Posted on Monday, 22 June 1998

"I hate Emma Woodhouse!" Jane Fairfax's screams echoed through the empty house. Her husband, Mr. Frank Churchill, looked at her oddly.

"Why is that, my dear?" He was reading a new periodical entitled Cameron Diaz, and it was rather interesting. When she didn't answer, he rolled over and closed his eyes. In his mind's eye, he could see a huge, intergalactic battle. Frank almost fell asleep imagining this glorious scene, complete with a strange girl plaintively calling Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope!

However, sleep and Frank did not agree on that day as his wife kept ranting. "What doesn't she get? Michael Douglas, Ethan Hawke, David Schwimmer, Brad Pitt... It just isn't fair!" Jane stamped her foot angrily.

"How about a death match, dear?" Frank didn't really think his wife heard him, but evidently, she did. All at once they were transported to a sort of sports arena, and she stood facing Emma Knightley, who looked confused and disoriented.

An improperly attired man stood in the ring. "I want a good clean fight here, ladies! No biting, no busted bras, and no conspiring with lovers to kill your husband. Let's get it on!"

Emma stared at Jane. "Mrs. Churchill, I don't know what you're doing!" Knightley poked his head over the wires of the mat. "Emmmmmmaaaaaaa! Try to be nice for once!"

"Shut up, bug boy! Go back and play on the Internet or something," Jane screamed, intelligibly. "Where is my audience? Nobody is here!"

At her call, people began arriving. The Darcys and Bingleys made an appearance, just to see another Deathmatch.

"Go Emma!" Elizabeth called, cheering on her friend. Emma turned to give Elizabeth a thumbs up sign. Caroline Bingley arrived just at this moment, tossed an evil look at Elizabeth, who promptly began quacking.

"Oh, grow up," Darcy yelled, and Caroline promptly began getting sick and withered in the chair. Emma felt a strong pain, like she was losing a childhood friend. *

"For gosh sakes," Jane Fairfax grumbled, clapping her hands. "Where's Tinkerbell when you need her? I'm sick of this, Emma! Let's fight, do you think that's at all possible? I've wanted to kill you. First you insult my Aunt Bates...."

"She talks too much," Emma growled.

"Emmmmmaaaaaaaa!" Knightley was shushed by a guacamole tortilla thrown by Jane Bingley.

"Hey," she said, by way of explanation, "I want to see a fight!" Her husband Charles nodded in agreement.

"My aunt talks too much? So what! You tried to get on my husband!" Emma looked aghast, and threw a pot of hot gruel at Jane.

Jane wiped the gruel off her face. "Light saber?" Frank looked surprised, but tossed one up anyway.

"Aha!" Jane brandished the light saber, but it wasn't on, so she threw it at Emma. Emma frowned. "Miscellaneous severed head?"

Brad Pitt gladly handed her the head he had saved. "It's all yours," he called, and Emma launched it at Jane. Jane angrily wiped off the brains that had mysteriously splattered over her shirt.

Digging around in her bag, Emma came up with the ultimate weapon. "I hope you have great expectations of this fight, Jane," she said evilly, and brandished a huge box-office bomb, "because you're going down!"

She launched that at Jane, who promptly exploded. Elizabeth Bennet restrained Sandy the Dog from licking up the remains, as dogs are wont to do. The wall on the far side of the arena seemed to waver, and a scared Fitzie ran across the mat. "They're after me! Help, Fwood! Help!" He rapidly changed into another disguise and kept running.

"He can't," a patient Mr. Elton said, "He's the king of the Weenies, remember?" Mr. Elton was quite happy at the moment, dreaming of Lisa Kudrow in a back brace and a giant notebook for... Not studious reasons. ^

"Oooh, I punched him!" A cry went up from the audience as Elinor Dashwood (Ferrars) stared at Caroline Bingley in shock. Edward Ferrars had a huge black eye, and he tried to stutter out a rebuttal, but couldn't.

"You giant Gatorade bottle!" Elinor fumed almost enough to get rid of her English accent.

Caroline gasped. "I challenge all of you to a Deathmatch!"

"All of us?" The entire audience chorused, shocked.

"All of you."

...To Be Continued.... Maybe....