The girl who had until very recently been wearing a robe a l'anglaise puts the finishing touches on her disguise and strolls into the barricade dressed as a boy. They had decided that she would go into the barricade first since she was the smallest and therefore the least conspicuous. Once she was inside, she would attempt to get permission for the others to enter or, if that failed, signal them when it was safe for them to sneak in. She has just gotten inside the barricade and is thinking to herself how easy this plan is when there is suddenly a loud "BANG!" from somewhere nearby. The girl falls to the ground, clutching her chest in pain.
Outside, hidden behind a conveniently placed cart, Percy, Doug, and ALW wonder what could be taking so long. First there had been a loud "Bang!" and now they could hear someone singing, but they still don't see any sign of the girl. Growing somewhat impatient, they continue to wait.
Javert would have been wondering at the delay too, but he is too busy trying to keep Robot Terry from messing with his sideburns. Finally, the Inspector gets fed up and beans the robot with his nightstick. Much to his surprise, but not to anyone else's, Robot Terry's head flies off and bounces across the street. It rolls to an open storm drain, teeters on the edge for the briefest of moments, and then falls in. From deep in the sewers there is a splash followed by a rather watery sounding "Daam!"
"Uh, oh. How do we explain this one to Terry?" Doug pretends that he's actually talking to Terry. "I'm very sorry Terry but after we recovered your robot, we took a wrong turn and wound up in 1830s France where we met Javert, who decapitated your robot again with his nightstick and knocked the head into the Paris sewers."
Percy walks towards the storm drain. "We won't explain. We'll just have to get the head back."
"It sounded like it's a long way down" commented ALW.
"Well, I didn't say it would be easy."
Doug points to Javert, who still seems a bit astonished. "I think he should be the one to retrieve the head. It's his fault that it wound up in the sewers. And there's always the possibility of electrocut..."
At that moment, a rather crisp looking Thenardier sticks his head out of the storm drain. "Take back your worthless piece of junk. I don't want it!" He dumps the head on the ground and disappears into the sewers again.
"Well, that solves that problem," says Percy as he gingerly dries off the head and restores it to its proper place. Robot Terry grabs Percy and gives him a big hug. "La! It still works!" He addresses Robot Terry. "Could you let go now? I don't need broken ribs to go with this sprained ankle!" Robot Terry releases Percy from his metallic grip.
Doug looks towards the barricade but still doesn't see the girl. "This is taking too long. Something must have happened to the girl."
"Yes, we should go after her," says ALW.
The others nod in agreement and they stealthily creep towards the barricade. As they approach, they hear the sound of raised voices.
Back inside the barricade, Marius kneels on the frozen ground, cradling the girl that he suddenly has such feelings for even though he had never really noticed her before. "...and snow will make the... uhhh... er... um... make the icicles grow..." Darn but it was hard to come up with good lyrics on such short notice! Marius had expected to have a least several more months to work on the song, but apparently someone had moved up the timetable for killing off characters. As he desperately wonders whether or not he'll be able to finish writing "Empty Chairs At Empty Tables" in time, he continues to sing to his temporary beloved. "Um... You would build a big snowman, if I could show you how... er... uh... just wear your mittens now..." He does his best to give her a good death scene, but she refuses to cooperate. In fact, she doesn't even seem to want to stay in his somewhat loving embrace. As she attempts to wriggle out of his grasp, her hat falls off and Marius can finally get a good look at her face. "You're not Eponine!" he exclaims.
"And I'm not dying either, you big oaf! Let go of me!" In shock, Marius lets go of her, and the girl struggles to her feet, rubbing her sore shoulder.
"But... but you were... you were shot!" he manages to stammer through his confusion.
"I wasn't shot. I just got hit with a..." The girl looks around the ground as she tries to figure out what on earth *had* hit her. Finally she finds the offending projectile. "...A champagne cork?" She glances around and sees Grantaire standing several feel away, holding an open bottle of champagne which is still dripping foam. He tries to hide the bottle behind his back but in his already slightly inebriated state only succeeds in spilling champagne down the back of his boots. He then decides that the best was to get rid of the evidence is to drink it.
"Sorry," Grantaire grins sheepishly between swallows. "Since it's only a few hours until New Year's, I figured it was time to start celebrating."
All of the amis, frustrated by their drunken friend, gather around Grantiere and yell at him, completely forgetting about the strange girl.
"Grantiere, this is not the time!"
"You have to keep our wits about you. The National Guard could attack at any moment!"
"Yes, and it doesn't help that you already drank all of our V8!"
"You're a disgrace!"
Percy, Doug, ALW, Robot Terry, and Javert arrive in time to witness this scene. They also spy the girl untying Chauvelin and the pair running over to join them. Javert and Chauvelin are introduced and the group starts trudging back towards the time machine.
"Did you hear that?" asks the girl. "There's no more V8!"
Doug groans. "This is not good. How are we going to get home now?"
"Perhaps, we could find an alternative fuel for our time machine?" says ALW.
"V8 Splash is the traditional fuel for time machines. I've heard that some other things work but not as well and I can't remember what at the moment." The girl ducks inside the time machine and changes back into her robe a la anglaise since she doesn't want to be mistaken for Eponine again but keeps the coat from her disguise to ward off the cold. She gestures to the others to come in.
"Do you suppose we could find some vegetables and use those?" asks Doug.
"I don't recall seeing anyone selling vegetables." ALW turns to Robot Terry. "Do you?"
Robot Terry shakes his head.
The girl, who has been looking at Percy and Chauvelin thoughtfully, exclaims "Wait a minute!" She addresses Percy. "If you belong in the 18th century, how did you get to my time in the first place?"
"Somehow, it appears possible for me to appear in a future time if I think about it hard enough. But it doesn't always work and it seems to help if someone in that time is thinking of me. Why, that is how Baroness Orczy learned of my advent..."
"What?!" The girl grabs his arms and shakes the Englishman. "Why didn't you tell us that you don't need a machine to time travel?!"
"Miss, please calm down. I told you that it doesn't always work. In fact, it usually doesn't. And it doesn't seem possible for me to go back past my proper time."
"You're telling us that you think your way into the future?" asks ALW, a little incredulously.
"Well, he manages to do it, too," said Percy pointing to Chauvelin.
"Between the two of you, could you manage to get our group to the future?" asks Doug.
"I suppose it's worth a try."
Chauvelin starts to protest. "I have had quite enough of time travel for today. I want to go back to my time!"
"Won't you help us? Please, my little Chauvelin?" coos the girl.
Chauvelin then remembers that his favorite snuffbox is still in the drawer of the dean's desk. "Oh, okay," he grumbles.
They all join hands and concentrate on getting to the future. After a few minutes, the time machine and its occupants disappear from the snowy street. The group peers out of the time machine and finds that they are in an early 20th century parlor. A woman writing at a desk in the corner looks up.
Percy approaches her and bows. "Good afternoon, Baroness."
"Sir Percy!" Baroness Orczy springs out of her chair and gives the tall baronet a hug. "And you've brought company! How wonderful!" She warmly greets each of her newly arrived visitors until she gets to Chauvelin. "Oh," she says with a disdainful sniff, "it's you."
Chauvelin looks confused. "Have we met?"
"Your reputation precedes you."
This only deepens the Citizen's confusion. "What? How? Unless... *grrr*... Blakeney! What have you been saying about me?!?"
"Nothing," replies Percy in his most lazy drawl, "or at least nothing much..."
"This explains *so* much," mutters the girl in the robe a l'anglaise as she looks back and forth between Chauvelin, Percy, and the Baroness. "Poor ChauChau, no wonder she doesn't like you."
"Look, I don't know what he told you, but it's probably not-" Before Chauvelin can finish, he is interrupted by a tall redheaded woman launching herself through the air and latching onto Blakeney.
"Percy!"
"Marguerite?" Sure enough, it is indeed Lady Blakeney. She and Percy indulge in a long passionate kiss. Most of the others in the room awkwardly try to pretend that their attention is elsewhere, except for Chauvelin who stares with a look of pure jealousy etched across his face and Javert who is about to try to arrest them for improper behavior in a public until Doug informs him that they're married so they're allowed such displays. Finally, the happy couple breaks for air. "Sink me, Margot darling! What in heaven's name are you doing here?"
"After you left last time I was lonely, so I decided to talk to Armand-"
"I'm right here!" Chauvelin interrupts.
Marguerite just gives him a withering look. "I meant Armand as in my brother."
"Daam."
Marguerite simply ignores Chauvelin's little interjection as she continues, "Not having him around to talk to either, I did the next best thing and thought about how nice it would be if there was someone I could talk with about him. The next think I knew, I was here! The Baroness and I were having a lovely little chat about that nice little conversation Armand and I had outside the Fisherman's Rest before he left for France that one night. I paused to go powder my nose, and when I returned, you were here! Oh Percy, you don't happen to know where my darling brother is, do you?"
"I'm sorry, beloved, but your brother is dead." Percy looks mournful, but mentally he is rejoicing that he'll never see the little twit again.
"WHAT?!?" Marguerite turns pale and begins wringing her hands.
At the same time Baroness Orczy exclaims, "Hooray! Now I don't have to write about the idiot anymore!" Everyone stares at the author, causing her to blush. "I mean, what a tragedy! Now he'll only be in two of my novels. How did it happen? I want to write a nice, detailed death scene!"
"Yes, Percy, please tell us how it happened," Marguerite implores.
Percy takes a deep breath to hide the fact that he's having a hard time suppressing a smile and then says, "Evil Robot Terry ate him."
All eyes turn to focus on Terrence Mann's robotic double. Robot Terry is incapable of blushing, but he does look very indignant. "I did nothing of the sort! I think I was going to throw him in the Seine or something like that, but he escaped. I only had him in the first place because HE," at that Robot Terry points an accusing finger at Percy, "threw him at me and said to hurt him!"
Marguerite glowers at her husband. "Percy..."
"You'd better have a good explanation for this."
"Well... I... Uh... I..." stammered Percy as Marguerite glared at him.
Most of the others fidget, examining the books on Baroness Orczy's shelves or looking out the window. The girl in the robe a la anglaise contemplates the time machine and wonders if the Baroness has any suitable fuel in her kitchen. Chauvelin smirks, happy that Marguerite is mad at that idiotic fop, and starts plotting how to take advantage of the situation and seduce her.
Just then, all the thoughts of Armand, bring the young man through time to the Baroness Orczy's parlor. Armand, who had been fleeing from the school prior to being transported, crashes into something before he can take in his new surroundings and stop running. He realizes that it is Robot Terry and yelps.
Marguerite is a bit startled at the sudden appearance and takes a second to find her voice. "Armand!" she calls, happy to see that her brother is not dead and appears to be unharmed.
Hearing his name, Armand turns, sees Marguerite, and runs to hide behind his sister. "Marguerite, don't let him hurt me! He tried to kill me!"
Marguerite puts her arms around her brother protectively and tries to comfort him. "Armand, please calm down and tell me what happened."
Armand, who is still a bit scared, points to Robot Terry. "Percy shoved me at that man over there and told him to hurt me. He started dragging me away and then, all of a sudden, his head fell off. Oh, Marguerite, it was terrible! That was when I ran away from him."
His sister looks at him somewhat dubiously. "Armand, are you sure that you haven't been having nightmares again? A person's head does not just fall off. That man's head looks quite connected to me." To prove her point, she walks over to Robot Terry, puts her hands on his head and give a pull.
"Hey!" protests Robot Terry as his head comes off.
Marguerite is dumbfounded and drops the head. She stares with her mouth agape as Robot Terry catches it and puts it back in its proper place. Trying to gather some authority, she says, "Percy, I think you owe me an explanation."
"La! I'm sure that your brother just imagined it. I wouldn't do such a thing!"
"And I'm sure I just imagined pulling that man's head off," she replies with a soupcon of sarcasm. She is obviously rather angry with her husband. "Tell me the truth."
"That man over there," begins Percy, pointing to Robot Terry, "is actually a robot although I didn't know it at the time. He was threatening to guillotine a young lady and throw her into the Seine. Of course, I couldn't let that happen!"
"Percy, that is no reason to put my brother in such danger."
Percy looks down, not quite able to meet Marguerite's eyes. "I've always been frustrated with your brother ever since he had been captured and then used to blackmail you. He happened to be there and I don't know what came over me." Still sensing his wife's anger, he throws himself to his knees at her feet and takes her hand. "Marguerite, please forgive me. I've acted atrociously." He covers her hand with kisses and then looks up to see her reaction.
"I'm not quite sure if I can do that after how you've treated my brother." Marguerite looks at Percy with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. "I believe that I know of the perfect punishment for you. It's just the thing to teach you a lesson. Perhaps, Chauvelin might actually be of assistance for once..."
Chauvelin approaches his enemy "Of course, Marguerite. I would be most delighted to introduce Sir Percy to Madame Guillotine."
"That's not what I meant," Marguerite replies coldly.
"Daam," mutters Chauvelin, disappointed that his chances of guillotining the Pimpernel and seducing Marguerite seem to have dropped drastically.
Marguerite addresses her husband. "You'll have to wear black for a week."
Percy's eyes start to fill with dread.
"And no frou frou either!"
"No froufrou at all?!?"
Marguerite shakes her head firmly.
"Can I dangle down a spangle if I promise to keep it out of sight?" he asks hopefully.
"No, Percy. No froufrou."
Percy's lower lip trembles slightly. "Not even..." Percy can't bring himself to finish the question. He shoots a quick sidelong glance at Chauvelin, who is smirking so widely it looks like his face might break. The baronet grimaces then tries to speak again. "Not... not even..." He almost chokes on the words but finally forces them out. "Not even black froufrou?" he pleads.
The tall Englishman tries to soften his wife's heart by using his most pathetic 'sad puppy' face, but, having grown up with her brother who always looks like a puppy, Marguerite is used to that sort of thing and remains resolute, merely saying, "No froufrou at all."
Percy, grabbing his head and tearing his hair, runs from the room in agony, screaming loudly, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!" Baroness Orczy's husband walks in with two teacups, rolling his eyes at the preceding and stamping his foot in annoyance as Percy bounced into him and forced him to spill his drink.
"Sometimes that man really irritates me," Baroness Orczy's husband, Montague Barstow, mutters as he stares after the retreating Baronet. He then examines his soaking wet clothing.
"But he tells such wonderful stories, Monty," Orczy says, smiling up at her husband.
"That's true, but I do wish he's give some warning before he just appears in our home like he seems so fond of doing, especially if he's going to heave about like that." Upon hearing this, Doug and the Girl immediately burst out laughing. Bewildered, Barstow looks at the two. "What?" he asks, but the two time-travelers are laughing too hard to answer. Barstow momentarily considers demanding that they tell exactly why they're laughing at him, but then he decides that if such an odd group of people is involved, perhaps the less he knew the safer his sanity would be. Silently praying that all these strange people will leave soon so he can have a little peace and quiet again, he returns his attention to his wife.
"Here's your tea, m'dear," he says, giving Emma her teacup and a short peck on the cheek.
"Thank you, dear," she says, smiling as he leaves the room. The Girl Who Until Recently Had Been Wearing The Robe A L'Anglais, And May Once More Be Wearing It, I Do Not Recall, stopped him in the doorframe and examined his now stained shirt more closely.
"Sir, what is that?"
"V8," he said exasperated. "Percy brought me back some from the future once, and I simply love it."
The group stared at each other in awe... well, except for Doug who was talking to the Baroness about the addition of a character named Grapplin, Armand who was still breaking things, and Javert who truly couldn't care less and was examining Orczy's room for evidence that 24601 had been there.
"Sir, that's the exact fuel we need for our time machine! May we please have some?"
Barstow quickly glances around the room at all the people disrupting his nice quiet life and finally looks back at the Girl, realizing that getting everyone out of his house will be easier than he had previously thought. "You can take the whole bottle," he says with relief.
The Girl eagerly follows Mr. Barstow into the kitchen and when she returns, carrying a large three quarters full bottle of Tropical Blend V8 Splash, she sees that the Baroness, Doug, Andrew Lloyd Webber, Javert, Chauvelin, Marguerite, and Robot Terry have formed a loose circle around Armand, who has somehow managed to get his head stuck inside a large, most likely very expensive, vase and is staggering around unable to see.
"I'm not getting involved in this," Barstow mutters. "Emma darling," he calls in a louder voice, "if you need me, I'll be upstairs, changing my shirt." He doesn't say another word as he leaves, but he is most likely thinking something along the lines of "This is all Sir Percy's fault...."
Everyone just stands and stares at Armand for a minute, every now and then stepping out of range of his flailing arms when he comes too close. Finally, Doug clears his throat. "Anyone have any ideas?"
"Well," Chauvelin begins with an evil smile, "we could always guillotine him. After all, he *is* a traitor to the Republ- OUCH!!" The Citizen is interrupted by Lady Blakeney firmly grinding his instep into the carpet with her high-heeled shoe.
The Baroness, who is amused both by Marguerite's abuse of Chauvelin and by the idea of guillotining Armand, tries to pretend that her giggling is only a coughing fit.
"Then again," Chauvelin continues, his teeth clenched in pain, "perhaps we shouldn't guillotine the boy because it might damage out host's vase." Marguerite continues to glower, but she removes her weight from his foot. "Besides, how much air can one little vase hold? It's only a matter of time before he suffoc- ARGH!!!" Once again Marguerite stomps on his foot.
The Girl in the robe a la anglaise wishes that she could get Lady Blakeney to stop hurting her dear little ChauChau, but she knows that she would be no match for the tall Frenchwoman if it came to a fight, so she does the only other thing that she can think of. She carefully sets the V8 on a nearby table then, knocking Armand's legs out from under him, she grabs hold of the vase and yanks if off of his head with a quick twist. She hands the vase to the Baroness, pushes the rather disoriented St. Just towards his sister, and then goes to try to comfort Chauvelin, who as usual growls and pulls away, refusing to be comforted as he stares longingly at Marguerite.
The Girl is still trying to get Chauvelin's attention when someone wraps their arms around her and plants a big sloppy kiss on her cheek. Struggling, she turns around as best she can to get a look at her assailant. With horror, she sees Armand (St. Just of course) staring at her with a dopey grin on his face, looking even more like a puppy than usual.
"You saved me!" he yips happily before trying to kiss her again, this time on the lips.
"Ewww! Stop slobbering on me! What on earth do you think you're doing?"
"You saved me, so now we fall in love and get married."
"WHAT?!?!" she demands, then mutters to herself, "*grrr* Why is it that I only attract the idiots?"
"That's how it worked for Sir Andrew and Suzanne," he whines. "He saved her and she fell in love with him. You saved me so now I have to fall in love with you."
"Not a chance!" Struggling harder, she manages to get free and then searches for something with which to defend herself. Unfortunately, Armand had already broken everything in the room that might have made a good projectile, Javert won't let her borrow his nightstick, and when she tries to grab the lovely sword hanging over the mantelpiece, she finds that it is glued into its sheath and bolted to the wall. "Daam!" She is forced to settle for a newspaper which someone, presumably either the Baroness or her husband, left sitting on a table next to the window. "Back off, Puppy-boy!" she growls, brandishing the rolled-up newspaper in what would have been a threatening manner if her weapon had been anything other than a newspaper.
"But... but... but..." **THWACK!** "Owwwwwwwww." Whimpering, Armand runs to his sister, who does her best to calm him. As she uses her handkerchief to wipe the faint smear of black ink off of Armand's nose, Lady Blakeney glares balefully at the girl in the robe a la anglaise.
The Girl returns the glare. "I warned him, so it's his own fault for not listening." Marguerite huffs in annoyance as the girl sticks her tongue out at her then picks up the V8 juice and walks towards the time machine. "This story already has enough unrequited love as it is," the Girl mutters.
The travelers squeeze into the time machine and are just about to close the door when Doug stops and points at Armand, who is still sulking behind Marguerite. "What about him?"
"I vote we leave him here," Chauvelin immediately responds. "Knowing him, the twit would probably break something important, stranding us in Pompeii when Mt. Vesuvius is erupting or possibly somewhere even less desirable." The Girl and Andrew Lloyd Webber voice their agreement. Javert and Robot Terry don't seem to care one way or the other.
"Actually," Doug sighs, "I think we need to take him with us."
"WHAT?!?"
"Look at it this way," Doug says, hoping to avoid being lynched by an apparently nameless girl in a fancy dress and a dirty coat, a famous modern English composer, and a small obsessive Frenchman wearing a Dracula costume. He is much taller than all of them, but all three look like they have murder on their minds if he can't convince them that he's right. "Would you rather have him where we can keep an eye on him and try to fix any damage he does, or leave him here where it's only a matter of time before he does something to mess up history and there's no one to stop him? I don't know about the rest of you, but I'd rather not get home only to find that I hadn't been born."
The Girl and ALW grudgingly agree with the actor, but Chauvelin just smirks, saying "Anything the twit does to this time has no effect on my past."
"Yes, why are you accompanying us anyway? Why don't you just think your way back to Revolutionary France?" ALW says as he turns to examine the Citizen.
"If you must know," Chauvelin grumbles, "I intend to retrieve my favorite snuffbox from that pathetic royalist who stole it while attempting to prove that he had authority over an accredited agent of the Republic of France."
"Who?"
"The dean."
The composer thought for a minute, then said, "But, if your snuffbox is in the possession of someone in the future, and that young man over there does something to alter history, doesn't that mean that your snuffbox will be erased from existence when the timeline changes?"
"What?!? NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fine! We'll bring the boy, but don't let him near the controls! AND LET'S BE QUICK ABOUT THIS!!!" Chauvelin shoves Armand into the time machine, slams the door closed, then thinks for a moment, gets out of the time machine again, and tries to shove Marguerite in too. Lady Blakeney kicks ChauChau in the shins, refusing to anywhere with him. Cursing, Chauvelin hobbles back into the time machine and begins entering the coordinates for his desired destination. He is just about to press the start button when suddenly the door is thrown open and someone grabs him by the wrist. He looks up and sees Baroness Orczy's husband standing there looking very angry, still wearing his V8 stained shirt, which is now mostly unbuttoned.
"I believe you are forgetting something," Barstow growls.
"Huh?" Then, Chauvelin realizes that, yes, they were indeed forgetting something, but it would be in his best interest if it remained forgotten. With one of his sarcastic smiles, he lies, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I'll give you a hint," Barstow says, still gripping Chauvelin's wrist to prevent him from starting the time machine. "It's over six feet tall, has blond hair, and is currently buried in a pile of my clothing, weeping into my best silk vest!"
"Daam."
After pulling Percy out of his hiding place in the back of Mr. Orczy's closet, the group bade farewell to the authors, fired up the time machine, and left.
A moment later, everyone steps out into a small, sparsely furnished room.
"Hey! This isn't California!" the Girl exclaims worriedly.
"No, this is Paris in December 1793," Chauvelin says as he walks to a chest of drawers and begins rummaging through the contents, all of it black.
"But-"
"And, yes, it really is 1793 this time. I double-checked the date before we even left. This is my apartment, and- I see what you're doing over there, Blakeney! Don't even think about it!" Sir Percy drops the tricolor sash to which he had been attempting to pin an edging of pink lace. He grins innocently but doesn't look at all apologetic.
"But I thought you wanted to get your snuffbox back and then go back to your own time," the Girl says.
"I do, but if I have to spend any more time in your ridiculous century, I want to do so while wearing my own clothing." He neatly stacks the clothes he has selected from the drawer and carries them into the adjoining room, closing the door behind him. Percy immediately begins pinning the lace on the sash again.
The Girl watches Percy for a moment and then asks, "Where did you get that?"
"The sash? I found it draped over the back of that chair over there. Sink me! Not only does the man need a makeover, but he needs an interior decorator too!"
"I meant that pink lace. Chauvelin wouldn't be caught dead near that stuff if he could help it."
"La, but I always carry some with me, pencil and paper in the right-hand pocket, froufrou in the left! Froufrou…" he repeats wistfully, as he remembers the punishment he will soon have to endure to appease his wife. Then, just as quickly, he snaps back to his normal bubbly self. "Demmed useful stuff froufrou is! You never know when it'll come in handy."
"Such as now," Doug says blandly, joining the conversation.
"Well, now that you mention it, yes, but there have been plenty of other occasions, such as earlier today when the young lady and myself needed to dress dear M. Chambertin while he was unconscious."
The girl in the robe a la anglaise gapes in disbelief. "You didn't!"
"Didn't what?" Doug blinks.
"Oh yes!"
"What?"
"You couldn't have!"
"He couldn't have what??"
"I did!"
"But my back was only turned for a second!"
"That was all it took!"
"All it took for what???"
"But- but- but-"
"Exactly!" Percy laughs.
"WHAT ARE YOU TWO TALKING ABOUT?!?!?!?!!?"
The Girl takes a deep breath then exclaims, "Sir Percy froufroued Chauvelin!"
"Huh?"
"Froufrou! He put froufrou on Chauvelin's clothes when I wasn't looking!"
"But I didn't see anything that looked like..."
"You wouldn't, not where Percy put it..."
"Then where...? Oh!"
"Oh yes!" Percy gasps out between laughter. "Those black boxer-shorts of his were just begging for froufrou, and he should be discovering it right about n-"
"AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" The Citizen's enraged bellow echoes through the apartment and is immediately followed by a deadly silence lasting exactly the amount of time it takes Chauvelin to put on a pair of pants.
Then, the door to the other room flies open with a bang and Chauvelin storms in with his clothing askew and his face bright red with rage. "What is the meaning of this?!?" he demands, brandishing the aforementioned befroufroued boxer-shorts.
"Laaa!" Percy drawls as he makes great show of using his quizzing glass to examine the offending piece of clothing. "My dear M. Chambertin, they would appear to be your undergarments!"
"I know what they are, Sir Percy," Chauvelin growls icily.
"Then why-ever did you ask?" Blakeney, sounding every bit the idiotic fop, continues, "I mean really! You Frenchies go around asking questions you already know the answers to while waving your unmentionables around for all to see when there's a lady present!" Actually, the lady in question is far too engrossed with staring at Chauvelin's angrily heaving chest, visible through his open shirt, to even notice anything else, but she's standing with her back to the baronet, so that, unable to see her face, he simply assumes that she's offended. "It's no wonder your demmed country is such a shambles!" Percy tries to end his speech wearing the look of the 'morally superior' Englishman, but he has a difficult time fighting down a severe case of the giggles.
"*Grrr* Why do I even bother?"
"I truly haven't the foggiest idea, but if you'd allow me to make a few suggestions as to your wardrobe, we could have the rest of your clothes matching those lovely, if somewhat inappropriately displayed, undergarments in no time at all. Now all you have to do is-"
Chauvelin cuts off Blakeney's chatter with a snarl.
"If You Ever," Chauvelin says slowly, emphasizing each word with a menacing (well, not really menacing, but it was meant to be) shake of the lace-covered boxer-shorts, "Even Think Of So Much As Touching Any Part Of My Clothing Ever Again I Swear You Will Regret It!" And with that he turns and stomps back into his bedroom to finish dressing, slamming the door behind him.
"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell!" Percy rolls his eyes melodramatically and then bursts into hyena-like laughter.
Five minutes (and much giggling from Sir Percy Blakeney, Baronet) later, Chauvelin emerges from his bedroom, neatly dressed in his own froufrouless clothing. The group once again climbs into the time machine and disappears.
The door to the time machine opened, and the group found themselves in a space ship, floating about. A voice made them all jump. (Which, of course, simply meant they floated further away, since they were after all in space)
"I don't think that's the right date, Armand..." the soft, mechanical voice said. Chauvelin, annoyed, pulled them back inside and, setting the controls to '2001 AD', instead of '2001: A Space Odyssey', sent them going once more.
The group, which now consisted of (are you keeping track?) Doug, Percy, Chauvelin, The Girl, Robot Terry, Andrew Lloyd Webber, Armand, and Javert, (Unless one has eluded my memory...) FINALLY arrived back at the present, landing in the gymnasium of the high school which, like The Girl, has yet to be named. They all breathed a sigh of relief, with the exception of Robot Terry who, with a huff of annoyance, went off to the men's bathroom of clean off the various gunk that had accumulated on his head.
"Alright," Percy said, looking around and suddenly growing very nervous. "The CATS people have apparently left, so we have to go find them. Everyone split up!"
The rest of the group groaned, including Zath who appeared, quite out of nowhere, to speak.
"Percy, if you wouldn't mind..." Zath said.
"Where did you..."
"Please don't make everyone split up. It'll be quite annoying to have to HTML!"
Percy, not knowing what HTML was, but not wanting to appear stupid, nodded. Zath, with a smile, thanked him and, quick as she had appeared, disappeared back to her computer console. The group took a moment to stare in awe but, considering their day, didn't consider it too odd.
"Alright, we'll go together. Where should we start with?" he asked, looking to The Girl. She quickly took the lead, heading outside.
IN THE ART ROOM:
"The cheerleaders need you outside right now, Suzanne," the pimple-faced man said, popping his head in the art room door to refer to the painter. Andrew tried, unsuccessfully, to sit up.
"Your name's SUZANNE?"
"Yeah," she said, putting paints and brushes down. "Um... I'll be back in a few minutes, they probably just want me to do some pictures. Apparently, they're doing some new stunt involving Revolutionary France, and want some pictures taken. Just stay there..."
Andrew jumped to his feet. Well, rather, jumped and landed in a heap on the floor.
"WAIT!" he cried. "You have to stop them!"
But, alas, she had left the room. Truly heroically, Andrew began to crawl his way along the floor.