Another one that's all my fault. Thanks to Rastro and Carrie for
allowing me to bounce yet another cockamamie idea off them...
WARNING: contains some strong language; standard disclaimers apply....


        Methos reeled down the alley, bumping from wall to wall,
occasionally tripping over the odd garbage can. He was not so much drunk
as hung over, it being nearly six in the morning. He and Joe had stopped
drinking somewhere around... he squinted fuzzily at his watch. Two?
Three? It had been a while, at any rate. And damn, he was tired.
        Slowly stumbling his way along, he paused to tie his shoe, and
that was when he felt the Buzz. He straightened quickly, regretting it as
the alley started to spin. When his vision cleared, a tall man in a long
dark coat (who bore a striking resemblance to Pete Townshend) stepped from
a doorway, sword threateningly in hand.
        "I am The Mysterious Immie Of The Week," he intoned. "Draw your
        Methos sighed. "Bugger off," he said wearily. "I've had a rough
night." With that he started to turn away, but then:
        "Coward!" the man snapped.
        Methos turned, eyes narrowing against the rising sun. Or was it
with rage?? Either way, he narrowed his eyes and said, "You'll pay dearly
for that."
        The Mystery Immie nodded and chuckled. "We'll see," he growled,
and lunged at Methos.
        Methos reached quickly into his coat and whipped out...
        "A bottle of Jim Beam?" the Mystery Immie chortled. "How do you
expect to take my head with that??"
        "Shit," Methos muttered. "Damned unreliable magic pockets...
don't make anything like they used to..."
        "Try again," the Immie of the Week sneered.
        "Just you wait," Methos hissed, and reached into his coat, in a
flash pulling out his...
        "Ice 101?!?!" The other Immortal fairly screamed with laughter.
"This is too much!!"
        Methos' pride rankled. "Aha!" he exclaimed, his hand closing on
what felt like the right thing this time. He brandished the...
        "WILD TURKEY?!" they both yelled in unison.
        "Errgh," Methos shuddered, tossing the bottle over his shoulder.
"Joe musta put it there."
        "Don't kid me," the Mystery Immie said. "I bet it's yours."
        "For that...!" Methos reached again into his coat and brought forth...
        "Fuck," he grumbled. For in his hand was a bottle of Peach

                *               *               *

        "No..." Methos mumbled, tossing and turning in his sleep.
"Must... find.... sword... no... more... booze... no..."
        Just then, Duncan pounded on the apartment door. "Methos!" he
yelled. "Look, I know it's six in the morning, but...."

the end??

C. 1997 

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