First, I should say that I like Shark, Thunderwolf and Tatiana. I only pick on people I enjoy, whose characters make them wonderfully, delightfully...vulnerable, heh heh heh...

That said, I promised Shark his boyfriend could have a fighting chance against the Poodle this time, which he does. In fact, he is the first to discover a way to neutralize Her Fluffiness altogether!

Besides, Tatiana and TW make far too splendid a team to leave soaking in a bathtub >:)

********

Tatiana walked into the living room wrapped in a black robe decorated with pink Bunny-Ra heads. She flounced to the sofa and plopped down in a pout.

"I can't belIEVE this!" she complained. "Finally the gods drop a hunky evil saber-lion into my bathtub, and he's gay! Somebody up there does not like me."

There were clinking sounds in the kitchen, then Thunderwolf entered the room, handing the undead sorceress a beer.

"Your loss," he said, sitting down in a recliner opposite her. He bit off the top half of his beer bottle, cap and all, chewing noisily with a thoughtful expression. Then he looked at the label on the bottle.

"'Born on September-nine, why-two-kay," he said after swallowing. "Good month."

Tatiana sipped her beer and said, "Nice, you even raised your pinky."

"Yeh, I'm the soul of refinement," he replied, then belched mightily.

"So what's your beef with Fianna anyway?" Tatiana asked.

Thunderwolf raised an eyebrow. "It started over a headlock. Since then he's given me alchohol poisoning, put my head through a stone wall, dropped me in a moat, bounced me off a spaceship and into your bathtub. But the thing that really pisses me off is getting my ass kicked by a poodle. There's no forgiving that."

Tatiana set down her bottle, rose and headed for the stairs, beckoning Thunderwolf to follow. Curious, the lion put the rest of his beer in his mouth and followed, crunching quietly.

They turned a landing and went down the hall to a badly-broken door at the end. The smell made the meat-packing plant in RD's "Reading Pus Bucket" seem like a field of violets in bloom. Tatiana kicked the broken door open and gestured inside.

"Damn," Thunderwolf grumbled, examining the decaying carnage in the room. Intestine was hung around the ceiling like garland, festooned with human bones. Most of the skeleton had been smashed and incorporated into a grisly, yet tasteful, mural of a white french poodle on the left wall.

Tatiana walked to a nearby lamp. The shade had been replace by her own head. She touched the base three times, making light shine from the head's mouth and eyes in three increasing levels of brightness. On the fourth touch, the light went out.

"There's something...familiar about this," Thunderwolf said quietly, looking around.

"I should think so. Most of it is standing here talking to you. The parts she didn't bury in the sofa, anyway."

"No, I mean the style. There's something here I'm not quite seeing," the insane lion said.

"All I'm seeing is tombstones with little green and white dogs all over them," Tatiana said, then shrugged. "And I don't know why. Nothing can touch Fianna as long as that Poodle of his is around, and she's unstoppable."

"Why's that?" TW asked as he examined the bed. The pillows had been placed in slipcovers fashioned from human skin.

"Lady Bast said she has 'primacy' whatever the hell that is," Tatiana grumped. "She's more powerful than anybody because she thinks this is all a bunch of bull."

"She won't play by the rules," Thunderwolf said, stepping over a pool of congealing blood. "I knew there was something about her I liked."

"So anyway, she's just too powerful. We can't beat her."

Suddenly Thunderwolf spun around, looking at the room with new awareness in his eyes. When he turned back to Tatiana, he was smiling, an expression that chilled even the undead sorceress' blood.

"Naw," he said. "Maybe we can't hurt her, but I know how to get her out of the way." The lion cracked his massive knuckles.

"Then we'll make Fianna pay enough for both of them."

********

A sleek silver spacecraft flew low over the the ocean just off the shore of the continent inhabited by the various creatures of Third Earth. After several minutes of supersonic cruising, it halted over the water.

At the controls of the mighty vessel sat eight pounds of fluffy white poodle. The tiny dog manipulated the controls of the vessel with delicate touched of her toes, guiding it expertly. After she had it in a comfortable hover, she turned her attention to the clanging sound from behind her.

The clanging was being made by Shark, the fourth abductee the aliens had taken. The method of production was by banging the poodle's husband's head repeatedly against the vessel's deck.

The poodle let it go on a moment longer, on the off-chance the ichtyoid might beat some sense into Fianna's eccentric mind, then decided to intervene before brain damage could render the green caninoid any stranger than he already was.

The little dog hopped off the pilot's seat, walked up beside the fighting writers, and gave a cute little bark, demanding attention.

Shark ceased pounding the semi-conscious Fianna's head against the floor, then leaned over towards the poodle. He opened his mouth wide, displaying a dazzling array of serrated teeth, and hissed menacingly.

The poodle actually smiled.

*******

Some time later, Fianna stepped out of the doghouse shower and shook himself vigorously, sending water flying. This elicited a snort of protest from the poodle lying on the dog-bed by the furnace vent.

"It's only water precious, it'll dry," the caninoid said as he slipped into his jammies. The poodle warbled as he dropped onto the bed beside her, and he replied, "Fine, thanks. The Tylenol did the trick. But I still can't believe you got him to fit in there."

The poodle raised her snout proudly, then yawned. Fianna choked slightly and said, "Honey, why don't I get you one of those minty chew-toys you like? Your breath smells like fish sticks."

The poodle snorted derisively, then put her head down and closed her eyes. Fianna got out of bed and went out the door, down the stairs and into the kitchen. He began rummaging in the cupboards of the darkened kitchen.

"Pedigree, Mighty Dog, Ceasar, ah, here it is-Milkbone," he said. The moment he closed the door the kitchen was flooded with bright light from outside.

"FIANNA! GET YOUR GREEN ASS OUT HERE AND PREPARE TO BE PUT TO SLEEP!" Thunderwolf's voice blasted from the front yard. The caninoid sighed, then opened the door and went out onto the porch.

"Well I see you survived re-entry," Fianna grinned. "And Tatiana, I see you've pulled yourself together."

Out on the lawn, the famed insane lion stood confrontationally, mace in hand. Behind him stood the undead sorceress and reknowned head-kicker, holding a rope. The rope led to a large cube, covered with a canvass tarp.

"No more screwing around, dog-breath!" Thunderwolf roared. "I've suffered enough indignities out of you, and this time you're gonna pay!"

"Guys, can't this wait till morning? I'm kinda tired, and I got this really awful headache..."

"I SAID YOU'RE GONNA DIE NOW, MISTER!!!"

"Okay, okay, just keep it down, will ya? You're gonna wake the whole neighborhood."

Just then, the poodle emerged from the house, sat down beside her husband and grinned at the others, both of whom took an involuntary step backwards. Then Thunderwolf laughed loudly.

"Welcome Mrs Fianna!" he crowed. "Before you attack, I'd like to direct your attention to the object behind me! In it is a prize you could win this very night!" TW half turned and called to his accomplice, "Tatiana, let's show little miss fluffy-pants what she stands to win."

Tatiana gestured elaborately, then tapped the sheet, causing it to fly upward. Beneath it was a cage, and in the cage two humans.

"This is all your fault, you two bit upstart. Catering to the white trash of the world-" the blond woman mumbled.

"Bee-keeping! Why, I ask you, would you do a show on bee-keeping? The startup alone is like, ten thousand dollars!" the balding man said, punctuating his complaints with thrashing hands.

Above the quarellers' heads was suspended a thick steel platform, the underside set with wicked-looking knives. All that held the deadly apparatus up was one of Slinky Avenger's famed Pointy Sticks (tm), tied to the rope Tatiana held.

"YIPE!" the poodle cried in dismay.

"MWAAAHAHAHA!" Thunderwolf roared. "That's right, it's your two favorite TV personalities, Martha Stewart and Christopher Lowell, together for the first time!"

"Now here's the name of the game, Poodle," TW said wickedly. "You let your hubby fight his own battles with me. If he wins, you get the decorators. If I win, you get the decorators anyway, and whatever's left of the nincompoop. But set one paw off that porch, and my partner pulls the plug on these two," he said, pointing over his shoulder. "Permanently!"

The poodle yipped and yowled, staring anxiously at the cage, bouncing off her husband's shin and trembling worriedly.

"It's okay, angel," Fianna said grimly, gazing at the insane lion. "I'll take care of this."

The caninoid stepped off the porch and walked to where Thundrwolf stood. The sabertooth grinned, discarded his mace and raised his fists. Fianna did likewise.

The two began to circle each other warily.

*******

"Brat!" the elder barked. "Who the hell do you think you are? I've been around here for years, and you think you're just gonna waltz in here and start making trouble?"

"Age is no match for talent, you washed-up has-been! Why do you think my audience gets bigger every week while yours continues to fall off?"

"Has-been! Hey asshole, I was doing this while your mama was still changing your diapers!"

"Yeah, it shows too. When was the last time you did anything original? Or easy to understand? Or that demonstrated a single shred of creativity!"

"Oh, that is IT!" the elder bellowed and lunged for the weapon between them.

*******

Fianna and Thunderwolf had been circling each other warily for a solid five minutes without making a single move.

"Um, Thunderwolf?" the lion heard Tatiana say. He ignored her.

"Thunderwolf?!" he heard again, and this time the note of panic in her voice caught his attention. He teed his hands in a "time-out" sign. While Fianna straightend and began fishing in his jammy pockets for his pipe, the lion turned to face his cohort.

"Do you mind?" he said. "I'm jockeying for position here."

Tatiana, pale to the point of translucense, pointed to the nearby cage. Thunderwolf looked at it and said, "Ooooh shiiiit."

The blade-set platform they'd erected over Christopher Lowell and Martha Stewart's heads was now embedded in the grass of the cage bottom. Blood from the perforated decorators flowed out from the boundary of the bars, soaking into the soft soil. From beneath the crushing instrument, Stewart's hand was visible, clutching the Pointy Stick (TM) in a vice-like death grip.

They both turned slowly towards the porch. Sitting there, the poodle looked at the cage with eyes like saucers. Her lower lip quivered. Then she looked at Tatiana and Thunderwolf.

"AAAUUGHSHIIIIIIIIIITTT!" the villains screamed and took off at a full run. Behind them came a sound like growling and barking, increased in speed and volume till the individual sounds blurred, resembling the roar of a chainsaw, the throaty growl of a lawnmower.

They didn't get far.

********

The door to Tatiana's house swung open and a badly mauled figure staggered inside. Over his shoulder was a large plastic garbage bag, from which muffled noises could be heard.

Thunderwolf staggered into the kitchen. It was a testament to the lion's physical power that he could stand at all. Grimly he remembered the streaking comet of white fluff and slashing fangs that had come streaking after them...

He dropped the bag on the floor, hearing a curse from within. As he went to the fridge for a brew, the bag tipped, spilling Tatiana's head out onto the floor.

"Hey! Do you mind?!" she protested. "I could use one of those too, ya know!"

Thunderwolf knotted his fingers in the sorceress's hair, then set her severed head on the counter. He tipped her head back and poured beer into her mouth, which immediately flowed out her severed neck and all over the counter.

"Well, that was pointless," the insane lion mumbled as he pulled open the nearest drawer. He fished around a moment, then produced a nearly-empty roll of duct tape. He then lifted Tatiana's torso from the bag and set the still-warm chunk of tissue on the counter next to her head.

"'Let me handle it,' you said. 'I got it all planned out,' you said," Tatiana snarled as the lion mounted her head on her neck and began to wrap the duct tape around the seam.

"Quit bitching," Thunderwolf grumbled. "How was I supposed to know Martha Stewart and Christopher Lowell were mortal enemies? Besides, I got my ass handed to me, too."

"At least she handed you your ass. We never found mine!" Tatiana snapped as her eyes filled with tears.

"Take it easy, take it easy," Thunderwolf consoled. "I'll get you something." The insane lion left the kitchen, and shortly Tatiana heard him banging around upstairs. He returned a few moments later and slapped a piece of flesh onto the counter.

Tatiana gaped at the organ in horror. "You can't put that on me! It stinks and it's got bite marks all over it!"

"It's what you got, take it or leave it." When the sorceress lapsed into a sulky silence, the lion said, "Okay then. I got good news and bad news."

"What's the good news?" Tatiana said with obvious dread.

"We're out of duct tape."

"Then what's the bad news?!"

"I found a staple gun," Thunderwolf said as he flopped the sorceress onto her belly and positioned the butt for reattachment.

"Those OW! dogs are OW! gonna pay OW! for this! OW!" Tatiana snarled.

"Why?" Thunderwolf said mildly. "I've been thinking about it. All of this violence is pointless. It doesn't get us anywhere but the emergency room. Fianna is a smart-ass, but there'd never have been a fight if I hadn't come after him for that stupid headlock crack."

The lion sighed as he finished stapling Tatiana's pelvis into place. "Maybe it's time to let bygones be-"

There was a sound from the door, a quiet scratching.

Instantly Thunderwolf whirled around, his mace appearing in his hand. The abrupt spin, ocurring in mid-staple, gave Tatiana a burst of momentum that rolled her off the counter. She screamed and hit the floor with a thud.

Thunderwolf advanced carefully towards the door, mace and staple gun in hand. Reaching it, he slowly turned the latch, then yanked it open and sprang away weapons poised to strike.

On the stoop outside was a small object, resting on a piece of paper. With great care and much looking around, Thunderwolf leaned down and retrieved both.

The paper was a note, covered with little paw prints, the writing awkward, as though the author had been holding the pen in her mouth. He read it on the porch, using the light from the kitchen behind him. It said:

TW

No hard feelings

Ms F

Then he turned his attention to the metal can. The logo on the label read "FishSticks Brand". Beside the text was a picture of Shark in his aquatic mode. Next to this were the words, "Dolphin-Safe".

As Thunderwolf stared at the can in gaping horror, he felt more than heard a series of tiny taps from within it. Putting the can to his ear he heard a thin, muffled sound.

"...help me...," it said.

"FIIIIIIAAAAAAAANAAAAAA!"