Hercules and Xena Banner Exchange
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Damn these people blow me out of the tub. I want to marry R.T. Oh relax. If Lucy can play dyke on the tuber, I can play het on the net. Fair is fair, after all.
Having just watched Xena's Amazing Adventures As a Two Legged Bambi
I am now losing fluids at an alarming rate. No forget fluids. I'm losing
body parts. Thank the Goddesses I'm not losing hair. Although, when you
think about it with an open mind, hair really is a body part. It's kind
of like the accessory body part. And judging by the preview blips for next
week's episode, significant hair loss is in my imminent future. I am calmly
losing my genetic accessories because of a TV show. Like a true princess
warrior I'm taking this the only way a maiden of my ilk can: lying down
with my life sized Xena standee placed strategically on top of me. She's
kind of one dimensional compared to the real thing, but a gal with my accessory
troubles can't be picky.
'TIS THE SEASON
I think I finally understand what makes football fans loquaciously blather
on about season openers. What I had previously regarded as a brain stemless,
season opening obsessed cult, with worshipping big boys in tight pants
as its focus, I now compassionately and passionately understand. I not
only understand the fanatic mentality, I live it. I understand the craving.
I understand the Gray Sockian fire pit void created by the off season.
I am living the dizzy delirium created by the coming of the season opener.
I have lost my critical other, above it outsider, in control, superior
to football fans complex, because of a TV show. I can't believe I'm taking
this so calmly.
"L" IS FOR...
Uh-oh. The "they're just friends crowd" is really going to have trouble
sustaining their myth after this. As Callisto is fond of saying, "how ya
gonna get outa this one?" I have a best friend. We've known each other
since I was two and she was one and ten months. That's over three decades
of best friendship. I've known her longer than I've known my siblings,
and almost as long as I've known my parents. We've been through plenty
together. And I mean plenty, including being out in high school in the
early '80's, and other life threatening adventures. And we've been through
it all as best friends. I'd do just about anything for her, 'cept I think
I'd draw the line at murdering a horsy, and using its fluids to prepare
a home on the range blood cocktail, all while wearing baby buck horns and
a reindeer skin suit...
DEERS (AND WEBMISTRESSES) JUST WANNA HAVE FUN
Speaking of deer suits I think Xena makes a fine young buck. I want to scratch her between her cute little horns and pat her furry tush. Sigh. Never mind the love child that she and I spawned after OAAA, I am now carrying Xena's love fawn. Solan needs a four legged half sister, what with Hades too busy to give the proper attention to his younger charges and all. Plus deer girl will be the perfect candidate for the role of Xenon's best friend, especially as they reach high school age. It's really tough being the only one of your kind in high school, but with a best friend who's like you, and who likes you, well that makes all the difference.
And don't worry Xena, I will never, ever, ever refer to you and me and little Fawnee as a family.
Well one of the best things about seeing this ep, besides Hades' seven kinds of fruit in Hawaiian Punch cartoon man head gear, was watching with the beloved webmistress. Within the first five minutes she was joyfully stomping her feet with such authoritative enthusiasm while chanting "Amazons, Amazons, Amazons, there's Amazons in this one!" that the vibrations caused by her spontaneous chair bound stomping jig shot through the floor and into the tubus causing on screen stress lines that both of our mutually taping twin VCR's picked up. Now every time I watch this ep I get to smile at the trail marker left by the deftly Amazonic Deb. Grin. I love you gal.
Of course her display of unnatural over fondness precluded me from revealing
to her my little secret about the love fawn that's growing inside me, like
how Hope grew inside gABrielle. I mean I don't want the poor webmistress
stomping herself through the floor in a jealous rage, and landing in the
apartment below on smoker girl, Gray Sock's current girlfriend (by consent
for a change). Smoker girl, after all, is truly a modern day Altian, and
who knows what tragic fate would befall the beloved webmistress were she
to tumble into the Gray Sockian smoke pit below the comfortable Xena shrine
she calls home.
ALTI (to smoker girl): Hey nice apartment. Hand me the smokeless, would ya babe?
SMOKER GIRL: Smokeless?! Why smokeless? Blowin' noxious fumes on the webmistress and her stupid itinerant friend Purl, while they're trying to do Xena stuff, is like, the best means I have for tormenting them. Gawds, smokeless. Alti, you're just full o' surprises these days.
ALIT: Uh, I think the webmistresses' friend is called Pursh. And if you think goin' smokeless is a surprise wait'll you get a load of the surprise I have in store for Xena.
SMOKER GIRL: Do tell.
ALTI: Berserkwad's telephoto retro pain eyeballs.
SMOKER GIRL: Hmmmm, maybe I can use those on the webmissy and Purl...Anyway I can't believe you've given up cigarettes for snuff, Alti.
ALTI: Why's that, smoker girl?
SMOKER GIRL: Oh I don't know. Smoking is just so...you. Besides how else are you going to keep your throat in the state of raw irritation necessary to effect that unnerving croak like dialect that is so uniquely yours?
ALTI: Yeah, well, ya know ya gotta give up something to get something, and I'm giving up cigs and my sandpaper voice to hopefully stave off breast and uterine and lung cancer.
SMOKER GIRL: Whaddya mean?! Alti are you insinuating that the captains of industry have fucked with, oh excuse me I mean, "mutated" tobacco plants thereby directly causing a host of health related maladies in Gray Sockians like you and me?
ALTI: Yep. At this point in my timeline tobacco plants are still innocent greenies, and like all things from the good Earth, a delight to behold when indulged with intelligent moderation. But in your time, look out sista.
SMOKER GIRL (contemplatively): Really? Wow. Bummer.
ALTI: Smoker girl?
SMOKER GIRL: Yeah?
ALTI: What's a captain of industry?
SMOKER GIRL: Uhh, kinda like you but only more crafty and even
more mean spirited, if that's possible, and I guess it is...
CONSIDER THE ALTERNATIVE
Ahhhhh Alti. She's evil. She's powerful. She needs help applying her mascara. She ain't gonna to be asked to join the choir any time soon.
Alti, Alti, Alter. Loa Ma's dark counter-part. The alter ego. I smell a ying-yang set up. Gawds Xena Staff is brilliant. When I'm through having Xena's children I want to sit down and talk to these boys and girls. These folks are fantastic storytellers and muses of the most entertaining sort. And even though it seems a few of them wouldn't be able to recognize a rape if it floated through their living rooms on fire tendrils, I generally love their creations.
Scott plus Stewart plus Tapert equals good episode. These three hombres in various combinations, plus Oley Sassone, have consistently provided the best Xena eps. Think Destiny, The Price, The Debts, The Bitter Suite, Sacrifice II and Adventures in the Sin Trade I. These classics are all well written, beautifully directed, intelligently edited and have the effect of moving the big picture Xena shoreline.
Sigh. Can someone please explain to me one more time why this show "needs" what's his name? Oh right. Comic "relief." I forgot. Silly me. If comic relief is such a high priority they should hire Ellen to dance around in her chicken suit on top of Minya's barn. I hear she needs the work. Plus she's cute. The truth is I do not need "relief" from the soul tweaking, story moving dramas provided by the Rob, TJ, RJ crew.
Like how do they do it? How did they install Alti as the new reigning
bad ass in less than 15 minutes? How did they make me forget three seasons
of Callisto that fast? And what about papa flame belcher? Alti makes ol'
Gray Scrotum look like the pollution smoke signal that he is, and Hope
and her crabby eyebrows don't even get into the game when Alti is the standard
bearer. I mean this gal is the real deal. This is power brokerage of the
Lao Ma sort. This is serious. I'm scared. Yeow. Don't leave your pets,
least of all horses, children or fawn daughters unattended until brave
Xena can handle this mascara marred, smoker's voice, horned matron next
week. I'm nervous for Xena. Oooooo I hope she wins.
SAY THE MAJIK WORD
So sorry Solari and move over Ephiny. I say let's just elect this Cyane gal homecoming king and call it a done deal. Not only is she right fetching in a statuesque sort of way, standing atop the largest granite boulder in the land, she also wears that fine floppy bunny ear, mud flap head band with the bold verve one would expect from a displaced Amazon legend. She makes Queen Melosa look like, well never mind, and may our beloved Melosa rest in peace.
Cyane is a great California dreamin' contrast to Salty....errrr.....Alti who, as previously noted, is an obvious lifetime tobacco achiever, with minimal skills in the eye make-up application technique category.
Yo, Cyane babe, bettcha, bettcha, bettcha, sweetheart, love's got more push than courage when it comes to unjamming that eternity gate. And I can prove it. Scoot your cute little blonde butt over to the music section in your local library, honey, and brush up on your John Lennon. All ya need is love, love. Love is all ya need.
And while you're at the 'brary have a seat and crank out an indignant letter to the Emmy mopes and ask why our team didn't get prizes for music, costumes, directing, set design, biggest butch in a skirt, cutest horse, Lucy, Lucy, Lucy and any other category that comes to mind.
Like Joe LoDuca for one. Happily our pal Joe was undaunted by the Simpson's swipe and cranked a brilliant score for Sin Trade I. As the beloved webmistress points out, just try watching this one without the music and see how fast those blood fueled spirit travel scenes fall into the hokey zone.
Anyway, thanks for more great music Joe. The replay of "Soulmates" when the deer babe talks to the volcano bard is perfect.
And since we're in the music section of this review, let's just have
Xena go vocal for a moment, and share with you, the reading audience, the
Xenitian rendition of Nat King Cole's, and later Natalie Cole's, L-O-V-E.
Xena stands at the base of volcano mountain a la big with her horns perked as gAbrielle's voice engulfs her.
gABrielle (from the volcanic ethers): Xeeeeeennnnnnaaaaaa! Xeeeeeennnnnnaaaa!
XENA (feeling moved): gABS, I'm feeling moved here, so I'm gonna sing ya a little song.
XENA (taking her cue from the string and brass sections):
ETHERS CHORUS THAT ISN'T AVAILABLE ON ANY OTHER VERSION BESIDES THIS ONE:
BACK TO XENA:
AN EPISODE NAMED DESIRE
Isn't it sweet that Xena carries gAB'S scrolls as she and the Amazon Junior Miss Dirty Face Club goes to battle against the Grunt-zerker? I love Xena's "This one's for you gABrielle" line.
And that 'zerker! Wow! Did anyone else find the zerky-jerky reminiscent of Frank Franzetta's 1973 oil "The Death Dealer"? They couldn't have picked a better painting to model the zerk's costume, and the 'zerk's horse's costume, after. Yet again the frock folks did a gorgeous job in the metal and leather outfit department.
And speaking of grunt fest, bad Xena and pretty hair head bun Borias
once again tip the big nasty scales when they go at it with immodest abandon
under the mother of all bear skins.
XENA'S MINIMAL VALUE FAMILY
It's early Sunday morning and Xena and Bun-Bun Borias have just finished their morning bear skin activities.
XENA (as she runs her warrior hands through Bun-rias' hair): Damn Bun-Bun, how does your hair, and particularly your head bun, stay so perfectly pretty in the morning, even after our a.m. conjugal festivities?
BUN-RIAS (moving away from Xena): Look ZZZZzzzzzeeeeeennnaaa, I don't need you messing up my hair bun just like you mess up all of my plans.
XENA (rolling over): Gawd Bun-head. Plans, plans, plans. You're so damn plan happy.
There's a rustling at the yurt door and Alti pops her head in.
ALTI: Anybody seen my mascara!?
XENA: Yeah, it's all over your face.
BUN-RIAS: And get out of here with your evil make-up questions, you hag. You're ruining all my plans.
XENA (to Alti): He's the king of planning.
ALTI: (as she crawls under the covers with the two indelicate lovers and sniffs Xena's belly): Yeah, except for family planning.
XENA (suddenly feeling the need for a little solitude and quiet reflection): Get away from me, both of you. Gawds, Alti, you're getting mascara all over my reindeer skin nightie and Bun Bun get you freakin' braids out of my face. Jesus. Can't a gal have some space around here?
BUN-RIAS: Xena you never told me you were carrying our bearskin love child. And who in Zeus is jesus?
XENA: Never mind on jesus. And pshaw on the baby thing. I would have gotten around to telling you. But since you're so interested in the deets Bun-rias, this little mass of tissue is a back of horsy love child, not a bear skin love child.
BUN-RIAS: Cool. A child conceived in Chin, the land of Lao Ma. I think that's a good sign.
ALTI: You will have a fine healthy boy, with a New Zealand accent, and an unparalleled puberty-driven growth streak between the second and third seasons.
XENA: What shall we call him?
PURSH: How about Cyane!!
XENA (to Bun-rias, indicating Pursh): Who's that twit?
BUN-RIAS: Shud up Xena. She's my hair consultant. She's been living in the basement since we left Chin.
XENA: Oh so that's why you're always running downstairs first thing every morning. Silly me, I thought you were going down to wash and prepare yourself before giving yourself over to me in our morning ritual of joyful abject carnal indulgence.
BUN-RIAS: I was. That's exactly what I was doing. A wash and rinse and head bun preparation session.
XENA: Ahhhh, daily maintenance on the sneak. So that's how you keep your head bun so perfect!
PURSH: Hey, that's purshfect to you Missy!
ALTI (stepping toward Pursh with a menacing gleam on her sideways tilted face): Goody. I'm needing a body to get over to the land of the dead to visit my ex-girlfriend, and you'll do just fine.
BUN-RIAS: No you don't. This poor misguided girl is the thin line that stands between me and major hair bun faux pax.
PURSH (hiding behind Bun-rias as she backs toward the soft skinned yurt door): Yeah Alti. Plllllpppp on you. Leave me alone, you big mean head, and while you're at it, why don't you and smoker girl and Gray Sock attempt to revive your scarred lung tissue by trying to run around the block a few times without passing out.
Having said her piece Pursh, ever true to form, dons Ellen's chicken suit and begins running away from the mean and now agitated Alti at a break neck pace while musing out loud, "Damn, I hope I live until next week."
c. 1998 Pursh
more by Pursh
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MORE ADVENTURES IN THE DEER SKIN TRADE
(or The Trouble with Tribbles, Part II)
There it is, all over the floor. My once attached hair.
There it is, all over the sweat lodge. Hairy Otere's once attached head-Tribble.
Ooooooooo I just love the all girl, girlie-girl eps, especially when they subliminally and cleverly pay homage to The Trouble with Tribbles,both versions of which are two of my most favoriteStar Trek episodes ever! Wheeee!
I knew that once Hairy Otere got rid of her head-Tribble and accompanying face grime that her outer gorgeousness would be revealed. But how come her face gets messy again when she's dressed in dead Tribble skins? Poo! That seemingly semi-permanent face smudge must be offal drippings from that lifeless Tribble on her head. Oh the thought of a dead Tribble is just too sad to comprehend! Bad Hairy Otere!
In spite of her proclivity toward a toddler-like dirty face, this dead fuzzy thing on head, Tribble-bedecked, fur-ball young Amazon gal thing is in the solid babe fest zone. Yum. This crew just gets more delightful every week.
And Sheeri Rappaport was well cast as Hairy Otere. The guarded stiffness she brought to the role was believable as a manifestation of Hairy Otere's lifetime of mistrusting the world around her, thanks once again to the bad pre-gABrielleian Xena.
That damn Xena! She sure has spread her fair share of life ruining maladies
among the lesbian nation. First she thwacks Callisto into the land of never
heal, next she turns Hairy Otere into flat affect, no emotion, drippy fur
head stiff girl, and then she drives the Amazons to near extinction by
killing Cyane and all of the other Amazon CEOs. Sheesh, with a friend like
Xena who needs patriarchy.
LOOK MA! A WHOLE BUNCH OF 'EM!
I love that the XWP lezzie factor is now branching out into other characters. Witness Hairy Otere and her always close at hand Madame Mutated Moose Horn Shaman Hair Mess...oops I mean Shamaness...girlfriend and their A Day in the Life reminiscent nose bop scene. I've long been humored by the fact that Xena and gABrielle are seemingly the only lesbians in the entire pre-mycenaean world. Yes, the Amazons are gorgeous and we can fill in whatever blanks we want with them, but the truth is that no one has ever really seen Ephiny pat Solari on the butt, or Melosa and Eponin exchange love bunny glances. The explicit Hairy Otere and Shamanhairmess expansion of the pre-mycenaean lesbian community via the use of an obviously intended echo of one of the series' most significant Xena and gABrielle moments of lovey-dovey-do sweetness, was welcomed. I mean c'mon, Xena and gABrielle can't be the only ones. You know and I know it doesn't work like that. Why, we're everywhere after all. Of course the fellas who do most of the writing on this show don't know that. Basically we're a nifty market niche that helps to keep their ratings high. But the benefit to us is that we FINALLY get to see slight fragments that somewhat, sorta, kinda reflect little pieces of our two girls in love lives.
Wouldn't it be cool if XWP got really bold in this regard and occasionally tossed in overt dykes for Xena and gABrielle to interact with? What if their lives reflected, even a just little, true lesbian community? What if they had a circle of dyke friends with whom they had intimate social interactions?
Well a gal can dream.
And while we're dreaming let's imagine for a sec how culture altering
it would be if all of the abused, and or abandoned, and or unwanted, and
or orphaned, and or freedom seeking girls and women in the world really
could find a safe haven among the Amazons. Hairy Otere is lucky that Bun-rias
had that option. Just think how different our societal institutions would
be if Amazon Nations throughout the world would have thrived. Amazons,
after all, live for each other. Gawds, talk about a paradigm shift.
DON'T STARE 'TIL YA SEE THE WHITES O' THEIR EYES
Wow, I thought Hope could toss a crusty. But her crabby eyebrow dance
and telekinetic stare look like a mild, kind-hearted flirt fest compared
to Cyane and Alti's silent all star eye-ball wrestling match. And what
about Miss C's neck muscles? Goodness! That gal can probably bench press
more with her vocal cord muscles than I can with my arms. And I ain't no
MOVE OVER JANE RUSSELL, OLGA AND MAIDENFORM
(or Move Over Here Jane Muscle, and Oogle the Well Formed Maiden)
As this episode opens we learn some important facts about the Amazons, among whom I count Xena. (I heard the same rumor that Cyane did. The big girl's a 'zon, whether she believes it or not).
Fact of import number one: Xena and Cyane shop at the same undie store. Is that leather butt thong a minimalist's dream or what? Too bad Jockey For Her doesn't sell a line of those. I need a pair for my Xena standee.
And I guess we can assume that all the 'zons are endowed as a matter of course with buns beyond belief. I mean why bother trying to allure nubile love mates with snappy clothes, well groomed hair and tasteful, well-matched accessories when you have an Amazon butt. Being naked is clearly going to inspire more date potential for this crowd than the best selected frocks and hair care products ever will.
Ahhhhh, naked Amazons. Praise the Goddesses for the sweat lodge scenes. I wonder if I could try out for the part of the non-speaking Amazon who gets to gently pulverize Cyane with green twiggies, since bad Xena creamed the gal who previously had the position.
That bad Xena is truly bad, but in spite of her many bad Xena skills,
she's not a very adept voyeur.
SINS IN THE SPY TRADE
Unbeknownst to Xena, and owing to Alti's purveying of visions, both past and future, Hairy Otere and Shamanhairmess knew all about the sweat lodge scene between Xena, Cyane and Miss Twiggy Whipper, well in advance of meeting Xena.
ATLI: (to Hairy Otere and Shamanhairmess):Psssst. Pssssst. Come here you little twits.
HAIRY OTERE (to Shamanhairmess as they walk along a rugged purlieu looking for dollops of dried rodent blood to snack on): Sweetheart did you hear that?
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Rats! It's Alti! We better hide. She'll be pissed about us snarfing up all the pre-dinner snacks in the area...
ALTI: You can't hide from me, and I have all the dried blood snacks I need.
Alti approaches our young heroines and grabs each one by their right ear pulling them into a nearby alcove.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Ouch! Look, whatever we did we didn't mean it, and I'm sure it was all my girlfriend's fault...
HAIRY OTERE (shooting Shamanhairmess a sideways glance): Gee thanks hon.
ALTI: I've pulled you aside from your noon-time snack hunting to show you a vision from Xena's past.
HAIRY OTERE: You can do that!?
SHAMANHAIRMESS: (as she elbows Hairy Otere sharply in the ribs): How nice Alti. We'd love to see any projected inner-cranial film clip that cinema Alti has to offer.
HAIRY OTERE: (catching her breath, but taking the clue): Right! But why?
ALTI: Because you're nice girls, and you deserve to indulge your prurient interests every now and then, just like the rest of us. Now be quiet and watch this clip from Auntie Alti's Ribald 3D Theater in the Round.
A fog lifts and Hairy Otere and Shamanhairmess are surprised to see Xena laying face down on a roof wearing a tacky skullcap with Cheezer-esque gold coins dangling off it.
HAIRY OTERE: Gawds! Did you see that?
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Yea, that's the dumbest headgear I've ever seen. It looks like something you'd see in a sentimentally vapid mid-century American film about Knute Rockne.
HAIRY OTERE: No, I'm not talking about Xena's modified 1920's football helmet!
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Well what then?
HAIRY OTERE: Xena was spying on someone in that sweat lodge and she just fell through the damn roof!
SHAMANHAIRMESS (turning her attention to the goings on inside the sweat lodge): Whoa! Who's the babe without a shirt?
HAIRY OTERE: That's Cyane, the Amazon Queen I've been telling you about.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: That's the woman who raised you?
HAIRY OTERE: Yup.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Yee-haw! I can't believe you got to be raised by her while I was stranded in the freakin' suburbs eating processed Cheeze Food while watching the Hades Bunch and being tormented by my alleged peer group for my Amazonian tendencies. By the Goddesses some gals have all the luck! That woman is truly divine.
HAIRY OTERE: Shamanhairmess! Good Goddess, calm yourself. Cyane is my adoptive mother after all.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Well she ain't mine. Oogle, oogle.
HAIRY OTERE: Shamanhairmess! Boundaries! Please!
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Girl, I just got one thing to say and that is that you owe Bun-rias big time for his part in getting you to her.
HAIRY OTERE (pointing, as she ignores the commentary of her overly Cyane fond girlfriend): Whoa! Look at that ? Did you see that?
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Yea! But what was it?
HAIRY OTERE: It was Xena strokin' through the forest in a printed silk Amazon bathrobe. Now that's something to get whipped up about.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Are you nuts? If Cyane took my clothes off in a sweat lodge using that nifty fast forward swifty switchy move I sure as hell wouldn't show my gratitude by jogging through the woods in a bathrobe.
PURSH: I heard that sister.
ALTI (to Pursh): Curses! You dreadful interloper. I've been looking for you all week. I still need to get to the land of the dead to settle a score or two with my ex...
PURSH (running): Whaaaaaaa! Cyane! Help!
HAIRY OTERE: What was that all about?
SHAMANHAIRMESS: I don't know but apparently the movie is over.
HAIRY OTERE (pointing): No it isn't! Look!
SHAMANHAIRMESS: What on Earth is that?
From high above Alti circles and comes in for a smooth landing after yet another unsuccessful bid to throttle Pursh who has managed to find sanctuary under Cyane's rock.
ALTI: It's another scene from Xena's past. This is a good one, where I bring the un-born Solan a nice gift. Bwaaaa ha ha ha ha.
SHAMANHAIRMESS (as she looks toward the Ribald 3D Theater in the Round): Goodness! Who's that woman with the mustache, goatee, head bun and pretty braids, and why is she laying on top of Xena?
HAIRY OTERE: That's Bun-rias, Shamanhairmess.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: That's Bun-rias? Wow. His hair is so femme, yet he's so butch. No wonder Xena shares her bearskin with him.
HAIRY OTERE (rolling her eyes, and again ignoring the daft commentary of the woman she loves): Wow! Look at that!
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Oh my Goddess!
HAIRY OTERE: It's a miniature Alti flying over Xena and Bun-rias while they sleep. And it looks like she brought some mutant with a horn face with her. And he's wearing a hooded Uncle Fester gown! Alti must be spreading her good will over the peacefully sleeping lovers. How sweet.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Dearest, if Alti were spreading good will she wouldn't have brought along Mr. Horn-head "hate is the star" flute face from The Bitter Suite.
HAIRY OTERE: Oh goodness! You're right. It is Mr. Hate is the Star, and now I see that he's definitely wearing Uncle Fester's clothes! I smell foul play. Alti has clearly murdered Uncle Fester, and now she's doing something mean to Bun-rias and Xena.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: But what?
HAIRY OTERE: Well considering Alti's altitude, flight pattern and the airborne similarity between her and our fine feathered bird friends only one thing comes to mind.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Gasp! She's going to poo on the lovers while they sleep! How rude!
ALTI: Bwaaaaa ha ha ha. Ever since my ex moved to the land of the dead tormenting lovers is my favorite hobby, girlies...
HAIRY OTERE: Whaaaaa! Shamanhairmess run!
HAIRY OTERE: To Pursh's rock, where else!
The youthful fur balls out race Alti to Pursh's niche under Cyane's butch rock of protection.
HAIRY OTERE (to Pursh): Hiya Pursh-wad! Mind if we stay awhile?
Hairy Otere senses the reticence in her new unwitting roommate and resolves to make a peace gesture. She opens a soiled and well-worn brown paper bag, and begins to fumble around inside it with one of her two never been washed hands.
HAIRY OTERE (to Pursh as she brings a dried reddish brown flake from the bag): Here, try some dried rodent blood!
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Yeah, it's really good!
PURSH: Gulp. I am calmly sharing a cubic foot of space under a butch rock with talking, prehensile, two legged rodents, who are apparently companions, and who both have profoundly dirty faces, and a similar predilection for sanguineous snacks. The fundies were right. It's official. I have entered hell.
Hairy Otere and Shamanhairmess exchange quizzical glances.
PURSH: By the Goddesses what is that odor?
SHAMANHAIRMESS: It's our outfits! See!
Shamanhairmess thrusts her fuzzy frock in Pursh's face and Pursh responds in an equally coarse manner by promptly fainting face first into the rodent blood snack sack.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Does this mean the movie is over?
HAIRY OTERE: Looks like it.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Damn! I wanted to see a re-play of the brown-eyed girls' no body contact wrestling match.
HAIRY OTERE: Yea, me too.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Oh well. Move that clod off our snack gathering sack and pass me them blood chips, would ya baby?
HAIRY OTERE: Sure sweetie...
IT'S A BIRD, IT'S A PLANE, IT'S SUPER SPERM!
Well it's good that this was an all girl gig because that kind of made up for some tedious hooey, like the flying spirit sperm that burst forth from Alti's fire, through her tent, and into the chest cavities of the snoozin' Tribble-clad girl scout brigade. The resulting cardiovascular emergency room prone flopping around body gyration visual was over used in both Sin Trades, but happily this tiresome thumpity-thump action is nullified by the eye-brow raising presence of the Xena, Hairy Otere and Shamanhairmess threesome. This is a relief because Alti's instigation of the attack of the spirit sperm was dreadfully reminiscent of the wicked witch wringing her hands around the hourglass while she cast the poppies spell over Dottie and Co.
But really, ya can't get too hung up on the wicked witch thing for long
because it's so much more fun to stay in the present moment and watch Xena
climb on top of Queen Tribble and her girlfriend, practically at the same
THE WIZARD OF PAWS
In a show of congratulations intended to express her approval over the Tribbles' expulsion of Alti's spirit sperm, Xena has just straddled Hairy Otere and Shamanhairmess at the same time, while the two untidy but well meaning young Amazons lay upon Mother Earth.
XENA: Oooo baby! Yeee-haaaw.
HAIRY OTERE: Xena! Get the hell offa my girlfriend!
XENA: Oh sorry. I didn't know you Amazons were the monogamous type.
HAIRY OTERE: We aren't. I want you away from her so I can hog you to myself before she wakes up and wants in on the action.
XENA: Well I really only crawled up here to congratulate you both on exorcising the spirit sperm from your heart chakras.
HAIRY OTERE: Of course you did dear. Whatever you say. Now move over here a little to my left...
XENA: Sorry babe. I gotta lotta work to do. We gotta bust Amazon butt on building that charm ring thingy. Alti's around.
HAIRY OTERE: How do you know?
XENA: I can smell her a mile off. That horse fur mess she wears in the name of Shamanessing hasn't been washed since the first Peloponnesian War.
HAIRY OTERE: Good Goddess, and I thought I had trouble with Yakut and her damn stinky-ass Shamanhairmess Fred Flintstone Moose Lodge hat.
XENA: Girl, you don't know how good you have it.
HAIRY OTERE: Yea, I guess you're right. Uhhhh...Xena...could ya scoot over some? You're squishing my Tribble trimmed Amazon blouse and its tasteful but inappropriate Tribble-lined Peter Pan collar.
XENA (as she rises a bit and rolls over onto Shamanhairmess): Sorry.
SHAMANHAIRMESS (awakening): Xena! Get your sloppy, furry butt offa my Moose Lodge hat! Gawds.
XENA: Oops. Sorry. These deer horns keep slipping over my eyes at the most inopportune moments...
SHAMANHAIRMESS: I guess that explains why you were just laying on top of my girlfriend...
XENA (invoking one of her hidden oratorical skills that employs the tactic of nattering in the name of petty flattery to quickly change the subject): Say, you two are really cute. I just know gABS will love you, and I'm such a chump in the making friends department, maybe when I find her, we can all hang out and go bowling or something in a future episode review.
HAIRY OTERE: Sure Xena.
The other Tribbles begin to awake and murmur at the ruckus caused by the threesome's chatting.
XENA: Uh, ahh, everyone, wake up and meet your new Shamanhairmess, and the couple that will round out positions three and four on gABS and my fall season episode review bowling team.
The Tribble Tribe expels a gentle collective breath of approval.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Thank you, thank you. Thank you dear sisters. As your new Shamanhairmess my first order of business will be to advocate for equal treatment for all lesbians, and all of our brother friends in land of Vidalis. To that end, starting right now there will be many more lezzies on TV everyday!
The Tribbles release a gleeful sigh. A timid looking Tribble in the front of the crowd raises her hand as if to seek permission to speak.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Yes sister, you in front, do you have a question for me, your new Shamanhairmess, and fourth member of Xena and gABrielle's fall season episode review bowling team?
TRIBBLE TRIBE MEMBER NUMBER ONE: No doll, just sniffing my arm pit. I saw Xena do it the other day, and since she's da bomb I thought I'd try to get in with the in crowd by imitating her. Uhh, but while we're on the topic, is there any hope that you'll ever get that perma grime off your face?
SHAMANHAIRMESS: No, dear sister, there is no hope. My girlfriend, Hairy Otere, the first lezzie of the United Tribble Tribe of Siberia, likes my face this way, and I gotta keep the little fur head happy because she's destined to take the leader of the Amazons mantle from Xena, and I'm way into being a power couple.
XENA: Ahem, yes, and as the interim leader I suggest that we get crackin' on that charm ring. The stench of Alti's outfit is quickly becoming overbearing.
HAIRY OTERE (overly enthusiastic): Right-o Xena!
SHAMANHAIRMESS: (to Hairy Otere): Gawds Hairy, cool the smitten with Xena routine, would ya? You're acting like Hower.
HAIRY OTERE: Hey, you're the one who's smitten.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Ha! With who?
HAIRY OTERE: Cyane.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Oh I am not.
HAIRY OTERE: Are to.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Am not.
HAIRY OTERE: Are to.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Am not, am not.
HAIRY OTERE: Are to, are to.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Well at least I'm not acting like a sniveling fool. Everyone around here is so taken with Xena, and I'm the Shamanhairmess, not her. And I swear Hairy Otere, if you start sniffing your arm pits in public...
HAIRY OTERE: What difference does it make, cute as I am, how could any woman ever get beyond my dirty face long enough to notice anything else about me.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Sigh. Just help me with this charm bracelet...errrr....I mean charm ring, before Xena becomes overwrought with the stench of Alti and our poor horse has to drag her around for half an episode while she makes peace with the mystery and magic of Charlotte's Web al la Alti.
HAIRY OTERE: Oh aww right, aww right. I'm helpin'.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Hey baby why are you pourin' all that perfectly good blood on those dead animal skulls?
HAIRY OTERE: Oh good point. A little nip o' warm animal blood is Xena's favorite beddy-bye snack. I'll save her a skull full.
SHAMANHAIRMESS: Great. You do that and I'll finish my funky chicken arm flapping charm ring dance so we can get on with this episode review.
HAIRY OTERE: Yes good idea. A little cognitive intervention would be most welcome at this point.
The final five minutes of Adventures in the Sin Trade II provide a riveting multi-perspective look at death and the new possibilities that flow from it as part of the life, death, re-birth cycle.
During Alti and Xena's spirit fight Alti goes the way of Cyane on the spike tree, an apparent relative to gABrielle's grandson. The skewer of Miss Smoker's Voice renders passage into eternity for the Amazons as finally possible.
In the future flash gABrielle delivers her most convincing "I love you" yet and Xena, seemingly impervious to what appears to be their impending demise proclaims in the present tense that gABrielle is the best "thing" (whew baby) in her life, as if their lives are bound to roll on indefinitely.
The "dead" Tribbles are "awakened" by Xena while christian choral music stirs images of the christian afterlife in heaven. When Xena awakens Hairy Otere the Tribble Queen appears angelic as she looks skyward and massages the life back into her numbed, Xena pinched neck.
Cyane triumphantly mounts her rock and proclaims that through Xena's efforts the cross-over is at last possible.
The Tribbles dance with joy around their ritual fire while Xena gives Otere her destined post as leader of the Amazons, and states that she must go "home" because gABrielle is "alive."
The movement between these passages evokes an emotional response borne of intelligent crafting. This is not a smarmy swipe at hollow sentimentality. The layering is marvelous and I do not see how these five minutes could be bettered.
c. 1998 Pursh
more by Pursh
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