Considering their offer for a good space of time, Ranma was tempted to take them up on their word. He had such a craving for KFC, the greatest food he’d ever known... yes, even better than Kasumi’s cooking!
But then reality sunk in, the harshness of why he had been so deprived of KFC since his childhood. “WAIT! You’re not going to fool me!” he declared! There are no more KFC’s!”
Both women and even the principal blinked their eyes once, twice. “...Excuse me? What ludicrousness is THAT!?” Bastet yelped. Boy, she’d heard Ranma was a rather blasphemous bastard but THIS took the cake!
Nodding his head firmly, the pigtailed martial artist replied, “Yeah! Pops said they all got torn down and there would be no more KFC for anyone!”
Sehkmet sat forward in her chair a little, looking into the youth’s eyes. “No they didn’t,” was her calm yet firm reply.
Blinking his eyes once, twice, Ranma couldn’t match the woman’s gaze... yet her words... in his heart and the hope within his soul, they rang truth. “...What?”
“I said, no they didn’t,” the Egyptian Goddess of War in human form replied once again. “Hell, there’s one right down the street. Bastet and I saw it as we walked over.”
“...What?” was the squeaked reply from a very shocked pigtailed martial artist.
Seeing a chance to make the bad keikei suffer, Principal Kuno chimed in with, “Indeed! Even da Big Kahuna go der ev’ry day for da lunchie-minchies!”
“...WHAT!?” Ranma screamed.
“Yeah, brutha. You just no be seein’ it cause you nevah be walkin’ dat way,” the principal of Furinkan High explained. “You always be comin’-n-goin’ de opposite direction!”
Ranma just blinked his eyes in shock. If he had just... kept walking past Furinkan... he would have found his fabled Manna from Heaven?
The Saotome youth looked up towards the ceiling. “...Why?” he asked silently. “Why do the Gods tease me like this?”
In a bar in Asgard—no, not the 5-Star bar, the 1-Star bar where the critic had been ambushed and violently mugged by starving roaches before being left for dead—a chaos cat sneezed, upsetting the homemade raft in the sink and setting back the roaches’ plan to escape their island.
“Oh there, there...” Bastet said as she reached a hand out, carefully patting the sobbing youth’s shoulder to comfort him. Slowly, her hand continued to gently caress and rub along the length of his arm, down to his hand...
“Hands above the belt, sister...” Sehkmet said firmly.
A pout came over the chocolate-skinned woman’s features. “Aww... but he needs comfort...” the younger of the two goddesses tried to protest.
“I need chicken!” Ranma countered, tears freely flowing as the only think he could think of was all the lost time he could have had scarfing down the food of the Colonel...
Hell, so deep in thought and depression was the pigtailed youth that he didn’t even notice the Principal licking at his face, lapping at his tears!
“Oh yes, dat be the GOOD stuff!” Principal Kuno moaned happily. “De suffering of de bad keikei rejuvenates dis brutha like nothin’ else!”
Looking over towards her sister, Bastet pouted. “How come he can lick Ranma and you said I’m not allowed to?”
Sehkment turned her sister’s head, focusing on the strange event. “You want to lick him like that?”
“...No, the way he’s doing it is just creepy,” Bastet muttered. Hell, the whole situation was just so wrong! It was supposed to be adult female teachers hitting on the students!
Not that she knew, what with Goddess Training Academy being segregated so that no such hanky-panky might happen. The one male God who might have been a relief valve for the student population turned out to be as straight as a planetary orbit.
Finally, the Principal’s harassment of the youth was brought to a screeching halt with a cry of...
“Shishi Höködan!”
Yes, Ranma was feeling more depressed than Ryoga ever had... the loss of chicken a greater horror than being denied breads from a shitty school cafeteria. It... it was true, unadulterated pain. He'd rather face the bowels of hell than have had to live his life without KFC!
Looking at the direction the man went flying and through the hole in the roof he made, Bastet whistled and held up a card that read [10]
Sehkmet settled for a less ass-kissing, [8.4]
Fortunately, before the green burst of depression chi could grow and even leave Ranma’s hands, likely with enough force to level the office/gym, a strange smell hit his nose, a smell he had not felt in a long time.
A smell he probably would have detected had he ever attended the girl’s gym class before... the smell of eleven secret herbs and spices, wafting through the air intake vent.
“What... what is...” Ranma looked at the hole the Principal made... and realize it was in the direction opposite the school. “Kah-KFC?” he whimpered with happiness, eyes shimmering with tears.
As if a holy scene had fallen upon him, a ray of light peeked out of the clouds, illuminating him like a spotlight, and a heavenly choir seemed to sing in the background.
“Sister, put away the iPad.”
“But Sehky, look at the scene!” Bastet cried.
“Well... I suppose I should be happy it was Heavenly Choir and not some rap music.”
The tune ended, leading into “Milkshake”, by Kelis.
“...Sorry. I have it on random,” the Egyptian Cat Goddess said in her defense.
Her eye twitching, Sehkmet grumbled as she crossed her arms over her chest. Shaking her head at her sister’s antics, she turned her attention back to the boy still staring at the roof. “Anyway, Ranma... are you ready for the best damned KFC of your mortal life?”
THAT comment brought the youth out of his reverie of memroeis. Nodding his head rapidly, the pigtailed martial artist replied, “Yes, I am ready for the best damned KFC of my life!”
And maybe a milkshake...
Sehkmet smiled. “Really damned?”
His head bobbing rapidly, the heir of the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts declared, “YES! The bestest, most damnedest KFC of my life!”
Grinning, the Egyptian War Goddess replied, “Very well...” she raised her hand and snapped her fingers...
Standing along a road paved with wiggling priests, nuns, and using some purple stuff for mortar that was likely good intentions, Ranma just looked about the all-encompassing fiery atmosphere, the deepest of black smoke billowing above him with what looked like dragons flying, their paths of flight managing to break up the smoke long enough to allow some illumination from magma to peek through; lava just flowing around here and there like water.
Just ahead of him and the two women was a wall of flaming brimstone, one that stood with an imposing presence thanks to the single entrance, currently comprised of blackened, wrought-iron spiked gates. Above these doors was the sign, [Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here.]
“...Maybe not this damned...” Ranma quietly whispered. Turning slowly, he looked at the Goddesses. “Um, we ain’t where Akane learned to cook, are we?”
“...No,” Sehkmet muttered.
Ranma considered this a bit more. “Church?”
Giving the youth an incredulous stare, Sehkmet just gawked at him for a long pause. “...Have you ever been to a church?”
“Once,” the raven-haired martial artist admitted. “But the priest tried talking to Pops, and then the Old Man dragged me away in the middle of the night, saying the priest wanted me to stay and do very bad things to me."
Sehkmet opened her mouth to respond... and closed it, looking to her sister.
Noticing her sister stare at her, Bastet asked, “What?”
“Check the Book,” was the older Goddess’ command.
“Why me?”
“Because you have it in your back pocket.”
“...Oh! Well, that explains why my hips weren’t feeling hugged,” Bastet responded, pulling out the small book, enlarging it, and checking several entries. “Nope, just some priest who wanted to put Ranma in a loving and sane home.”
“Ah,” Sehkmet said. She then turned back to the human and explained, “No Ranma, that was just your father, Genma Saotome, being a greedy fat ass...”
“Someone mention Genma Saotome’s greedy fat ass?” questioned a Demon Fourth Class working on an open sewage line just outside the gates and over to the left. “I can’t wait for him to get down here so I can turn it into a fancy... hat...” the blue-skinned being trailed off, staring at the pigtail youth with a look of horror on his face. “UNHOLY SHIT! You’re here!? How long was I working on this busted pipe!?”
He had better get overtime!
“...Huh?" asked a very confused Ranma.
“Hold on, just gimme a second. Gotta get cleaned up," the demon muttered, before opening a box... and pulling out a Prinny.
“What are those for?” asked Bastet.
The demon smirked. “We stuff ‘em with the souls of suicide bombers. Besides,” he stated, before exploding the Prinny. “Don’t you know fire cleans the best?”
Sure enough, as the smoke cleared—and if you ignored the fanatical mutterings of the now exploded Prinny—the demon was as clean as... well, something that had never been in the sewers of Hell.
“Now, I got a copy of the contract right here,” he replied, hoping this didn’t bite him in his two asses. He sat down and started flipping through pages.
As the demon looked over paperwork, Bastet and Sehkmet each put a hand on one of the boy’s shoulders. “It was nice meeting you,” the eldest of the two sisters spoke. “But if you’ll excuse us, we need to get going. KFC waits for no mortal, god, or demon...”
“Wait!” the lesser demon shouted, looking up from his union papers. “At least let me know how he died! I want to know if I won the betting pool or not!” Oh please, please Hild! Let it be the boy imploded from one of Akane Tendo’s concoctions with enough force to vacuum-inhale and particle crush the Furinkan section of the Nerima Ward, leaving only a black-hole crater! He had four-hundred gold coins riding on that as the eventual outcome!
“He’s not dead yet,” Sehkmet replied.
“...He’s not?” asked the surprised demon. “Then what in Tartarus is he doing here!?”
“KFC!” Ranma cried in joy.
The demon just blinked his three eyes. “You dragged him all the way to The Pits... for fried chicken!?”
“Oh course!” chirped Bastet. “This is the only one that still makes it with trans-fats!”
The demon was quiet for a long time. “......Okay, you got me there...” the triclops finally replied. “Considering such is both illegal on heaven ands earth, it only makes sense that the cooking oils which are so good they’re sinful can only still be found and used down here...” he smirked. “I mean, Here-damn! It makes a good deodorant and toothpaste too!”
“...KFC?” Ranma asked happily, eyes shimmering in hopes of tasty trans-fats. Now that he thought about it... he COULD smell the chicken—faint as it was—amidst the burning human flesh and brimstone.
“Yes, Ranma... KFC...” the two goddesses then lead Ranma through the gates, cutting their way ahead of the line of damned souls—it’s rather easy when they’re still incorporeal—and going straight to the boat docked at the River Styx. “Bastet, pay the man.”
“Me!?” the Egyptian Moon Goddess of Cats and Sex shrieked. “I paid Charon the LAST time we came down here!”
“Yes, but you’re also the only one that carries gold...” Sehkmet explained.
Grumbling the Cat Goddess let go of Ranma’s shoulder and took three bracelets off her wrist left. “Hey, Bone Bag! Is this enough gold for safe passage across and back from the River Styx?”
The robed skeleton looked the bracelets up and down. “...Add your panties and we have a deal...” the Boatman and Third-Cousin Twice Removed to the Grim Reaper replied.
Pouting cutely, the Cat Goddess whined. “But... I’m not wearing any!”
Smirking suddenly as a thought occurred to her, Bastet put her finger tips on either side of her dress pants. “Wanna see?”
Charon just slowly nodded, glad that his skeleton visage gave him the ultimate poker face, otherwise he’d be grinning ear-to-ear right now. Finally, after all those years of old biddies, corpses, fat men, and starved models, he might finally see some Grade A++ chocolate booty and vajayjay!
But then the Egyptian Sun Goddess of War dashed his hopes and dreams. “Bastet, just give him three more of your gold bracelets,” Sehkmet said seriously.
“Awww...” Bastet whined. “But I wanted to show off!” It wasn’t like a skeleton could do anything to her and this was a chance to show off to Ranma!
“Hey! Maybe I want just three gold bracelets and a peek at a hot goddess!” Charon shouted irritably.
The woman turned to glare at Boatman of the River Styx. “Maybe...” Sehkmet continued. “You want to get your boney ass kicked by an Egyptian Goddess of War and Hunting?”
“......Welcome aboard the I.H.I.S. Soul-Eater!” the skeletal oar-man happily chimed. “I am your Captain, the Boatman Charon, here to take you on a lovely cruise back and forth along the River Styx. Please keep your hands and arms inside the boat at all times, lest you become part of said river of lost souls.”
Reaching out, the Goddess Lioness in human guise pat the side of Charon’s skull as one would patting someone’s cheek. “Good man,” Sehkmet said as she stepped on, leading Ranma aboard with her.
As the three entered the boat, Ranma looked about a bit weary. His worries increased as the boat sunk into the water, nearly allowing said river to spill into the boat.
“Ladies,” Charon muttered. “Not calling attention to anything, but the boat’s not used to beings other than souls.”
The younger goddess glared at the boatman. “Are you calling us fat?” growled Bastet, nearly scaring Ranma into the river with her angry cat-like sound.
“I’m just saying the boat usually only holds myself and souls... and that one idiot Greek a few thousand years ago...”
Rolling her eyes, Sehkmet said, “Sister, just cast a small lightning charm on the boat before we have to rescue our possible Avatar from the idiots in the river.”
“Oh please... how bad could such stupid idiots be?” Bastet asked... before letting out a yelp as the boat shook from a heavy impact.
All turned to see a hand rise up, grasping the side. Then came another, both pulling a man into view, one with a thick beard and blue polo-shirt.
“HI! BILLY MAYS HERE! Are you tired of lost souls clinging to the sides of your boat and leaving residue of their evil and/or stupidity behind once you knock them off? Well, now you can knock off that stubborn soul-tar with... OXI-CLEAN!”
“...One lightning charm, coming up!” Bastet was quick to reply as she set to work.
As the boat was steered down the river—and for once, not taking joy in the tortured cries of the souls who got poked with the staff of Charon—the tricloptic demon looked down at his contract... and sighed. “Great, now I gotta go see a lawyer about my contract,” he growled. If Saotome was in hell, it could invalidate a great many contracts on his soul.
But on the bright side, the lawyers were all gathered in one section of Hell, and when this news hit the fan...
The suffering...
The pain...
The legal fees he would not be paying!
Whistling a merry tune—one that sounded more like the wailing of damned souls than the damned souls did—he removed his hat and set off for a small walk around the Lake of Fire, past the Forest of Red Tape, to deliver the news. “You know, after this, I might just stop for some KFC. I have a craving for it, for some reason.”
It was a long time to sail, as the river was a very wide stretch, what with more souls being added every day... but finally, Charon’s boat came to dock on the opposite shore. “All ashore that’s going ashore!” he called out dramatically.
“...Don’t quit your day job,” Sehkmet replied as she stepped off the boat with the others.
Looking at them as they walked away, the Boatman shouted after them, “What? No tip!?”
“Get a better boat!” the War Goddess bellowed out.
“And you got something trying to crawl in!” cried Bastet, both she and her sister leading Ranma away.
Blinking—or would be if he had eyelids—the Boatman looked down.
“Do you know you may have already won ten millions dollars through—ACK!”
“Damn celebrities, always so clingy,” Charon muttered in annoyance before hopping onto the dock. Now where did he leave his favorite poking stick/hull scrubber?
As the two goddesses lead him down the path into hell, Ranma looked about, getting a view of what the damned had to suffer through. “You know... this kinda ain’t too bad...” he mumbled curiously.
“That’s because we’re only on the first level of hell,” Sehkmet answered. “Formerly just where unbaptized babies used to go until the Church and Heavens decided that such was too harsh and unfair for something innocents had no control over, this is now where all the “assholes” of life that don’t deserve outright infernal punishment for all eternity end up. Trust me when I say levels two and beyond are a lot, LOT worse...”
“So, Pops is going to end up here...” Ranma commented. It wasn’t a question.
“No, more along the lines of Level Three if I'm not mistaken... where all the overly gluttonous end up...” Sehkmet replied. “But no worries about that... we’re on the first level, just past the gates... where most demons live as they do their daily jobs, commuting back and forth between hell and earth...”
“Think of Level One as an Infernal New Jersey...” Bastet tried to explain. “Except here, the locals call it, “New Hild”.”
“...Wow,” he replied. He never knew Hell was like... well, what television described as an urban lifestyle.
Although, he was somewhat confused when he saw a Hybrid among all the SUVs with a bumper sticker that said, “Stop Makai Cooling”. When he pointed it out, Bastet merely mumbled about drugs being bad for the wrong beings.
Taking a deep breath, the Egyptian Cat Goddess mumbled aloud, “Anyway... as... odd as this place may seem, this is as, and I use the term loosely, ‘good’ as hell gets... just stick with us and if anyone asks if you want to see something ‘cool’ or ‘neat’, say no.”
“Right...” Ranma agreed. He looked around a bit, wondering, “Now, where is this KFC?”
“Almost there...” Sehkmet replied. “We just need to get past Pandemonium Ave and Holocaust Boulevard... from there, we need to take a right off of Sesame Street and we’ll see the restaurant and parking lot taking up the entire left side of Tartarus Way.”
“Oh!” Bastet paused in her walk. “Can we stop by Sesame Street for a moment? I want to lick Big Bird!”
Sehkmet gave her sister a side-ways glance. “Now Bastet, we’re getting KFC. Don’t spoil your appetite...”
Looking back and forth around, the area, the martial artist paused as something caught his attention. “Hey! What’s down there?” Ranma asked, pointing down one street.
“...You don’t want to go down Diagon Alley,” Bastet said in an angry voice. “That way, leads to the Dark Side.”
Ranma blinked his eyes once, twice. “...Of the Force?”
The Egyptian Cat Goddess shook her head firmly. “No, that of the alternative-lifestyle club,” she then proceeded to mutter about idiot wizards and mis-portrayals of catgirls.
The elder of the two goddess notice the mortal youth turn his attention to her. “My sister just has issues with magic-capable souls who live in plot-holes,” Sehkmet offered.
“CATGIRLS SHOULD BE HOT!” Bastet then yelled down said alley. “BLASPHEMORS!”
After a moment more of Bastet cussing, the two goddesses lead Ranma through the throngs of Demons and Devils walking about, workings and just going about their daily lives. Boy, if this was hell, then why was Ryoga always bitching about it to him? Whiny pork-butted bastard...
However, pork was soon off his mind and replaced with, “Chicken...”
The raven-haired martial artist could only stand in the spot he stood, eyes wide with awe as the two brought him to the front of KFC... it was like a castle, larger than the Kuno Estate! Walls of red and white stood tall and with presence, images of the Colonel everywhere—even one very tall and highly detailed statue in the center of the parking lot!
“It...” Ranma sniffled. “It’s heaven!”
A demon looked up from his newspaper and towards the Asian youth. “...Heaven? Boy, what are you smoking and where can I score some?”
As Ranma continued to cry in joy—and the demon kept pestering him for his stash—the two Goddesses were pantomiming to each other. Sehkmet was telling her sister to hit Ranma with the cure for his Neko-Ken-induced fear now, while he was distracted, as she knew some of the succubae who served the customers inside were notorious furry fetish masters.
Bastet just blinked, wondering why her sister was asking her to steal Third and fake the punt for an extra chance at the goal.
Sehkmet sighed and made a few more motions, trying to get her point across without alerting the mortal.
Tilting her head, Bastet wondered why the hell Sehkmet wanted to do the Macarena on top of the Empire State Building during the Winter Olympics. She pantomimed back a question if they could wait for the Summer Games.
Her left eye twitching, the Lioness War Goddess began flailing her arms in exasperation.
Watching the odd movements of the dark-skinned women, the demon could only whistle. “Uh, guy... I think your ladies have been into your stash longer than could possibly be healthy...”
Blinking, Ranma turned towards Bastet—who was now signaling to whack Vinne the Crier with a Nerf bat.
Sighing at once again, having to do things herself, Sehkmet took off her gauntlet and replaced it with a golden, glowing glove, and proceeded to—
*WHACK*!
As Ranma groaned from the ground, finding out the good intentions tasted like cigarette butts, Sehkmet merely shook her head. The boy had obviously lacked a lot of common sense for the Glove of the School of Hard Knocks to have hit him so hard, imparting the undeniable knowledge to him that he was bigger and tougher than any housecat out there, so he should not be afraid of them.
“O~oooh... that’s what you meant,” Bastet replied, looking down at the groaning martial artist. “I was wondering why you were asking me to revive Disco Duck.”
“Disco Duck?” the demon asked. “Why would that need to be revived? The local disco is thriving down here...”
“...I somehow always knew Disco was an invention of the devil,” Sehkmet muttered to herself as she put away the Glove of Knowledge.
Tapping her chin in thought, Bastet mumbled, “I wonder if John Travolta will be a king when he comes down here...” that is, if his place in Scientology didn’t get him abducted by some Grays when he finally passed on.
“...A little help... please?” Ranma whimpered from his place on the ground. As no assistance came right away, the heir of the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts slowly pulled himself off the ground. No, he would not be stopped! He could smell it, hear the chicken calling to him. No pain would stop him from opening those doors and experiencing the greasy heart-clotting goodness once again. The joy wouldn’t even be second to the pleasure he would take in smacking his Old Man around for lying to him about the mana from the bearded man being gone forever.
Forcing himself off the ground completely, Ranma suddenly lunged into a sprint. “FOR CHICKEN!” was his battle-cry as he lunged across the parking lot towards the wonderful restaurant of promises of happiness and wonderment.
“Wuh!? Hey! Ranma! Slow down!” Bastet called after him. “SLOW DOWN!” Damn it, she could not run in high-heels!
But it was too late. Upon reaching the entrance, Ranma slammed open the doors... and simply stared in awe and amazement. Buffet bars as far as the eye could see, clean booths, and people to bring you more of the piles of chicken, so you didn’t have to clean the grease off your fingers to hold the plate, let alone the tongs.
Okay, being served by half-naked women with wings sticking out from odd places did give him pause, but that didn’t matter. He could hear the heavenly choir once more.
“Sister, put the iPad away before I take it from you. Can’t you see the demons hate that music?”
“Well, I hate how every other country song on the radios makes me want to take my own life, but you don’t see me bitching.”
“Yes, I do...” the older of the two goddesses argued. Every damned time...”
“Well... I don’t wanna, so there!” she replied, blowing her sister a raspberry and shoving Ranma through the door.
Ranma was brought out of his reverie of holy grease by the shove. He rubbed his back as he noticed a woman with furry wings with a pelt pattern that matched that of her ears and tails... and realized they were very much like a cat’s.
“I knew those furry little demons were hellspawn,” he muttered to himself, proud that he was finally being validated. “I just knew it...”
The succubus of feline persuasion chose to ignore the mortal’s words. “A~hem,” the catgirl-succubus spoke up. “Hi there! I’m Kitty! Welcome to the New Hild Kentucky Fried Chicken. I’ll be your waitress today. Would you like a table in our smoking or fiery pit section?”
The youth’s eyes widened like a pair of dinner plates. “Smoking as in smoked chicken?” Ranma asked, awe evident in his voice. Could they have actually found a way to put even more flavor into the already perfect chicken!?
“Visiting section,” Sehkmet replied before the youth could. No sense in wasting their dwindling power to resurrect him. Of course, that was also assuming they could get him out of there before the succubae latched onto him like parasites on a shark, discovering his aura leaked more soul energy than they usually drained from a hard-up mortal on a good night.
A pretty and rather sensuous smile came over the bat-winged girl’s featured. “Right this way,” Kitty replied and she spread her wings and flapped, lifting herself off the ground and flying towards the buffet.
Ranma, for once, was quick to follow after some fine female booty... after all, this booty meant he’d receive chicken from the great...
The great...
...
“...Kami-sama...” Ranma whispered as he paused in his tracks, catching sight of the most holy individual. Chubby with a belly like a bowl full of jelly... rosy cheeks with a sunny smile... a white beard like a fresh blanket of snow that gave him presence and prestige... and of course, that wonderful, recognizable—and trademarked—outfit... it... it could only be...
“SANTA CLAUS!!” Ranma wailed as he tackled the Southern gentleman to the ground. “Oh, I do believe in Santa! I do believe in Santa! I belie~eeeeeve!”
“Ranma!!" Sehkmet gasped in shock. “Stop assaulting the Colonel!”
From his place on the floor of his restaurant, said man just glared up, particularly at Bastet. “And how does he know?” the man growled out.
Sweat started to pour down the Egyptian Goddess’ brow, Bastet waved her hands in a warding gesture as she nervously answered, “No one told him!” Then, in panic, she shouted, “And it’s not like you aren’t doing much to hide it!”
His eyes glowing with might and power that rivaled most gods, the Colonel of Kentucky bellowed, “We had a deal!”
“And I kept it!” Bastet wailed. “Everyone thinks it was some alien crash in the US, not your magic flying reindeer-pulled sleigh, crashing because someone fed them your chicken and their little hearts couldn’t take it!”
“...And if the mortal had been paying attention, he would have learned the truth just now,” Sehkmet muttered.
“...Oops...” Bastet whispered.
Fortunately for her, Ranma had NOT been paying attention. Instead, he was now sitting on the old man’s lap. “And I’d like a Bucket of Original Recipe... and a Bucket of Extra Crispy... and three orders of Crispy Strips... a whole bunch of boxes of Popcorn Chicken... and I’d like to try those things that are called “Double Downs”...”
Blinking his eyes once, twice, Colonel Sanders asked, “Boy, why are you giving me your order? We have very fine waitresses for that.”
“And I’d like—order?” the pigtailed martial artist asked in surprise. “I was giving you my Christmas list...”
Sanders just visibly twitched. “Boy, give the waitress your order. I don’t do Christmas lists.”
A look of heart-break came over the Asian youth’s face. “But... but I’ve been good all year!” Ranma whined.
“Ranma, that is Colonel Sanders, the icon of KFC,” Sehkmet stated, trying to salvage their agreement—she still wasn't certain where her sister had gotten the Grays for the last agreement, and was not in any hurry to find out. “Does he look like Santa Claus?”
“Yes,” Ranma replied.
“He does not,” Sehkmet told him firmly.
“Does too!” the youth said vehemently.
“Does not,” Sehkmet replied once more, a growl to her voice.
“Does too!”
“Does not!”
“Does too!”
“Does not!”
“Does—”
“Excuse me,” the succubus with tiger-patterned ears, tail and wings spoke up. “But your table is ready.”
“...CHICKEN!” Ranma shouted with joy. He gave the old man one more tight hug before rushing off so he could be seated and start feasting!
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(Posted Fri, 07 Jan 2011 19:04)
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