanging over her right
shoulder.  Turning, she saw the floating head of her little Everett-cat,
Gozer the Gozarian.  Something about him seemed… off.  He was staring hard
at the large mural with his little nose wrinkled in disgust, and suddenly
blew a little kitty raspberry.  “Everybody’s a critic,” said the
Cousine.  She shrugged, then went to the bar for a glass of Merlot, the
head of Gozer floating behind her like a balloon on a string.  Once she got
to the bar, he fully materialized and dropped down to the polished bar-top
on all fours.  That’s when the Cousine got a really good look at him.

“G-g-gozer,” she stammered, fighting the laughter threatening to bubble
forth, “you’re *plaid*!”

And so he was!  He was usually a mostly-white cat
with patches of tiger-striped fur all over his body and a ringed tail, with a
half-M on his forehead as the tiger-striping seemed to be falling off the
side of his head, leaving one ear almost all white.  Now, wherever the
tiger striping had been, there was plaid.  Apparently the FoDs who had
plaided CERK had found Gozer sleeping in Celeste’s office, and had
carefully plaided all the tigery areas on his body.  It was an almost
fluorescent plaid, too, painted in day-glo colors.  “So, that’s why I
haven’t seen you for a while, huh?  You got all plaided up and couldn’t
wash it off.”

The little cat looked shame-faced for a moment then suddenly his little
pink and plaid nose lifted and *sniffed.*  A few feet away, a woman leaned
on  the UF bar, an umbrella drink clutched in one hand, smiling and tapping
her other hand to the music.  Gozer growled softly, then began to pad
menacingly down the bar towards her.  Some sort of supernatural good
fortune caused the woman to glance up the bar, where she saw the
fluorescent Gozer, evil in his yellow reptilian eyes, stalking her like he
was a lion, and she, a gazelle at a watering hole.  A gazelle with a broken
leg and a big sign saying “Eat Me” taped to its heaving sides.  “Gleep!”
the woman cried, flinging her drink into the air and running for cover.  It
was the ever-FoDly Cindy, she who had broken into CERK and plaided the
joint, as well as plaiding the snoozing Gozer.

*You will pay* thought  Gozer, *Yes; oh, yes; you will PAY!* and he
launched himself at her where she scooted behind a table of appetizers.

Thinking quickly -- about food as a good FoD should -- Cindy yanked a huge
platter of chopped chicken liver off the table and held it out between her
and the irate pussycat.  Gozer stopped in his tracks on the table.  The
FoDly smell of the Evil Plaid Person could not be detected under the
bewitching smell of… whatever was on that plate!  He didn’t know what it
was, but it smelled delicious, and soon it was cat food.  The little cat
crouched over the platter, purring with pleasure and gorging himself on
chopped chicken liver as Cindy backed away from the appetizer table, to be
lost in the crowd of party-goers.

Celeste had watched it all from the bar, powerless to stop it, just like
the time she’d watched Scully and the skunk.  “Wonder what the heck *that*
was about,” said the Cousine, who had no idea why Gozer had attacked that
perfectly nice woman who'd been so innocently standing at the bar.  “All’s
well that ends well,” she muttered, then turned to investigate the
possibility of
another fine glass of Merlot.


Cousine Celeste & Gozer the Gozarian
gozer@channel1.com