High Noon at the Blue Lagoon

After a brief hiatus to regroup, I present you yet another skirmish in the Blog Wars

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The poolboys - specifically Sean and Russell - were complaining. They hated vinyl. They hated greasy food. They basically hated the restaurant at the end of the galaxy. In the meantime, Chakotay had apparently taken root in the corner of the restaurant and many a female patron of the restaurant at the end of the galaxy stopped to admire his broad branches and strong trunk.

"Wish I could have a tree like that," one red-head commented as she walked by the assembled trio of fanfic writers - Seema, Lori and Jemima.

"Was that-?" Jemima asked urgently, pulling on Lori's sleeve. "Do you think-?"

"Don't bother me," Lori said. She was typing furiously on her computer. "I just dropped a building on Picard."

"You know, you should really use a Mac," Jemima said. "Macs can do everything a PC can and better."

"I'd rather have a Wiki," Seema said as she sipped on her 80 millionth margarita of the day. (Editor's note: The producers of the Blog Wars do not condone drinking 80 million margaritas in one day for any reason at all. Furthermore, the producers of the Blog Wars believe that 80 million margaritas in a lifetime may be excessive as well. ).

Lori looked up, interested. "A wookie whacks a wikki. Or we could wikki on Contikki. It's a wicked wikki day-"

"Hey! I'm the one from Boston!" Jemima exclaimed. "Only people from Massachusetts say 'wicked.'"

"We could wikki," Lori said. "Will you wikki with me?"

At that moment, Mambo Number 5 came on the loudspeakers and all of the assembled poolboys began to dance around the Chakotay tree. Jemima looked really excited and started moving around in what can only be called an 'original wiki' dance. (Editor's Note: The NEA will be sponsoring a live workshop on wikki dancing at the Restaurant at the End of the Galaxy for those of you who would like to know more about this intriguing new dance form.).

Meanwhile, the poolboys were still complaining, so Lori and Seema thought it might be prudent to pack up the minivan get going.

"Honestly, it's like having a whole house of teenagers!" Lori exclaimed. Her parrot swquaked in agreement. (Editor's Note: We should have hired an English major for this edition, but they were all seemingly busy paying their fic taxes. We'll settle for someone who can spell next time.)

So off in the minivan they went; unfortunately, they had to leave Chakotay behind because he simply no longer fit anywhere and his branches and leaves kept messing up the uphlostery in the minivan.

"So where to?" Robbie asked cheerfully.

"Anywhere that's not here," Seema said. She considered. "You know, the one piece of fanmail we did get indicated that we ought to take a trip into the Stargate universe. Whatdya think?"

Lori and Jemima shrugged. They both looked exhausted from the wikki dancing.

"Do you think we should have thanked the singers?" Lori wondered.

"No," Jemima said. "It's not necessary. It would have been unsolicited, so whether we thank them or not is irrelevent."

"And we're in the minivan now and we're not getting out," Seema said, glaring at Lori. "May I remind you that it was your poolboys who started complaining?"

"Excuse me," Russell interjected, "but I thnk I'm going to win an Oscar anyday now..."

"Look at that," Sean grumbled. "Talking all about how great an actor he is. Nothing I couldn't do with the right make-up."

"Where are we going?" Robbie bellowed.

"Just drive!" Seema yelled. At that moment, the Swiss Department of War Apparated into the minivan.

"You again?" Jemima moaned. The Swiss delegates remained quiet, their eyes going back and forth over the assembled. Their major objective, Seema surmised, was to wear long black cloaks and basically do... well, they were Swiss for goodness sakes! Didn't they have money they needed to funnel away to the Caribbean? (Editor's note: Apparently this author also has trouble spelling "Mediterannean" as well. We apologize for the inconvenience.).

At any rate, the Swiss contingent took up the back seat of the minivan, and they moved just in time; a lawyer, and an entire press corps showed up at that moment.

"I don't believe I said this was a black minivan," the newly arrived blond woman said. "I believe I mentioned something about a dark colored vehicle which could hold 80 million people, plus or minus. I never said it was a minivan. Hello, I'm CJ Craig-" (Editor's Note: We didn't research this fact. We could be wrong. In fact, we're convinced we're wrong).

"The minivan is overloaded!" Robbie screamed and then they were all falling....

When they came to, they were on a tropical island. The ocean was a clear blue and there seemed to be some variety of sharks - well, many variety of sharks - plus some mostly naked people running around.

Seema looked at Lori and Jemima in horror. Somehow, they had jumped out of the frying pan into the fire.

"Are we where I think we are?" Lori asked slowly.

"I'm never drinking a margarita again," Seema said bleerily.

"This place needs a wikki!" Jemima said forcefully.

The mostly naked people were staring at the newly arrived folks in awe. Finally, one came towards them.

"I am Richard," he said. "Who are you? Where did you come from? Why did you come here? What are you doing?"

"And I'm Em," the female said. "I don't feel like doing anything."

Robbie leaned over to Seema. "Can we go home now?"

"Why are you wearing clothes?" Richard asked. "Why is the sky blue? Why is the ocean wet?"

Lori glanced around. "Glad I brought the boys' Speedos," she said cheerfully. Seema looked at her.

"We can't stay here!" Seema exclaimed. "This is the Blue Lagoon!"

"Well, after all the other places we've been, how is this any worse or any better than the others?" Lori reasoned. "At least, there is sun here..."

"But it's the Blue Lagoon!"

At that moment, Christine appeared, slightly out of breath.

"Sorry, I was doing that law thing," Christine said. "But I came a quickly as I could. I see you've met CJ and the others. Very good. Now, I believe we're trespassing, but I'm not entirely sure. Technically, this island belong to Richard and Em, and their baby, and dang, I really, really thought they were dead."

"Alas," Jemima said sorrowfully as she looked at Richard and then at his hair, which in Seema's not so humble opinion, was the most unruly and unattractive style she had even seen. (Editor's note: Yes, this is a Blog War, not Cosmo. Your complaint has been noted.).

Seema flopped down onto the sand. It was hot, and she looked up to see that the sun was climbing high in the sky. It was, she realized, high noon, which could only mean...

Editor's Note: We apologize for this Blog War entry. It was not what we expected. We have sacked the writer. We have sacked the person who hired the writer. We have sacked the person who hired the person who hired the writer. We have sacked the person who hired the person who hired the person who hired the writer. We have sacked the person who hired the person who hired the person who hired the person who hired the writer. We have also sacked the producers, actors and directors of the Blue Lagoon. We apologize for the inconvenience. The writer of this note has been sacked.