Sidekicks A Highlander parody by Cagey Legalese: None of the Highlander characters belong to me. Neither do the M&Ms, Amanda's hat, the back rooms of Joe's bar, or Paris. Bob the B'immie is mine, as is the story, so please do not reprint without permission. I *love* blues music, so don't shoot me. This is a parody, so only chuckles, inquiries into my sanity, or invitations to join mailing lists of like-minded warped individuals are welcome. Sidekicks "Oh, my baby left me, I just don't know what to do. I think that I might shoot myself, Or maybe buy a new pair of shoes..." "Joe!" The abrupt shout brought Joe Dawson's heart-wrenching, poignant, enchanting and yet incredibly depressing warble to a stop. "What?" the Watcher demanded irritably, perturbed at having his one solo of the season interrupted. He looked up from his guitar to see the only other occupants of the bar--four Immortals gathered around their customary table playing poker Amanda- style (black clothes required, whips and chains optional)-- staring at him, exasperated. "Can't you play something a little less...depressing?" Duncan MacLeod continued. "It's really hard to concentrate on the game with all that moaning going on...." Amanda and Richie nodded their heads in agreement. Methos the Oldest Living Immortal Who is Adam Dammit or Vice Versa We're Not Really Sure popped a blue M&M which had been serving as a poker chip into his mouth and gave Joe an apologetic shrug. "Fine," Joe huffed, muttering under his breath about Immortals who hung out at the bar after hours, running up enormous tabs which they never intended to pay. "I bought myself a gun, I shot him till he was dead, and then when he was out cold, I took his Immortal head!" The poker players winced, but Amanda had to admit that the tune was a *lot* more upbeat. In fact, the song itself reminded her of that time... "Amanda? Hey, Amanda, it's your deal," Richie said, prodding her shoulder. He got not response from the Immortal deep in her flashback, and sighed. "Great," he muttered. "Can't you guys control yourselves?" the young man demanded of the older Immortals. Methos simply took a long swig of beer and stared at the boy pointedly. Richie had the good grace to wince, given Methos' startling revelation about why the Oldest Living Immortal Who Is Adam...(you remember the rest, don't you?) did not have flashbacks. Duncan, on the other hand, ignored the comment and pushed himself up from the table. "Well, if she's going to be in a flashback for a while, I'm going to take a...break." He ambled off into the nether regions of the bar, in search of a bathroom or a convenient plot device. Instead, he just missed the entrance of the Konvenient Plot K'immie, who burst through the front door in a shower of wood splinters. "Hey!" Joe complained. "Why didn't you just knock?" "I am Bob the B'immie!" the man snarled, trying to pick splinters out of his tightly molded leather pants unobtrusively. "Er, Bob the K'immie! I've come for the sidekicks of MacLeod!" "Bob?" Richie snickered. The Immortal waved a sword threateningly in his direction. "Watch it, *Richie*," he said, emphasizing the name with a snarl. "Richie, Richie, Ro-richie, Banana Fana Fo-Fichie, Me Mi Mo Michie..." he sang. As Richie's expression darkened, Methos put a restraining hand on the boy's arm. "Now, Richie. You know that you aren't allowed another Quickening until the RFW's finish paying the bribe to the scriptwriters." Richie grimaced, but slid back into his chair. Darn bribes. "Uh, excuse me," Joe interrupted the villain's playground taunts, leaning forward with interest from his seat on the stage. "Did you say that you came for MacLeod's sidekicks?" Bob the B'immie...er, K'immie, placed the tip of his sword on the ground, using it as a prop to lean upon. "Yeah," he admitted, picking a stray piece of M&M shell from his teeth with a particularly large splinter. "I kept trying for powerful Immortals with their own shows, but I was always written out. I realized that I needed to lower my goals." His expression grew belligerent. "Why? You wanna make something of it?" Joe held up his hands in submission. "Oh, no, nothing like that," he replied conversationally. "I've just never heard anybody *admit* it before." But Bob had already turned his attention back to the poker players. "So the boy won't fight me?" he demanded. He lifted his sword again and pointed it in the direction of Amanda. "What about her?" Methos shook his head sorrowfully. "Sorry. She's flashbacking. There's no telling how long she'll be out of it." Bob growled, irritated. "Well what about you, then?" he insisted. "Fight me!" Methos took a sip of beer. "Hey, I'm the Real Old...I mean, the Oldest Living Immortal. *Not* a sidekick." (WARNING: as a Cavalry member, I am obliged to trample anybody who thinks that Methos is protesting just a *shade* too much there. So don't think it!) He shrugged. "Besides, if I wipe the floor with you now then the debate over the level of my swordfighting skills might be truly and conclusively answered. And we couldn't have *that*, now could we?" Bob stamped his foot. "But who can I fight, then?" he wailed. "Well laddie, perhaps I could be of service," a voice called from the doorway. "FitzCairn!" the three non-flashbacking people exclaimed. Hugh FitzCairn, lounging in the doorway, tapped his pipe out carefully and nodded in acknowledgement of the greeting. "You see, the power of dedicated fanfic writers can overcome any scriptwriter's stupidity," he continued. "Let's just say that reports of my demise were *greatly* exaggerated." He grinned. "Besides, the restorative powers offered by a handful of M&Ms liberally applied at the right moment are *remarkable*!" With that he whipped out his sword and engaged in a long, dramatic, and terribly exciting duel with Bob which ended in a tremendous Quickening and a really cool but illogical special effect where Joe's bar was literally lifted off its foundations and carried into the Seacouver sky, across the ocean, and finally came to rest on top of the very spot which had once housed Darius' church, unfortunately bulldozed the night before by mini-mall developers. "Oh, man!" Joe complained. "Couldn't you at least have put the place in a better neighborhood?" Fitz, brushing the sweat from his forehead and still recovering from the Quickening, shrugged apologetically. "Well, Joe," Methos pointed out. "We *are* on holy ground now. At least you won't have to worry about any more fights in here." Joe stuck out his tongue in a childish but entirely understandable gesture. "That was cool!" Richie cried, clapping his hands. "Do it again!" Joe shook his head. "No way. Don't even think about it. We're *way* over budget as it is. I was hoping that we'd have enough this year to at least hire me a girl friend who would have *dialogue*!" "Hey!" Richie exclaimed. "What about me? When's the last time I had a girl?" "Oh yeah?" Joe retorted. "At least you don't have MacLeod sulking at you every other episode--" "Gentlemen, gentlemen," FitzCairn interjected, calling for peace. "It's a beautiful day in Paris, I've returned from the dead, Amanda is looking as lovely as ever...I suggest that we grab a taxi and go find some fun." Methos grabbed Amanda's hat, placed it firmly on the flashbacking Immortal's head, and flung her over his shoulder. "You're right, FitzCairn. Let's have some fun. I know a great student hangout not far from Watcher headquarters. *If* Watcher HQ is in the same place this week, of course...." His voice drifted away as they all filed out of the bar and into the city, in search of fun, food, and fanfiction scenarios. *end* Oh wait...there's more! "Uh, guys?" Duncan MacLeod called shakily, burrowing his way out the rubble from the back rooms of the bar. "Guys? What happened?" He brushed a piece of toilet paper off his head, where it had been flung in the turmoil of the Quickening. "Where are you? Guys? Guys?" *end* I mean it!