Fred got a dreamy look in her eyes. "Ringo," she said.
Cordy pulled away from Fred's pussy, a look of confusion on her face. "Ringo?"
Fred sighed. "Ohhh, yesss," she hissed. "He's the best Beatle. I'd do anything for him."
"You've got to be kidding me. Beatlemania's like SOOOO 1964."
"BEATLEMANIA IS FOREVER!!!" Fred shrieked in rage. Cordy gaped at her, unable to believe the surrealist turn the conversation had taken.
"I like Wings," she said, trying to reestablish a link with her victim (remember, Cordy's evil in this universe). It wasn't the wisest thing to say. With an inarticulate roar Fred smashed the edges of her hands into Cordy's temples, stunning her.
"Fab work," said a voice with a strong Liverpudlian accent. Fred looked up to see a pony-tailed man in a pinstripe suit, a pair of sunglasses perched on his herculean nose.
"Thank you, Lord Ringo," Fred said, wishing it weren't so hard to curtsey when all you're wearing is a dazed demon on your crotch.
"We'll deal with this one now," said a bespectacled man with an identical accent.
Fred stared in awe -- it was indeed John Lennon. "Lord John -- I thought you were dead!"
Lennon waved his hand in an airy gesture of dismissal. "I faked me death back in 1980 so I could concentrate full-time on me demonology. And me painting. Songwriting's really just a hobby now."
Fred stared at the rock legends (and secret Directors General of the Watchers' Council) in awe. "It's so thrilling to meet you in person. It...." She blushed, then pushed on. "It would be a great honor if you let me suck your mighty Merseybeat Man-meat."
As John cast a binding spell on Cordelia, Ringo nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose. We might be able to turn this one, and you know what they say about reforming a demon." He paused, waiting for a set-up line. When none was forthcoming he shrugged and continued "all you need is love."
"Right," said Fred. |