To Tele the Truth

Previously on the Blog Wars...

It was official. Once again, time for a blog war. The Mod Squad watched as Liz gathered up her assorted muses, most of them looking distinctly unhappy by the prospect of yet another non-bloody, nonsensical war. One of the muses - was it the boy wizard? - asked for chocolate for his efforts.

"What is this about again?" Christine asked. She was wearing her black robes and this time, a powdered wig. Seema hoped that Christine was going to make them beta her legalfic. "Is there a precedent for this battle? Is there a clear and present danger? Is an inalienable right being stomped on?"

"Liz says she's the coolest mod," Seema said. "Because of her smurf flares."

"What are flares?" Lori asked as she wandered by, followed by her entourage.

"Something you keep in the trunk of your car in case you break down on the Mass Pike," Jemima offered helpfully.

"I think they're pajamas," Seema said, "but I'm not rightly sure."

"Isn't this the same mod who called a peach a 'stonefruit'?" Lori asked as she settled into her lawnchair. Sean proceeded to serve Lori a drink, while Russell gave her a foot massage.

"And I take exception to anyone who doesn't use Mozilla to surf and has a distinctive lack of yellow on her site," Jemima added. "Or style sheets. One must have style sheets to be cool."

"And write epics about unusual pairings!" Lori added. The poolboys cheered.

"Or write in a lot of fandoms," Christine said.

"But the idea of smurfs on pajamas is kind of cute," Seema said, musing on whether she ought to go get a pair for herself. Her current pajamas weren't very cute at all.

"There ought to be yellow smurfs," Jemima said. "Wouldn't that be smurfy?"

While all of the Mods stared at Jemima, who never before this moment used the word "smurfy," there was a flurry of excitement by the main gates of the Zen Resort. Christine went off to check what was going on, grumbling something under her breath about noisy fen.

Liz wandered over. "Not to be impatient or anything, guys," she said, "but are we going to have a war or not? I've been ready for a couple days now and all I get are vague declarations. My muses are not happy, Jan!"

The Mods looked at each other. Was there a new mod? Was her name Jan?

But the question was not asked (and since it wasn't asked, it wasn't answered), as the Mods saw Christine being thrown up in the air by four rotund creatures with dilly-popper things sticking out of their heads. One of the creatures was lime green, another red, still yet another was yellow and the final one was purple. All of them had little pot bellies and walked with a skipping gait.

"Eh," Liz said, backing away in horror.

"True evil!" Seema exclaimed, as she crawled under her lawn chair.

"'Something wicked this way comes,'" Lori said in horror as she pulled a towel over her head.

Jemima stared. "What... are they?"

"Teletubbies," Liz said in an ominous voice as the Teletubbies started dancing with Christine. The Mods watched as the Teletubbies cackled with glee and giggled as they hugged, hugged, hugged, and hugged some more. Every now and then, a Teletubby would say, "Whee!" or "Again!"

"Make them go away!" Seema whimpered, cover her ears with her hands.

A big sun came out, with a baby's giggly face in it. Apparently, it was time for Teletubbies Bye-Bye. The baby giggled. The smurfs screamed at weird, obviously not-scientific phenomena. Somewhere, a mother was proud that her baby had been chosen to be the face of the sun. The Teletubbies did a dancy thing again and jumped through holes in the ground. Lori immediately ordered Russell and Sean to pour cement in the holes so that future generations of PBS watchers would not have to be subjected the horror that are the Teletubbies.

"Whew!" Jemima said. "That was close."

"So, about the war?" Liz said.

"Actually," Seema said, "I'd like to see these flares of yours. They sound cute."

"I knew it! I'm the coolest."

"Well," Lori said in her best imitation of Samatha Stephens.

Christine flounced over. "I am not happy, Jan!"

"Chocolate?" Seema asked helpfully.

"Don't mind if I do," Christine said, helping herself to a gigantic box of chocolates from Belgium.

At that moment, a fax showed up magically on the waterproof fax machine. Seema grabbed it.

"It's an application for a poolboy," Seema said.

"There's no applying," Lori said. "You're either a poolboy or not. We choose them, not the other way around. The Zen Resort and the Mod Squad do have a reputation to maintain, you know."

"Economy must be worse than we thought," Jemima said. "So, who is it? Simon from 'Seventh Heaven'?"

"No, it's Bjorn," Seema said. "He wants to be a poolboy."

"Bjorn?" Lori asked. "Bjorn of the 80 million degrees?"

"That's the one. He also asks for special consideration as, despite his identification with the Canadian people, he doesn't want to wear a Speedo," Seema said. She shook her head. "Poor kid. The rain has finally gotten to him."