In [personal profile] philips' most recent journal entry, Wanna see Spike's chips?, I made a comment that was apparently so disturbing that it moved her to write a ficlet about my poor (according to her, anyway) Spike and Angel dolls. It made me laugh until I cried and scared the cats, and there's just no way I'm going to let it languish as an unread footnote. Please enjoy the gift to the world that is her sense of the funny.
Title: A Doll Tragedy
Author: [personal profile] philips
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike & Angel (Mere implied)
Warnings: Sad, sad little dolls.
A/N: I hope you're happy. Your disturbing brutality is all I could think about at work.

Although the contents of this journal would certainly seem to indicate that I have no shame, I have to admit that I've been feeling a little bad for my Hawaiian Shirt Angel action figure ever since I posted that photo shoot a couple of months ago. He's appropriated Spike's flask and has been sulking brooding and leaving his arm in odd places for weeks now; if I don't intervene soon, I may well wake one day to find a little pile of plastic dust in a sunny windowsill.  I should probably be cleaning the bathroom or conquering Mt. Laundry today, but instead, I offer an epilogue that will, I hope, be something of a corrective to my previous harsh and sizeist treatment of Angel. May Casa del Ubu's loss be his gain!

[Note: I can't really blame drugs for the doll photography this time, so I'm just going to blame [personal profile] philips . She's a corrupter.]

My first move was to separate Angel from Spike and try to find him some more suitable friends. . . friends who might help him realize that small can be beautiful, too.



mere_ubu: (Default)


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