"...So... let me get this straight," the rather puzzled voice said after a
long pause.  "You want to hire me..."

	"Yep."

	"...to go rescue..."

	"Yep."

	"...a duck."

	"Exactly."

	There was another uncertain pause.

	Jack frowned in concern and shifted the phone's receiver to his other ear.  
"I'm sorry... I didn't leave out a code word or something, did I?  It's been a 
while since I hired any mercenaries - I'm probably out of touch with the current 
procedures..."

	"Uh, no... I guess I'm just not understanding exactly how you'd want me to 
do this."

	He nodded to himself.  They were canny.  Didn't want to give anything away.  
But then, he expected nothing less.  "Oh, your discretion, of course.  It'll 
probably involve running gun battles in which nobody actually gets hurt, beautiful 
women, a big ol' black guy with a metric ton of gold jewelry, and a tool shed full 
of spare parts that can miraculously be assembled into a machine of utter carnage.  
Same as usual."

	The voice seemed to give up.  "Sir... who *exactly* do you think you've 
called?"

	"Well, the Tokyo branch of the A-Team, of course.  Duh."

	"Nnnnnno, sir - this is actually Baka Akira's Discount Futon Emporium.  I've 
never heard of this 'A-Team'."

	Jack gestured dismissively.  "Yeah, yeah, you gotta keep up your cover.  No 
problem.  C'mon, you gotta help me - I'm desperate here!"

	"I'm sorry, sir, but-"

	"What's the going rate for an extraction these days, anyway?  A hundred 
thousand yen?  Two hundred thousand?"

	This time, the pause was decidedly thoughtful.  "Uh..."

	A door slammed, and a familiar figure stomped into view.  "Hang on a sec," 
Jack said quickly, and covered the receiver with his hand.  "There you are," he 
began a bit more loudly.  "Nobody's heard from you all week."

	An angry mutter was his only response.

	He blinked.  "Uh... we got the studio fixed.  Good as new, if you don't mind 
the occasional sinkhole.  How about that visit with Mr. Duck?"

	The mutter recurred, and if he didn't know better Jack would have sworn that 
it was a suggestion of what he could do with Mr. Duck.

	A small smile began to creep across the Controversial One's face.  "So... 
how'd the date go?"

	"SHUT UP!"  The associate producer whirled on him, eyes blazing.  "I don't 
EVER want to hear you mention that date again!  You *got* that?"

	He raised his eyebrows.  "What about the date review?  Everyone's going to-"

	"Forget it!  I took the tape, and it's safely locked away - NOBODY is going 
to see it.  Nobody!  Now, get ready - you're on the air in an hour!"

	"But-"

	"*DO* it, Lysias!  NOW!"

	As the AP stomped into her office, Jack returned his attention to the phone, 
the tiny hamster-wheels of his mind squeaking merrily and scattering the cedar-
scented shreddies of inspiration hither and yon.  "Okay," he said into the 
receiver.  "It's all right if you don't want to rescue Mr. Duck.  You don't want 
to get involved in high-profile cases, just in case you get caught and are 
imprisoned for crimes you didn't commit.  I'm hip.  How about a simple breaking-
and-entering?  How much will that run me?"

	"Uh, well... I really don't... that is..."  The voice went silent for a 
moment.  "Uh... how much have you got?"

                        -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

                    Working Title Fiction Presents:

                         THE IMPRODATING GAME

                    Created by Delfina and Stephica

                     This Part By Brian Stricklin

                    Part 15: Of Pokemon and... Pie

                       -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


	The curtain rose (metaphorically speaking), and as always, Jack Lysias was 
in his element.  The roar of the crowd, while nowhere near to Ultra's bone-
rattling standards, was still loud and excited, indicating an audience who was 
keenly looking forward to a little HOT PSUEDOIMPRO LUVLUV.  They cheered and 
stamped their feet as the 'Applause' light came on and IDG's all-too-bubbly theme 
music began to play.

	With a manic grin, Jack jogged out from the wings and arrived at his podium.  
"Heya, folks!  WHAZZAAAAAAAAAAAP?!"  Despite the fact that the sight of Jack 
sticking out his tongue and flailing his head was rather disturbing, the audience 
responded in kind.  Which was also a rather disturbing sight.

	Jack straightened his new tie - which had been interrogated fully before 
being hired, and continued.  "Welcome back to the Impro Dating Game, where people 
with absolutely nothing in common are forced to spend quality time together while 
we film their every move.  Just like Survivor, only without the rat-eating!  And 
we've got another GREAT show for you tonight, but first..."

	The screens over the stage changed to the 'Date Review' logo, and the 
audience watched them in anticipation... then began to mutter when several seconds 
went by and nothing happened.

	"This is usually the point where we get to see how last week's winners spent 
their date," Jack explained rather needlessly.  "Unfortunately, our associate 
producer, one of said date-participants, has selfishly decided to deny us this 
right!"  There were many cries of outrage from the crowd, and Jack nodded sagely.  
"I agree, it *is* petty and small-minded, but there's nothing I can do about it.  
I just hope she can live with herself, knowing the heartbreak and disappointment 
she's caused.  Personally, I hear she also enjoys kicking small puppies and wrings 
the necks of baby birds, but that might just be rumor.

	"At any rate," he continued, "let's move right along to our first set of 
contestants!  He's an aspiring artist who's just looking for a break, please 
welcome... Bachelor Number One!"

	Seeming rather uncertain in the spotlight, the young man edged toward his 
chair and sat down amid enthusiastic cheers.  After a moment, he raised a hand and 
waved shyly to the crowd.

	"Now for our next contestant... He likes walks on the beach, British comedy, 
and world domination, give it up for Bachelor Number Two!"

	A larger and more imposing figure stepped out from the wings and strode over 
to his chair, taking a seat nonchalantly.  Rather intimidated, Bachelor #1 scooted 
his own chair a bit away.

	"And last but not least, we have a contestant..." Jack blinked, and watched 
as a shower of confetti fell from his hand.  "...whose information card has 
apparently been shredded beyond recognition, Bachelor Number Three!  Yeah!"

	The third contestant trotted out and, without a glance at the other two, 
hopped into his seat.  They both watched him oddly as he began to groom himself, 
then exchanged mutually perplexed glances.

	"Just wanna take 'em home and tuck 'em in, huh, ladies?" Jack asked with a 
grin.  When silence was his only reply, he shrugged.  "Or not.  Anyway, let's meet 
the lucky girl who'll get to go out with the hunky stud of her choosing!  She's an 
accomplished Pokemon trainer, one of the Cerulean City Gym leaders, and an Ultra 
competitor, give a big IDG hello to... MISTY!"

	On cue, the prepubescent red-haired girl walked out on stage, waving 
cheerily with one hand while clutching an egg-like pokemon with the other.  For 
its part, the pokemon also waved its arms, though this was possibly signs of some 
kind of epileptic seizure.

	As Misty took her seat, Jack leaned on his podium and grinned down at here.  
"Nice to see ya, Misty.  You're a bit young compared to our usual contestants, but 
I guess we need to pull in the lolicon demographics somehow.  And I see you've 
brought your little Furby with you."

	She scowled.  "That's TOGEPI!"

	"Toge-toge-prrrrrri!"

	The Controversial One rolled his eyes.  "Whatever.  It's time to move on to 
your questions."  He held out a stack of cards...

	...which Misty batted away.  "Oh, no, you don't.  I *know* you, Jack.  How 
many of those questions involve my panties?"

	"What?!  Why, I am *appalled* that you think so little of me," he said, 
hiding the cards behind his back.  "Just for that, I won't let you use the 
questions I spent so much time writing up.  So there!"

	"Fine, then.  I’ll just use my own."  Misty thought for a moment.  "Okay.  
Bachelor Number One, what do you look for in a girl?"

	#1 scratched his head.  "Uh... gee, I don’t know... I guess she’d have to be 
sweet, and caring, and just fun to be around."

	The audience ‘awwwwwww’ed.  "That’s really nice," Misty said approvingly.

	"Oh, and it might help if she were good with bandages."

	There was a collective sweatdropping, the biggest of which was on Misty’s 
temple.  "Ooooookay.  Uh, let’s see.  Bachelor Number Two, what do you consider to 
be your most useful personality trait?"

	WELL, THERE ARE JUST SO MANY...  At the sound of Number Two’s impressive, 
reverberating voice, #1 meeped and tried to scoot even further into the corner.  
BUT I WOULD SAY THAT WOULD BE: MY ABILITY TO TERRORIZE MY EMPLOYEES INTO SLAVISH 
LOYALTY.

	Misty blinked, then glared hard at the dividing screen.  "Hey... you’re not
*Bison*, are you?"

	NO, CERTAINLY NOT.  I’VE HEARD OF HIM, THOUGH - HE’S NOTHING SPECIAL.

	#2 turned to face the camera.  YEAH, THAT’S WHAT I SAID!  YOU HEARD RIGHT, 
*MARGARET*.  WANNA MAKE SOMETHING OF IT?  I’LL TAKE YOU ON, ANY TIME AND ANY 
PLACE!  I’LL SMACK YOU AROUND LIKE A RED-HEADED STEPCHILD!

	[Somewhere in Tibet, M. Bison snorted derisively and changed the channel.]

	"Uh... anyway," Misty continued, a bit nervously, "let’s go to Bachelor 
Number Three:  where would you take me on our ideal date?"

	"Wherever you wanted to go," he replied smoothly.

	She perked up.  "Really?"

	"Absolutely.  I’ve always felt that where you are and what you’re doing 
isn’t nearly as important as who you’re with.  As long as you were there and I 
could devote all my attention to you, we could be any place at all."

	"Aww... that’s so sweet!"  Judging from the reaction from the audience, most 
of the ladies present felt the same way.  "Okay, then, the next question’s for you 
again.  What’s your favorite pokemon?"

	"Well, bird types are okay, but I’m probably going to have to go with a 
water type... yeah, I’m definitely gonna say... Goldeen."

	Little hearts appeared in Misty’s eyes.  "You really like water-type 
pokemon?"

	"Oh, definitely.  Whenever I see ‘em, I just snatch ‘em up."

	"Me too!  I got a really nice Tentacool just last week."

	"Those *are* good," #3 agreed, while Jack muttered about wasting time.  "And 
I like Krabby and Poliwag too, but you just can’t beat a decent Goldeen."

	"I don’t know about *that*, really.  Most of the time, I’d pick a Gyarados 
over a Goldeen if I had to choose."

	"Gyarados?  Nah.  Too stringy."

	Misty blinked.  Three times.  "...what?"

	"And I’ve tried Horsea once or twice, but those things are nothing but 
bones.  A Cloister, now... once you get past the shell, it’s nothing but fishy 
goodness.  And deep-fried Seel patties are delicious with a bit of marinara 
sauce."

	While Misty turned an interesting shade of off-white, Jack took a sudden 
interest in the conversation.  "Y’know, that *does* sound tasty.  Actually, I’ve 
had a hankering lately for some Starmie, but I’m at a loss as to how to prepare 
it."

	"I usually prefer sushi-style, myself," the hidden contestant replied, "but 
once you pry out that big rock in the center, the rest would probably be good in a 
stir-fry."

	"Hey, great idea!  I’ll have to-"

	"STOP IT!  Stop it stop it *STOP IT*!!!"  Quivering with anger, Misty 
pointed a finger at the divider while Togepi continued to flail in mindless 
excitement.  "Pokemon are NOT for eating, you... you... sick, twisted FREAK!"

	"Oh, no?"  Misty could *hear* his smirk.  "Then why does your Ultra partner 
always say ‘Pikachu, I chews you’?"

	"Shut up!"  She grabbed Jack by the tie and pulled him closer, her pupils 
blazing furiously.  "What kind of weirdos are you trying to fix me up with, 
Jack?!"

	He raised his hands conciliatorily.  "Hey, I don’t pick ‘em," he lied, "I 
just introduce ‘em.  We’re almost out of time, anyway - how about one last round 
of questions?"

	She glared at him a moment longer, then let him drop.  "Fine.  Anything to 
get this over with.  Okay, one more to all of you, starting with YOU, Mr. 
Disgusting Whacko Number Three.  If we were on a date, and some little twerp, 
*whose name I won’t mention but whose initials happen to be ASH KETCHUM...!*"

	While Misty strived to catch her breath and lower her blood pressure, Jack 
turned and looked at the camera.  "Y’know," he said as an aside, "I didn’t know 
she was old enough to experience *that* time of the month.  Learn something new 
every day, I guess."

	She flushed angrily and redoubled her glare, then took a deep breath.  
"Anyway... if some creep started bothering me, what would you do BESIDES TRY TO 
EAT MY POKEMON?"

	"I dunno.  I could probably throw up on his shoes if you wanted."

	"Why am I not surprised?  Number two, same question."

	NOTHING.

	She blinked.  "Nothing?"

	NOTHING AT ALL.

	"Uh, okay... Number One?"

	"Um... well... I guess I’d tell him to stop... and if he didn’t..."  He 
thought for a moment, then brightened.  "I’d throw bits of broken glass in his 
eyes!"

	For the first time in the history of IDG, *everyone* in attendance, 
including the staff and other contestants, recoiled from a single remark.  
"*That*," #3 said finally, "is *nasty*."

	"You’d maim and blind someone just for bothering me?!" Misty asked in 
horror.

	"Uh... shouldn’t I?"

	After her recovered from his initial shock, #2 handed the young man a 
business card.  KEEP IN TOUCH.  I MIGHT HAVE WORK FOR YOU LATER ON.

	"And here I thought that he’d be the *normal* one," Jack muttered.  "So, 
Misty, who’s going to be the lucky man?"

	"Number Two," she said firmly.  "Not only does he seem a lot less INSANE 
than the other two, but he answered the last question the right way."

	I DID?

	Misty nodded.  "I can’t stand guys who are so full of themselves that they 
think I can’t handle my own problems.  Once I knocked the jerk into next week, 
we’d continue on our date as normal."

	"Makes sense to me," Controversial Jack agreed.  "Okay, before we bring out 
your choice, let’s meet the two you didn’t pick."

	"Do we have to?" she whined.

	"’Fraid so.  First, a junior member of the bandit rebellion, from Suikoden: 
Distant Shores... Pane Panschild!"

	He came around the screen and approached Misty with an uncertain smile, but 
she cringed and flailed her limbs.  "ICK!  Go away, you freak!  Yuck!"  
Disheartened, Pane trudged offstage, dragging his sack of glass shards behind him.

	"And Bachelor Number Three," Jack continued, "a feline after my own heart, 
from Senshi Muyo! (sign up today!), please welcome... Macavity!"

	There was a long pause, then #2 looked around.  THAT’S WEIRD.

	"What?"

	MACAVITY’S NOT THERE.

	"Figures."

	"He was a cat?" Misty asked thoughtfully.  "Well, I guess his answer made 
sense... but it’s *still* pretty yucky!"

	"At any rate," Jack continued, "here’s your lucky date: if it’s good to be 
da king, it must be even better to be da emperor... from Furniture Warriors, it’s 
Emperor Ottoman!"

	Ottoman stood up and walked around the screen, his appearance, as always, 
cloaked in shadows.  WELL, THIS HAS BEEN FASCINATING, BUT IT’S ALMOST TIME FOR RED 
DWARF, SO... UH...

	He was starting at Misty, who blinked back.  "What?"

	*YAAAAAH!*  He screamed and tried to hide behind the divider.  GIRL WITH RED 
HAIR!  GIRL WITH RED HAIR!  MAKE IT GO AWAY!

	While Jack collapsed into helpless laughter, steam billowed from Misty’s 
ears.  "That does it!" she raged.  She reached out with her free hand and snagged 
the evil crimelord’s earlobe and dragged him toward the exit.  "We’re going, like 
it or not!"

	NO, PLEASE... I’LL BE GOOD... HONEST... I WON’T TRY TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD 
FOR A WHOLE MONTH!  PROMISE!

	After they’d gone, Jack stood up and took a few deep breaths.  "Oh, man... 
there’s a guy that has some deep trauma to work through.  Anyway, we’ll be back
after this message."


                        -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

[On the screen, we see Mai Shiranui, standing against a pastel purple grid-like 
background.  The camera is focused mainly on her... upper torso.  Mai begins to go 
through a few martial arts katas.]

[SOUND EFFECTS:]  *boing*  *boing*  *boing*  *boing*

[The scene changes to show Mai jogging in place.]

[SFX:]  *boing*  *boing*  *boing*  *boing*  *boing*  *boing*

[The scene changes again, this time showing Mai doing jumping jacks.]

[SFX:]  *boing*boing*boing*boing*boing*boing*boing*

[Back to Mai jogging again, but at a much faster pace.]

[SFX:] *boingboingboingboingboingboingboingboingboingboing*

[The camera pans downward, to reveal a pair of sneakers with funky red soles on 
Mai's feet.  After a moment, the scene is replaced by the Nike logo, underneath 
which is printed 'NIKE SHOX'.  Two seconds later, this is replaced by a single 
word: 'Boing.']

                          -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

	SO, WHERE ARE WE GOING, ANYWAY?  Emperor Ottoman wasn’t taking the situation 
well.

	Misty looked at the brochure and tickets she’d been given.  "Looks like 
dinner, a movie, and a visit to something called the ‘Antique Road Show’."

	REALLY?  The Emperor looked calculatingly at the ottoman that served as both 
footstool and weapon.  Sure, it was banged up some from numerous battles, but it 
was also several thousand years old.  HMMM.

	A lanky figure shoved past them... or, more accurately, shoved past Misty, 
since the Emperor wasn‘t quite as easy to budge.  "Move aside for my greatness, 
losers!"

	"Wha...?  HEY!"  Misty glared daggers at the young man, who turned around 
before he entered the studio.  "Marlo?!  What the heck are you doing here?"

	The Furnityre Saviour smirked at her.  "That’s none of your business, ya 
flat-chested little brat.  Why don’t you take this big... ugly... uh... gehhh... 
help?"

	WELL, WELL.  Ottoman cracked his knuckles.  IF IT ISN’T THE LITTLE PUNK WHO 
STOLE MY POWER AND TRIED TO USURP MY RIGHTFUL PLACE AS LORD OF FURNITURE SPACE.  
WE HAVE UNFINISHED BUSINESS, YOU AND I.  He paused, and glanced at Misty.  UNLESS 
YOU’D LIKE TO ‘TAKE CARE OF HIM’ YOURSELF?

	She waved magnaminously.  "Knock yourself out."

	CLOSE, he responded, looming over the now-cowering form of Marlo, BUT NOT 
QUITE.

                         -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

	Jack looked up from writing down a few pokemon recipes just as the light 
turned on.  "And we're back!  Let's bring out the three lovely ladies that are 
next up on the auction block.  First, she's admired as a teacher and an 
administrator... some might even call her an icon!  Please welcome Bachelorette 
Number One!"

	"Konnichiwaa~aa!"  The first contestant scampered out onto the stage, waving 
energetically.  "Minna, be good!  Or else!"

	"Second, she's just a girl who can't say no to heaping piles of treasure, 
it's Bachelorette Number Two!"

	A slim figure dropped out of the rafters and plunked herself down into the 
second chair.  "I am getting paid for this, right?"

	"Yeah, sure, whatever.  Finally, we have..."  For some reason, Jack sighed.  
"I'm sorry, but... we have *yet another* mystic-type woman joining us.  How many 
has that been so far?  Four?  Five?  Anyway.  Here she is: Bachelorette Number 
Three!"

	There was a flash of light, and a heavily-robed woman appeared in the third 
chair.  "It is an honor," she said serenely.

	"Uh... sure.  Okay, now for the young man who..."  He peered at his cards 
again.  "Oh, come ON.  Marlo?  He was already on here!"

	The AP stuck her head out from the wings.  "We needed a loan to cover the 
rebuilding, and Nabiki wanted him out of her hair for a night."

	"Fine, fine.  Okay.  Much as I hate to do this: the current Hardcore 
champion in Ultra, Marlo Semaj!"

	Despite Jack's misgivings, the audience cheered... though this petered off 
when Marlo failed to appear.

	"Check your chairs, folks," Jack warned.  "The little creep could try 
anything."  The audience looked around, but Marlo was nowhere to be seen.  Jack 
scratched his head, though was careful not to impale his hand on the spikes.  
"Huh.  It's not like him to miss a grandstanding opportunity...  oh, well."  He 
scanned the audience.  "Let's see here... you!"

	A large man in the third row blinked.  "Me?"

	"Yeah, you.  Come on down - you're the next contestant on Impro Dating 
Game!"

	The man seemed to hesitate then, urged on by the cheers of the audience, 
shrugged and descended to the stage.  Jack wrapped an arm around his shoulders and 
escorted him to the chair.  "Now, you've seen the ladies already, but we'll have 
to make an exception to that little rule this time around.  Just sit down, ask 
your questions, and everything will be fine."

	"Very well."

	"Spiffy."  Jack picked up his microphone again.  "Now, as our substitute 
contestant, we have-"

	Still standing, the former audience member peered at the mike.  "What manner 
of odd device is this?"

	Jack rolled his eyes.  "What kind of rube...!  It's called a microphone, 
Sherlock.  You speak into one end, and-"

	Again, the Controversial One was interrupted, this time as the burly man 
grabbed the mike out of his hand and wouldn't let go.  As he stared at the device, 
an almost tangible sense of... electricity began to surround him, and it gradually 
reached out and infected the audience as well.

	There have been many perfect matches of man and implement in the history of 
things.  King Arthur and the Holy Grail.  Gourry Gabriev and the Hikari no Ken.  
David Lister and curry powder.

	Steinne J'broni and the microphone.

	"Finally," he intoned reverently, "Stine... hath come BACK... to To..." 
*pause* "...kyo."

	While the audience went nuts (and wasn't even sure why), Jack felt a 
migraine coming on.  "Out of curiosity, have you ever been to Tokyo before?"

	Stine blinked.  "Nay, indeed not."

	"Then SIDDOWN!"  The Beastmaster did so, and Jack rubbed his forehead.  His 
own, that is.  "Okay.  You know the rules.  Just ask your questions and take your 
pick."

	Jack found himself at the mercy of a gigawatt-intensity stare, fueled by an 
ego even greater than his.  "Stine will do just that," the large man conceded, 
"because Stine hath chosen to do so, and not because some puling spike-headed man 
who doth have no testicles tells him to do so.  Now, thou shalt get out of Stine's 
way, before Stine doth take this podium, polishes it until it verily shines with 
the light of the heavens-"

	"Okay, okay!  I get the point.  All right, then, 'Mister Thou' - it's all 
yours."  With that, Jack quickly moved to the side.

	Stien raised an eyebrow, then turned his attention to the screen.  Which was 
kind of pointless, really, but oh well.  "Bachelorette Number One," he began, 
"Stine doth want to know what thine opinion is of... heretics."

	"Heretics?  I don't know much about that," the chirpy voice replied, "but if 
we're talking about bad people in general, they should be punished!  A lot!  
Oooooo, they make me so MAD!"

	"That is a good answer," he conceded.  "Bachelorette Number Two!  What dost 
thou think Stine looks for in a woman?"

	#2 made a scornful noise.  "The ability to put up with his big mouth.  
*Duh.*"

	"Know thine role and cease thine jabbering!" Stine commanded.

	"WhatEVer."

	"Bachelorette Number Three!  What wouldst-"

	"A long, cold shower."

	Stine raised his eyebrow as Jack snickered behind his back.  "Stine didst 
not ask the question yet."

	"Oh, I do apologize.  Please, continue."

	Noticing that the audience was staring at him, he cleared his throat.  
"Stine was going to ask what thou wouldst suggest for minor burns on Stine's back.  
'Tis an occupational hazard common to all of those in Stine's line of work, and 
Stine's date must know these things."

	"In that case: a long, cold-"

	"Yes, yes, yes," he interrupted hastily.  "Bachelorette Number Two!  How 
long dost thout think the perfect... kiss lasts?"

	She blushed as the audience hooted in response to the question.  "Well, 
let's see... two seconds to determine how good a kisser he is, and if he's bad 
there's no point in continuing... three seconds to really get into it and enjoy 
myself... mmmm, call it four seconds to check his wallet and take the good 
stuff... add another two seconds of enjoyment... eleven seconds.  Yeah."

	Stine raised his eyebrow again at the 'wallet-looting' comment, but 
continued.  "Bachelorette Number One!  Describe thineself in but three words!"

	"Ooooo, that's a toughie."  #1 considered for a moment.  "I know!  'Size 
doesn't matter!'"

	The eyebrow went up *yet again*, and the audience sweatdropped.  "Stine doth 
see.  Ahem.  Bachelorette Number-!"

	"Four dozen eggs, a Shetland pony, and a Rubik's Cube with two sides painted 
black."  There was another long pause.  "Oh, dear.  I did it again, didn't I?  
Please, go on."

	"...Stine hast forgotten the question now."

	"Shall I tell it to you?"

	"...no, Stine thinks not.  Stine will probably be happier not remembering.  
Bachelorette Number One!"

	"Hai!"

	"What doth thou think about magic?"

	"Magic?  Like, tricks?  Ooooo!  Those naughty students are always trying to 
trick poor, helpless teachers like me!  But after they do, I get to punish them.  
And I really *like* punishing them!"

	"Bachelorette Number Two!  Same question!"

	"Are you kidding?  Collecting magic - well, sort of - is my whole life!  I 
go all over the place, gathering mat... er, magic, and then I take it home..."  
Her eyes went a bit unfocused.  "...and I put it all in a big bathtub, then I 
strip down and sliiiide into it, and I let them roll all over my-"  At this point, 
#2's voice was drowned out by the cheers of the male half of the audience.

	"Y'know," Jack said as an aside, "that explains a lot."

	Somewhat oblivious to the in-joke, Stine continued.  "Bachelorette Number 
Three!  Same question!"

	"Magic is eternal.  Magic is a part of everyone and everything.  When Man 
lives in harmony with the magic around him and within him, he is in control of his 
destiny."

	Stine waited for a moment, suspecting another comment about ponies.  
"...doth that be all?"

	"That is all."

	"We've got time for one more question," Jack advised Stine.

	"Very well.  Bachelorette Number Two!"

	"...and, oooo, they feel so good against my skin, especially when I-"  #3 
leaned over and nudged her.  "Huh?  What?  Oh.  Yeah?"

	"What doth be thine favorite flavor of ice cream?"

	"Hmm... I think I like-"

	"IT DOESN'T MATTER what flavor of ice cream thou doth like!  Stine is ready 
to make his decision."

	Jack stepped forward again.  "Okay, go ahead.  Who'd you pick?"

	"Stine hath chosen Bachelorette Number... One."

	"Really?"

	"Aye.  Bachelorette Number Three, while well-spoken, doth seem a bit too 
creepy for Stine.  No offense intended."

	"None taken," she assured him.

	"...and Number Two doth seem to be little more than a thieving, heretical, 
magic-loving wench."

	#2 growled.  "Yeah, like I'm *really disappointed* that you didn't pick me, 
Ego-Boy."

	Jack shrugged.  "Well, you might wish you'd picked her anyway, because she's 
a real cutie... From both Ultra and Final Fantasy: Fated, here she is: Yuffie 
Kisaragi!"

	Still slightly miffed, Yuffie walked around the screen... then paused as she 
looked Stine over.  "Hmm, not bad," she admitted.  "Almost makes me wish you'd 
picked me.  *Almost.*"

	"Thou art comely as well," Stine said reluctantly.  "But thou'rt a bit too 
young for Stine's tastes."

	She snickered.  "Boy, are *you* in for a surprise."  She bounced over to 
Jack.  "Okay, I'm done.  Gimme!"  He muttered, then pulled a dime bag of materia 
from his pocket and handed it over - Yuffie left the stage, clutching the bag to 
her cheek.

	"Now, let's bring out Bachelorette Number Three," Jack continued.  "Another 
Distant Shores character, she's a powerful prophetess and a real know-it-all, give 
it up for Seer Leknaat!"

	The blind Seer walked around the screen, then bowed before Stine.  "I knew 
you would not choose me," she admitted, "but this was a nice diversion from 
studying in my tower all day."

	He nodded.  "Mayhaps next time Stine will GLURK!"

	Without warning, Leknaat had pulled the Beastmaster close, and was currently 
conducting an oral examination of his tonsils.  He was too stunned to move at 
first, but soon recovered and gave as good as he got.

	Finally, well past the aforementioned eleven seconds, Leknaat released 
Stine.  "Have fun on your date, studmuffin," she said, and were her eyes not 
permanently closed, she would have winked.  Instead, she merely vanished in 
another flash of light.

	"Ahhh... errr... ghee..."

	"Well," Jack said, "now that you've been, shall we say, *primed*, let's 
bring out your date.  She's the cutest little disciplinarian you've ever seen, 
from Lack of Common Sensei, say hello to Hinako-sensei!"

	The seven-year-old girl in the bright yellow dress came trotting around the 
corner.  "Wai!  I get to go on a date!  No marking tests for Hinako-chan tonight!"

	A sweatdrop rolled down Stine's forehead.  "...thou'rt but a child."

	"Well, *yeah*," Jack said.  "You saw them before I pulled you down here, 
remember?"

	"...Stine must have forgotten."

	"C'mon!  C'mon!"  Hinako tugged on his hand.  "Time's a-wastin'!  The 
night's still young, and we've got-"

	"Who the HELL... is sittin'... in Marlo's... CHAIR?!"

	Controversial Jack looked around, then blinked.  "Good Lord.  What the hell 
happened to *you*?"

	Battered, broken, bleeding, and barely suppored by a coatrack, Marlo 
staggered out from the wings.  "Marlo... is here... to get a DATE... and that's... 
what Marlo's... gonna DO."

	Stine quickly stood up.  "Whoever thou art, Stine doth not approve of thine 
slovenly demeanor or crude manners.  Thou shalt leave this place at once, or face 
Stine's fury!"

	The Hardcore champ pulled himself together.  "Oh, yeah?  Well, Marlo don't 
take no lip from some two-bit rube with a kiddie fixation!  Get the hell out of my 
way, or prepare to taste naugahyde!"

	"Hah!  Stine is not impressed by thine chihuahua-like yapping, whelp!  Thou 
dost now know Stine's power, or thou wouldst even now be fleeing for thy life!"

	"Will someone PLEASE get rid of these two?" Jack implored of the heavens.
"I can only take one person referring to themselves in the third person at a 
time!  If Shampoo shows up, my head's gonna explode!"

	"I'll do it!"  Hinako shouted, hopping forward.  "I'll take care of that big 
ol' juvenile delinquent!"  Fishing a coin out of her dress, she held it up in 
front of her as she faced Marlo.  "Hey, mister!"

	He barely spared her a glance.  "Beat it, kid.  I'm busy."

	"HAPPO FIVE-YEN BLAST!"

	A pulse of ki struck Marlo, and within moments all of the energy had been 
drained from his body.  As Stine watched, the now paper-thin Marlo blew away in a 
non-existant wind.  "Impressive," he admitted.  "But now, little girl, I... I... 
Ai-yai-yai."

	There seemed to be a different person standing in Hinako's place.   She was 
in her mid-twenties, and was *very* well filled-out in *all* the right places.  
She was, however, wearing the same dress.  Not just the same style - it was the 
exact same garment, and while it had been somewhat baggy on young Hinako, it was 
deliciously tight on the older version.

	She sighed and ran her hands along her body.  "Mmmmmm... I shou've done this 
earlier."  She linked her arm through Stine's, and pulled him unresistingly toward 
the exit.

	Jack blinked a few times, then loosened his collar.  "Uh... they'll be 
visiting beautiful Downtown Burbank, where-"

	"No need for that," Hinako called over her shoulder.  "We'll be making our 
*own* entertainment."  She snuggled a bit closer to Stine.  "Tell me, handsome... 
do you like... pie?"

	The eyebrow went up.  "Pumpkin?  Blueberry?  Pecan?"

	She chuckled throatily.  "Not quite..."

	Jack wiped his forehead after they had left.  "Whew!  That is one lucky guy.  
And, unless our camera lenses steam up, so are we!  We'll see you next week for 
another episode of Impro Dating Game!  Peace out!"

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AUTHOR'S NOTES

Not much to say here... many thanks to Ciara and Rift for prereading.  Also, SIGN 
UP!  This is too much fun to leave empty. ^_^