The 101st Post - Huzzah To Kat's Bad Memory, And Do Watch Out For The Sheep

(Confetti in the shape of ALW white half masks, Leroux black full masks, and Kay golden full masks, tumbles from the ceiling. A rather large amount falls on top of Ben and Max, who look vaguely displeased with all this.)

Gabe: (Plucking a Leroux mask piece of confetti off of Ben's watch.) Whoa. What's this?

Max: My question exactly.

Ben: As I'm watching Kat make this post, I think I'm qualified to say that she is celebrating our 101st post.

(A sudden flash of black and white fur appears from a door just behind Spencer. Spencer is trampled. But by what?)

David: What the (censored)?!?

Ben: (Getting up slowly, brushing confetti off himself.) Speaking as the Disney geek, I do believe that that would have been 101 Dalmations.

(A Dalmation pops out and jumps onto David's chest, knocking him over.)

David: Awww.

(Max picks the puppy off David's chest and starts to play with it happily, rolling around on the floor. He appears to have found a friend for life.)

Max: And what's your name?

Dalmation: Dallas.

(Lightning strikes. Ben grabs an umbrella.)

Unidentified Voice: (From the Heavens.) Put down that umbrella!

Ben: (Doesn't.)

U. V.: Put IT DOWN!

Ben: (Continues not to put down the umbrella.)

U. V.; Darn you, daroga, put it down I say! Daroga. . .(Falls out of the sky. It's Kat, fuming.)

Kat: Oh, fine. Fine, fine. Just treat me with no respect, refuse to put down your umbrella. . .

Ben: (Puts down the umbrella.) Er, sorry. Are you all right?

Kat: I'm fine. Just make sure I don't start secreting green slime again. . .

Ben: And how, precisely, shall we go about that?

Kat: Damned if I know. But moving on. . .

My friends, my bloggers, my countrymen, and two countrywomen, it's the one hundred and first post. I therefore believe we should begin with a short ceremony in which gifts shall be duly given for your support, salaries, and just general brilliance. Because, yes, it is true, each and every one of you I harbor a degree of affection for. Even, strangely enough, David, who has never even read this damn thing.

I bestow upon you virtual gifts. We shall go in order of the comments on the last post we all commented on. Consequentially, David and the SP may be last, as they haven't commented lately.

So it begins.

(That was for you, SarahBelle. Just so you all know, Sarah is an author on fanfiction.net with some really great stuff up. Check out her page. "So it begins," is her catchphrase. Hey, fellow fanfiction author - this means you.)

So. . .Ben is first.

To the resident Nosy Nadir-like Figure, we offer this limited edition link that I'm sure he'll be able to figure out and possibly win a game faster than I could. (It took me about four tries at first, but I was just getting the hang of it. . .) http://www.thepcmanwebsite.com/media/hexxagon/ And also, (I love this bit) for your official living space at the Opera d'Junior High - A room, that appears to be the inside of a Rubik's Cube. Bwhahaha.

To the Lord High Patron In Charge of Accent Inconsistencies, Something I've Forgotten, And Alaskan Baseball, we offer this mint condition Alaskan baseball in the shape of a Zooglie. What is a zooglie? What is Alaskan Baseball? Why are we here? Why do we die?

To Mickey, we grant a title. And thusly shall be the title. Because now you are summoned, to an audience with Kat, and now she will tell you why, initially, when you bow before my throne, I decree you hence be known, as Mickey, Official Protector of Green Horses That Do Not Eat Children. And I grant you a stable full of excellent green horses. And I grant you a tube of green face paint.

To Gabe, the Lord High Opera Manager In Charge of Overstuffed Pillows, I bestow a large wooden rabbit. That is empty! And also, a man with three buttocks. What you plan on doing with him, I don't really want to know. Probably some twisted experiment.

To Mizamour, the Phantom's Assistant, the J.G. grants the top part in any plays we do here, to make up for the gross injustice of her smallish part in the play she recently auditioned for. So yesh, she is the prima donna!

To Max, the Right Honorable Monsieur Giry, we offer an Operating Theatre for his Opera d'Junior High quarters. Also, in bloggish terms, we offer an official "K.O.M.M." T-Shirt. (K.O.M.M. - Kat Owes Me Muffins.) As well as, just for fun, a fruity beverage fridge, to replace that damned Diet Coke.

Lastly, but certainly not leastly, to the Sane Personage Kat gives a sheep figurine, and a rather infamous modeling photo of an ear.

And thusly pass the gifts.

What more is there to do now?

David: HELP!

(Ben is chasing David. Max is dangling from a tree by his heel. Mac is moaning over a lost love. Mizamour is trying to lasso Erik and Enjolras. Gabe is prodding the man with three buttocks to see if he'll do anything interesting.)

Kat: Well. . .never a dull moment, I suppose.

Ben: (Running by after David.) And now -

Kat: For something -

Both: Completely different.

Erika: You've used that joke too much. Stoppit.

Kat and Ben: (Shrug. Both go off chasing David.)

PotJH Company: SPOON!

I remain, gentlemen, your faithful and obedient servant,

J.G.