A Night At The Beach

Notes: Well here it is. What can I say? My first and probably only ever crack!fic at the behest of the crack master herself, loby. She gave me names and the general idea of ghost stories and a campfire, but I’m pretty sure this was not what she envisioned. So please don’t blame her. Hee! Anyway… this is part of the fun over at the Summer Camp located here:

www.cyberlobster.com/Camp/MAINCAMP.html

Many thanks to my beta Eva and to my reviewers kaz, Susan, and loby. As always I am grateful and as always, all mistakes remain mine.

Warnings: None. Go figure.

Rating: PG-13

Setting: Post PKW

Spoilers: I couldn’t find a single one.

Disclaimers: Definitely not mine. They belong to bigger, better, more brilliant people than me. No copyright infringement intended. There is definitely no money being made.

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“Hey, guys.” John dropped another armload of wood next to the campfire. “A little help?”

“No, tanks.” Don Vorleone plunked the just shuffled deck down on the blanket in front of BlueCatShip. “We’re good.”

“Yeah.” He tapped the knuckles of his loosely curled fist on top of it. “We’re good.”

“No.” Carefully feeding branches into the fire, John glared at the group on the blanket. “I mean I could use a little help.”

Joe, aka Florida Redleg, rearranged his chips. “We’re busy.”

“You’re playing cards.”

Fanning her cards out, Egraine began reordering her hand. “Strip poker, baby.”

“Hey.” John threw up his hands, palms out. “There’ll be no stripping here. My wife is here. And my kid.”

“Ah, no worries, mate.” Scorpsik wagged her eyebrows at him. “I’m sure it’s nothing Aeryn’s never seen before.”

“And D?” Kaz waved a hand in the general direction of over there as she fished in the ice chest for another beer. “He’s over there poking Nhoj.”

John’s head snapped to the right. “Yo, D. Stop poking the nice man.”

Snagging the beer from Kaz, Aeryn slid up to John’s side. “For frell’s sake John, give it a rest.”

“But babe, it’s already dark and time’s wasting.”

“Fine. We’re all here.” Dropping gracefully on the blanket, she folded herself comfortably, knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. “Go ahead.”

John dropped down next to her. “It was a dark and stormy night...”

Nanse pulled her marshmallow out of the fire. “Why is it always a dark and stormy night?”

“Who’s telling the story here?”

“She’s right you know.” PKLibrarian speared a marshmallow and poked it carefully into the flame. “All your stories start out like that.”

John dragged a hand down his face. “That’s because spooky campfire stories are supposed to start like that.” Chewing on his thumb, he ran his eyes around the group. “I suppose you think you can do better?”

Asharah snorted. “Well, duh.”

“Fine. Go ahead. You tell the story.”

Rygel hovered out of the shadows. “Anybody seen my S’Mores?”

Aeryn lifted a hip and slid a cautious hand underneath it. “I think I found it.”

“That’s all right, you can have it.” Rygel waved a magnanimous hand before rummaging in the marshmallow bag. “I don’t want it anymore.”

John’s arms shot out and banded around her as he breathed low and harsh in her ear. “Not now, babe. Too many witnesses.”

She stilled in his grasp and settled for leveling double-barreled glare at the Hynerian who was already happily toasting another marshmallow in the fire.

“I’ll start.” LT Garrix knocked back the last of her beer and tossed the can onto the pile at the edge of the blanket. “Many years ago, two warriors from rival villages got into a terrible fight. Knives pulled, they battled back and forth with the ferocity of meat hounds, each tearing at the other with their knives…”

“Knives?” Reaching over, Asharah thwapped Rygel in the head with her purple squishy as he tried to snurch her beer. “Please.”

Rygel made a sound somewhere between a croak and a quack as he landed head first in the sand. “What?”

“They always say knife in these things when it’s really not.” BlueCatShip held up a thumb and forefinger spaced closely together. “And then it’s some little bitty Swiss Army knife.” He snagged a marshmallow from the bag. “A Qualta Blade. Now that’s a knife.”

“Who are you?” Scorpsik asked. “Crocodile Dundee?”

“Now that’s what I’m talking ’bout.” BCS held his hands up, about shoulder width apart. “He had a knife.”

“D’Argo.” Aeryn’s sharp voice split the air as she flowed to her feet in one fluid motion. “Quit poking Nhoj. He’s…sleeping.”

Standing and stretching, tcpike reached over, plucked the stick out of D’Argo’s small hands, and poked at the body with it. “I think he’s dead.”

Aeryn pulled the stick out of her hands and pointed to the mountain of beer cans just off to the side of the body. “He. Is. Not. Dead.”

“I’m just sayin’.” pike’s words floated back as she turned and wandered back toward the cooler.

Aeryn poked at the body again. Picking D’Argo up, she settled him on her hip, looked at John, and shrugged her free shoulder.

John blew out his breath through clenched teeth. “Could we get back to the story, please?”

“Ooh. Ooh.” cajnjirl’s hand shot up. “I’ve got one.”

Garrix glared. “But I wasn’t finished.”

cajnjirl patted her on the back. “That’s ok.”

John threw up his hands in disgust as Aeryn settled back down next to him.

Putting her finger to her lips, cajnjirl shushed the group and started her story. “She lived deep in the forest in a tiny cottage and sold herbal remedies for a living.”

“Sounds like Norati,” JustPlainLisa mumbled around the marshmallow in her mouth.

Aeryn’s head snapped around to target John in her line-of-sight. John bumped his forehead repeatedly into her shoulder.

“Did she have a third eye?” Shester asked.

cajnjirl’s voice rose with her eyebrows. “How do I know?”

Upending her bottle, HezmanaGirl drained the last of her beer. “You’re telling the story.”

“It’s not Noranti.” cajnjirl threw up her hands, palms out. “Anyway, folks in the nearby town called her Bloody Mary and said she was a witch.”

“See?” Shester nodded. “Coulda been Noranti.”

“Amateurs,” BlueBanikBaby proclaimed, shaking a finger around the circle on the blanket. “You’re all amateurs. Sit back and let a professional handle this.”

“But I wasn’t finished.”

“Yes you were.” BBB flipped the flashlight up and held it just under her chin, giving her face an eerie glow. “The reports had been on the news all day, though she hadn’t been paying attention to them. Something about a crazy man who’d escaped from an upstate asylum. They were calling him Hook Man since he’d lost his right arm and had it replaced with a hook.”

Ooh, ooh,” bblurkinscaper blurted, “I know this one. I’ve seen the movie.”

Grippy threw the bag of marshmallows at her. “We’ve all seen the movie. We’ve all seen all the movies.”

Kaz grabbed another beer. “Hey. I like those movies.”

“Could we get a little focus here people?” John leaned over and rested his head on Aeryn’s shoulders, hip lips close to her ear. “Tell me again why I thought this would be a good idea?”

“Because you always think your ideas are good ideas?” She bounced D on her knee.

“You’re a rock, babe.”

“I love you, too. Now hand me a beer.”

“Hand me one, too.” Rygel shimmied, rocking his thronesled. “I’m still shaking sand out…”

“…of your eema?” Aeryn snickered as she tossed him a beer.

“Very funny.” Rygel caught it one handed. “Why anyone would play in this sandbox...”

“Hey.” Susan thwapped him upside his head. “We play in the sandbox all the time.”

“What?” John’s head came off Aeryn’s shoulder.

“sarahjane and me.” Susan’s finger wagged back and forth. “You know. The Sandbox Challenges.” She pointed a forefinger. “You must have heard of them. We tell stories.”

“Hell, yeah.” sarahjane stabbed a marshmallow and waved it at John. “She’s shippy. I’m angst.” She jabbed it into the fire. “Except when she’s angst and I’m shippy.”

“Shippy?” Aeryn rolled her eyes. “Angst?”

“I do not do angst.” Susan glared at sarahjane. “And I do not do dark.”

“Dude, you killed blind John’s dog.”

“I was blind?” John looked at Aeryn.

Aeryn looked at John. “We have a dog?”

“I was in pain.” Susan shook her finger at sarahjane. “You kill babies.”

“Well, duh.” sarahjane knocked back her beer. “And planets and…”

A huge smile split Susan’s face. “I love the sandbox.”

“I do too.” A low-rolling evil laugh erupted from sarahjane. “What are we gonna do next?”

“Listen to the next story?” aeryncrichton’s voice floated between them, an order not a suggestion. “Has anyone checked on Nhoj?”

Alex22 popped her marshmallow in her mouth and then reached over to poke the body. “He’s still dead.”

“He. Is.” Aeryn handed her squirming son to her husband and reached for another beer. “Not. Dead”

Alex22 just shrugged. “Whatever.”

PkMalibuSkipper raised her hand. “I’ve got one.”

sarahjane reached for another beer. “Does it have a dead dog?”

Susan threw a stick at her sandbox partner in crime.

PKMalibuSkipper began her story in a voice low and slow. “A young woman lay suffering on her deathbed, her still born baby lying against her chest.

sarahjane jabbed Susan with the stick. “Dead baby.”

Susan rolled her eyes.

PKMalibuSkipper ignored them. “Her young husband crouched close, stricken with grief as his beautiful wife hummed a lullaby to her dead baby, her voice getting fainter as her own death drew near.”

“Ooh, ooh.” beyondhope bounced up and down where she sat. “Shippy and angsty.”

John and Aeryn looked at each other and scooted back a little further on the blanket.

deweytoo’s scream split the air as a shadow fell over the group.

“I don’t feel so good.” With those words to remember, Nhoj planted his face in the blanket.

D’Argo poked him with a stick.

“For frell’s sake, John.” Aeryn grabbed her child and disarmed him.

“This is the last time I am ever doing this.” John winced and raised both hands and rubbed hard against his temples. “Why can’t it ever be easy?”