Posted on Thursday, 18 June 1998

Colonel Fitzwilliam, having lately arrived in England from the Arctic, longed to see his old friends again. However, after such a lengthy trip, it is natural for a gentleman to be in want of refreshment. Once arriving London, instead of proceeding to his club or Darcy's home, he went directly to his favourite pub, the Fox, for a pint of ale. As soon as he entered the establishment, he sat down at his usual table and the barkeep immediately sent over a pint. No sooner had the barmaid delivered the drink (and given the Colonel a lengthy kiss), when six men approached him. After taking a long draught from his ale, the Colonel slowly looked up at his company. He narrowed his eyes as he immediately recognized George Wickham in the gang. Alarm bells rang in his head as he instinctively knew these were not men of honour.

"May I help you?" the Colonel asked coolly.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam," began Wickham, "allow me to introduce you to my friends. This is John Willoughby of Allenham…"

The Colonel nodded to the gentleman as Willoughby took off his hat, gave a deep bow, and flashed a disarming smile. "You shall know that you have wronged me yet, or you shall never see me again…"

"As you wish…" mumbled the Colonel, confused at Willoughby's statement.

"Henry Crawford of Norfolk…"

The Colonel turned his attention to the gentleman standing next to Willoughby and nodded. Compared to Willoughby, Crawford seemed very stiff and mechanical in his actions, as if confined to a small stage.

"Frank Churchill of Enscombe…"

"May the force be with you," said Frank with a bow.

As the Colonel nodded, he thought to himself, The force? What? I don't know who this bloke is, but he is in desperate need of a haircut.

"John Thorpe of…" Wickham furrowed his brow, "Well, this is John Thorpe…"

The Colonel struggled not to frown as he nodded to Thorpe.

"Yeah!" exclaimed the dull witted man.

"And this is William Walter Elliot of the Elliots of Kellynch-hall in Somersetshire…"

"My uncle is a Baronet," he squeaked before everyone shot him a nasty look. As he nervously looked at the irritated faces, he peeped, "But he is!"

"To get to the point," interrupted Willoughby, "we have a grievance with you."

"What complaint could you possibly have of me?" the Colonel questioned. "Until a few moments ago, I had not had the displeasure of meeting any of you except for Mr. Wickham."

"You stole our women!" exclaimed Henry Crawford.

"Yeah!" interjected John Thorpe.

"And we have come to exact our revenge," said George Wickham menacingly.

"Yeah!" agreed Thorpe.

The Colonel slowly released his hold on his tankard of ale and carefully moved his hand down to his sword. "Would you gentlemen care to step outside and settle this disagreement?"

"You bet we would!" Frank Churchill declared while pulling out a strange type of glowing sword that made unusual hissing sounds. "Your Empire is finished."

Ignoring Frank's odd behaviour, George Wickham growled, "Ever since you arrived, there have been no women left for us. We've decided that there isn't enough room here in the Republic of Pemberley for all of us and we are taking it upon ourselves to correct the situation."

"Yeah!" shouted Thorpe.

Just then, a strangely attired, large, bald man with strange designs on his forearms stepped in between the parties. "Not here!" he ordered while separating the parties. "It is not time. You aren't scheduled until tomorrow at high noon in the Arena."

"Yeah!" Thorpe cheered.

Irritated, Henry Crawford interrupted, "What schedule? We aren't scheduled…"

"Right here little man," growled the large bald man while shoving a poster in his face.

Frank looked over Henry's shoulder at the poster and began to read it to the group, especially to John Thorpe, who he doubted was literate. "Austen's Celebrity Deathmatches featuring the Honourable Colonel Fitzwilliam against the Dishonourable Villains. Sponsored in part by MTV."

"Why don't they ever play music videos anymore," whined Mr. Elliot.

Everyone turned and glared at him while Wickham grumbled, "Oh who invited this wimpy tart along with us anyway? He looks like a prissy girl."

"Yeah!" agreed Thorpe.

"Thorpe did," frowned Willoughby.

"Yeah!" agreed Frank while scowling at John Thorpe.

"You are all missing the point," interrupted Henry Crawford. "What are the rules of this 'Deathmatch'?" he asked the intervenor.

"Rule one is there are no weapons, especially one's given to you by a two foot green muppet," the bald man replied while looking very pointedly at Frank.

"What?" asked Frank innocently while putting away his lightsabre.

"Rule two is no biting," the bald man warned while looking at Willoughby.

Willoughby crossed his arms defiantly. "Then no garlic!"

The bald man looked at the Colonel, who nodded in agreement. "Done," answered the bald man.

"Rule three is there are no other rules. Winner takes all! This is for the whole enchilada! The victor will be the stud of the Republic and the loser will play minor roles and rarely get the women. Agreed?"

"Agreed," all of the men said in unison, except for John Thorpe who could only say "Yeah!"

The next day, Darcy paced around his cousin's dressing room. "Are you sure this is such a good idea Fitzwilliam? I could sneak you out of England on the next ship bound for France. The king's son, Fitzroy, has said he will be of assistance to us."

"Darcy, Darcy! You worry too much!" said Fitzwilliam gleefully. "Besides, I will enjoy the chance to fight men. After running away from women for months or being forced to degrade myself to the position of fighting them, it is a welcome change."

"But these men are not honourable. What if they do not abide by the rules? What if something horrible happens to you?" asked Darcy.

"Then I shall die in battle, as I should have years ago. Trust me Darcy, there are worst fates."

As the crowd began to file into the arena, the announcers' booth was a whirl of activity. Dan, one of the announcers for the match, began to babble into his microphone. "Welcome to Austen's Celebrity Deathmatches," he energetically announced. "As you can see, we have a sell out crowd today! Everyone is hungry for blood. And we have quite a few celebrities in the sitting in the stands! Over to my right, we have the Darcys and the Fitzwilliams, all equipped with red pom-poms ready to cheer their man on. Over to my left, is a crowd from Devonshire. Leading the brood is Colonel Brandon, who is ordering his stuttering brother-in-law, Edward Ferrars, to distribute tortillas to everyone. Across from us are the Knightleys. Rumours have been flying that Mr. Knightley sent Colonel Fitzwilliam a six-foot tall bug of some sort to fight for him, but the Colonel refused his help. Behind me are the Wentworths, Elliots, and Musgroves. Captain Wentworth seems to be making quite a fuss and working the crowd into a frenzy for this brawl. Let's listen in to his chant…"

"Those who live in glass chapels shouldn't throw stones Elliot!" screamed Captain Wentworth.

"Dear, I believe it is glass houses, not chapels," corrected Anne gently.

"Oh. Right. Sorry mate," he mumbled while sinking back into his chair.

Stan, seeing his opportunity to get a word in edge wise, started in, "Dan, this should be a good match. Good versus evil. One the one side, you have a lone warrior, Colonel Stud Muffin, and on the other side, you have the most vile ladies' men the world has ever known."

Just then, Dan interrupted, "Here they come! LET'S GET READY TO RRRUUUMMMBBBLLLEEE!!! In the red corner, weighing in at only 12 stones and 4 pounds, the hero, Colonel Fitzwilliam."

The arena erupted into applause as Colonel Fitzwilliam struggled in, while his bodyguards peeled the women off of him.

"Let me go!" screamed Annie as Denny forcibly removed her from the premises. "I love you Colonel and want your bod!"

"He's mine!" screeched Mary Kate as Captain Benwick grabbed her hair and yanked her out of the way.

"Noooooo!" howled Robyn as Henry Tilney, Edmund Bertram, and Mr. Weston pried her fingers loose from the Colonel's pant leg.

As the Colonel moved through the masses of women surging forward to get a piece of him, he saw Marsha. "You villain!" he screamed upon seeing her. "You started this!!! It wasn't until you wrote The Most Eligible Bachelor of Pemberley that my nightmare began! You have destroyed my life!"

Marsha suddenly ran up and grabbed the Colonel around the neck and gave him a big, wet kiss. "Marry me you fool, then you'll never be a bachelor and you'll never have to worry about other women again."

"Who's kidding whom?" he cried while trying to escape her octopus reach. "I've already been married at least a dozen times and every time I turn around, I am married again! It doesn't help! I'm doomed!"

As the bodyguards rushed forward to remove the Colonel's tormentor, he finally made it forward to the ring. As he was about to climb through the ropes, Rachel and CK suddenly appeared at the ring's edge wearing red cheerleading outfits.

"Oh no, not you two again!" the Colonel groaned.

"You didn't think you would lose us that easily, did you?" said Rachel while blowing him a kiss.

The crowd instantly erupted into loud booing upon the appearance of the challengers. Dan cleared his throat before yelling, "And for the black corner, weighing in at a collective weight of 73 stones and 4 pounds and an I.Q. of 115, the blackguards!!!"

As the group of villains entered the ring, Georgiana Darcy Fitzwilliam elbowed her husband, David, in the ribs. "Are you sure you shouldn't be among them?" she asked while glaring at him. "It seems all of the ladies' men and adulterers are down there…"

"George please," he whined. "Surely you cannot believe I am like them…"

"No, not really," she admitted sheepishly, while lowering her gaze to the ground.

At that moment unbeknownst to his wife, David spotted a beautiful brunette with a perfect smile and he winked and flashed a dazzling smile of his own.

The large bald man who originally proposed the Deathmatch climbed into the ring following the gang of six. "Remember the rules, gentleman and villains…"

"I resemble that remark!" said Mr. Elliot in a huff before his teammates groaned.

"It is 'resent' idiot," hissed Frank. "You resent that remark."

"Well, you know what I meant," Elliot said while blushing furiously.

"Ready?" asked the bald referee while looking at the contestants. After they all nodded, he shouted, "Let's get it on!" and dodged out of the way.

Immediately, five villains dove forward, leaping for the Colonel. (Mr. Elliot stood in the corner, bragging "My uncle is a Baronet, therefore I don't have to fight.") After gaining so much practice dodging women, the Colonel easily outmaneuvered his competition, agilely stepping to one side as they came crashing to the ground. "Oh please," he taunted. "Lise, Katt, and Meesh are much better at capturing me than that."

"Yea!!! My hero!!!" cheered Caroline Bingley sitting in the stands.

Louisa turned to look at her sister and raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I must root for someone. After all, that pert Eliza Bennet trapped Darcy, then Edward Ferrars left me at the altar after his friends called me 'duck face.'"

"Yes dear, but you wouldn't want that stuttering mess anyway," soothed Louisa. "I hear he likes to pick up strange women in his carriage in a city called 'Hollywierd.'"

"Oh you are too cruel!" declared Caroline with an evil giggle before throwing an orange tortilla at the contestants in the ring.

Bingley rolled his eyes when he saw her behaviour.

"What?" Caroline asked innocently. "If I didn't dye the tortillas orange, they wouldn't match my dress…"

"And your shoes, and your hat, and your handbag…" continued Louisa.

John Thorpe, momentarily confused by the flying orange tortillas, missed his attack on Colonel Hot Pants. Instead the Colonel tripped the charging man and sent him flying into Henry Crawford.

"Yea! Colonel!" Rachel and CK cheered in unison.

"Like, we should do a cheer for the Colonel so he'll win," Rachel suggested to CK.

"Like, okay! That's a great idea!" CK nodded as she lined up next to Rachel.

"Ready? Okay!" Rachel began, before both women froze. After half a minute of looking confused, Rachel asked, "Like, what should we cheer?"

"I dunno," CK answered while scratching her head. "I'm not very good with cheers or rhymes."

Both girls frowned and sat down, trying to come up with a cheer.

"Rah, rah rah! Sis boom bah! Go Stud Muffin! Go Stud Muffin! Yea Stud Muffin?" Rachel suggested.

CK wrinkled her nose.

"Well you come up with something better then," Rachel pouted.

"Roses are red, violets are blue… You are really cute, I want to marry you?" offered CK.

"That's a cheer?"

"No," CK sheepishly admitted, "that's just what I wrote in my letter to Mr. Knightley last week."

Just then, both women turned their attention to Mr. Knightley, who, sensing their observance of him, frowned and shook his head in disdain.

"Still hasn't forgiven you for digging up Donwell Abbey, has he?" Rachel asked sympathetically.

"Nope," sighed CK. "That and there's the little problem with Emma… But perhaps I should take care of her in the future… Hmm…" CK said while furrowing her brow and looking evilly at her.

"I've got it!" shouted Rachel while jumping up. "Ready? Okay! Fitzie! Fitzie! He's our man! If he can't do it…"

"Knightley can," sighed CK.

Rachel turned and hit CK over the head with a pom-pom. "That's not it… It's 'If he can't do it, nobody can!"

"Oops," CK blushed.

Meanwhile in the ring, the Colonel was dodging all attacks with the greatest of ease. The hooligans kept leaping at him, but utilizing his vast experience with women, he nimbly avoided them. As the tortillas were flying through the air, the Colonel even stopped long enough to catch one of them and have a light snack. All looked well for the hero until Frank Churchill, using his Jedi powers, made a tortilla destined to hit him veer off its course and hit the Colonel in the face. The Colonel, momentarily blinded and stunned by the flying object, could not move out of the way when Henry Crawford leapt forth and tackled him, sending both men to the canvas.

"Dog pile!" screamed John Thorpe before he jumped on top of them.

"We have to do something!" cried Rachel leaping up from her chair. "We have to do a cheer to help the poor Colonel!"

"How 'bout a cheer to music?" offered CK while whipping out a Sony Discman from her pocket. "I have 'Hot You're Cool' by General Public?"

"Isn't that reeeeeaaallllyyyy old?" Rachel asked.

"Hey, I don't knock your age," growled CK while cueing up the song.

The villains had managed to all climb on top of the Colonel and were in the process of pummeling him, when they hear a strange type of orchestra playing and saw two women jumping up and down and attempting to dance to the music.

First, George Wickham followed by Henry Crawford stopped fighting, rose, and began to watch the women.

"…Tonight's the night! So hot you're cool, so cool you're hot! Show me my favourite beauty spot! Tie me up in a love knot…"

Wickham lecherously looked at Rachel and winked at her.

"I've got an idea," whispered CK to Rachel. "Keep them occupied," she said while slipping away.

To Rachel, the idea of flirting with George Wickham and Henry Crawford made her skin crawl, but she would do anything to help Hot Pants. "Hot! Hot! Hot!" she sang along with the song, "Legs against my chest! Stomach tight and wet! The very best, yes, you've guessed, you've guessed it!" With those lines, all of the men stopped fighting and came over to the edge of the mat to watch Rachel sing and dance. God CK, I hope you know what you're doing.

Meanwhile, CK ran to Mr. Knightley. "Mr. Knightley, Mr. Knightley, I need your help!" she panted.

"Not now," mumbled Mr. Knightley, whose eyes were riveted to Rachel. "Do you think I can convince her to live at Ecalpemos with me or perhaps Cancun?" he murmured.

"MR. KNIGHTLEY!"

Mr. Knightley snapped back into reality. "Huh? What is it?"

"I need a shovel. Do you have one?"

"A shovel?"

"Like the one you used to bury the dead bodies at that commune of yours…"

"Oh, right," he mumbled while reaching under his seat and handing the instrument to her.

"Thanks," CK said before stealing a kiss from him and then running to ring. "Here you are Colonel," she said while reaching over the ropes and offering him the shovel.

Confused, he asked, "What is this for? Am I to dig my way out of this mess?"

"For hitting the bad guys on the head!" she answered while looking at Frank Churchill pointedly.

"Good idea!" he said before swinging it and coming down hard on Frank's head.

"Yoda!" he mumbled before melting to the ground.

The sight and sound of Frank falling to the ground broke the spell Rachel had on the men.

The Colonel swung wildly and managed to hit and knock out Henry Crawford as well.

"Yes!" Rachel and CK said in unison before giving each other a high five.

"Enough of this!" hissed Willoughby. Suddenly, his eyes took on a strange, glowing pale colour and his teeth began to grow into fangs.

"Oh no!" cried Rachel, "He is turning into a vampire! I thought he only hung out in L.A."

"Apparently his territory has expanded," murmured CK, hypnotized by the sight.

Just then, Rachel spotted Elizabeth in the stands. "The cross!" she mumbled before running through the crowd to Lizzy. Upon reaching her, she said desperately, "I need to borrow your necklace."

"My necklace? Whatever for?" asked the astonished Elizabeth.

"I need the cross to help rescue the Colonel!" Elizabeth quickly took off her necklace and handed it to Rachel. "Thank you," Rachel gasped before running to Mr. Elton. "Mr. Elton, Mr. Elton! I need to borrow a Bible from you!"

Mr. Elton looked at her quizzically. "You mean one of those books that I have back at the vicarage? Now where did I put them again?" he asked his wife.

Rachel rolled her eyes and ran through the stands until she found Mr. Collins. "Mr. Collins! I need to borrow a Bible from you!"

Mr. Collins, who was more sweaty than usual because he was watching the match, was stunned by the request. "My dear child, had I known that such materials would have been required of me, I would have gladly complied. But I suppose a clergyman of my station should always be prepared. I am mortified that I cannot help you in your moment of distress and most humbly ask for your forgiveness."

"Whatever," Rachel growled as she ran off. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Edward Ferrars. "Edward! I need a Bible! May I borrow one from you?"

Edward was startled by Rachel's sudden appearance. "Ex-x-c-c-u-u-s-s-e-e m-m-m-e," he began. "Y-y-y-o-o-o-u w-w-w-a-a-a-nt…"

"Oh never mind," she growled, "You take too long." She let out an exasperated sigh before running through the stands, looking for another clergyman. Suddenly, she saw Edmund Bertram. "Edmund! Do you have a Bible I may borrow?"

Without a word, he quickly produced the book. "Thank you! Thank you!" shouted Rachel as she ran back towards the ring to rescue the Colonel.

Meanwhile in the ring, the Colonel was at a loss how he might deal with this "man" Willoughby who was suddenly changing into a vampire. The vampire was about to fly at the Colonel when Rachel suddenly appeared. She threw the Bible to him then quickly climbed on top of the ropes and leapt off of them on to the back of the vampire. She tackled him and wrapped Elizabeth's necklace around his neck. The cross immediately began burning into his flesh. As Willoughby screamed in agony and tried to attack her, Rachel jumped off of him and ran back outside of the ring to escape the monster's wrath. As the vampire struggled to his feet, the Colonel lunged forward with the Bible and slammed it into his chest.

Willoughby screamed in pain, "Rachel! The Moonstone!" before wilting away into nothingness.

Colonel Brandon jumped up and cheered, "Yippee kiyaaaah! You Mother…"

"Christopher, please!" scolded Marianne.

Recollecting himself, Brandon returned to his seat. "Sorry dear," he said sheepishly.

The referee, having witnessed the interference by the cheerleaders, grew angry. "Hey!" he screamed. "You can't help him like that! No weapons!"

"Says who?" challenged CK, suddenly feeling better now that Willoughby was gone.

"Says the rules that the Colonel agreed to in this contract," the referee yelled, pulling the agreement from his pocket.

"Let me see that," snapped CK, yanking it from the man's grasp. "This isn't a valid contract and my client doesn't have to abide by it." She then launched into a ten-minute explanation of the basic principles of contract law that was so boring, the referee, George Wickham, and half the crowd fell into a deep sleep.

As soon as she was done, Rachel whispered, "How long will the effects of the lecture last?"

"I'm not sure," responded CK. "My contracts professor was always able to put me under for a solid half hour, but this man is unaccustomed to boring legal theory. The spell might last indefinitely."

The Colonel, being faced with only two men, was feeling much better about the odds. He quickly removed his red coat and began waving it like a bullfighter. "Toro! Toro," he taunted.

John Thorpe, too dull to realize the risks, suddenly charged forward. As the Colonel agilely avoided his charge, Thorpe went flying head first into one of the polls holding up the ropes around the ring, and knocked himself out.

The Colonel then turned to his last opponent, Mr. Elliot (who managed to survive only because he never fought). "Well?" the Colonel asked menacingly.

"My uncle is a Baronet," squeaked Mr. Elliot.

"My father is an Earl!" declared the Colonel triumphantly.

Mr. Elliot then squeaked his apologies and ran away.

The crowd erupted in a frenzy cheering the Colonel. Streamers suddenly fell from the ceiling and a string quartet appeared to play a victory song. The great violinist, F. William D'Arcy, walked into the center of the ring, followed by another violinist, Liz Bennet, a cellist, Hilary, and a violist, Bčla.

"Doesn't that violist look awfully familiar?" asked CK.

"Who?" responded Rachel, while staring at the Colonel.

"That one," pointed CK. "The tall young man with light brown hair, a nobly arched nose, and a large, very ugly, black mustache… But somehow the viola looks odd in his hands. It's almost like he is accustomed to playing the violin instead."

"Hmm, not too bad looking, except for the mustache," answered Rachel, before turning her attention back to the Colonel.

"It looks like… but no, it can't be…" mumbled CK.

The quartet entered the ring and played a movement from Vivaldi's Four Seasons. The beautiful music had the crowd entranced and everyone stood silent and listened. As the quartet continued to play, CK couldn't help but notice that the cellist and the violist kept winking and smiling at each other. As she continued to stare at the violist, his mustache began to peel off, revealing the Bell of a man underneath.

As soon as the movement ended, all of the women surged forward to the ring to get near their hero. "I will not perform under such conditions and for such barbarians," sniffed F. William D'Arcy before marching away angrily.

As the rest of the quartet left the ring, CK rushed forward and assaulted Bčla. "How could you?" she cried.

"Because," he said eventually, "I didn't know you cared," then walked off with Hilary on his arm.

As CK watched them leave in stunned silence, Mr. Knightley walked by, escorting two women. On one arm was Emma and the other, Robyn.

Astonished, CK gasped, "Robyn?"

"Since you are going to do away with Emma, someone has to be near to comfort him," she whispered back before smiling at Mr. Knightley.

"I don't believe it," groaned CK before sinking to the floor. "What a day."

Rachel patted her on the back. "Cheer up old chum. Colonel Fitzwilliam kept his Stud Muffin crown so we can continue to chase him around the globe. Annie and Xenia have a pretty good head start on us, but we have so much practice, we'll find him first."

"Okay," mumbled CK. "What else is a girl to do?"

"I've got the passports," Rachel said cheerfully.

"And I've got the handcuffs…"

"So let's go!" Rachel cheered as CK rose to give her a high five.

The Colonel continued his flight around the globe, pursued by three times as many women after his show of strength and cunning in the ring. At night, he dreamed fitful dreams of dying on a battlefield in France or some other exotic locale. Anything would be more honourable than being chased to death by women. Yet, he knew it was not his fate to be so noble. He was saddled with the responsibility of being the stud of Pemberley and as long as the Republic continued to exist, he would be pursued by women.