TMPD President Meets Mikey

Sitting back in the cluttered corner of the family room, Rosaline stared at the computer screen as she waited for the hotmail page to load. "Geez, another devotee? This is starting to get out of control. I need to get a life."

She clicked to save the new addresses and then emailed the confirmation letter along with the accompanying pictures. She gave a heaving sigh and hopped over the baby gate that cut the desk area off from her 16-month-old nephew's grabby fingers. Shuffling into the kitchen she made a mental note to make sure she took showers before noon so she wouldn't feel like such a bum. She mechanically started a new pot of coffee and then went to take a shower.

Feeling rather refreshed, Rosaline went back and checked out the Message Board again. Chuckling at Shirleym's mission pants theme song; she almost missed the doorbell. "Must be a salesman...nobody ever comes to the front door."

Tripping over the baby gate once more, Rosaline did a dancing shuffle toward the door while singing. "Lollypop, lollypop, oh lolly lolly lolly lollypop, lollypop oh lolly lolly lolly Lollypop" {POP} She opened the door with a smile and then stopped short.

"I'm looking for Rosaline." Husky and French accented; she almost dropped to the floor with a THUD at the sound of it. Then she recalled what she had recently been writing about and started to get a little worried.

"Uh, technically there isn't anyone here by that name." Oh thank you God for giving me the good sense to put on some descent clothes, she thought. In a short, red dress and high-heeled tennies, she was at least presentable.

"May I come in?"

Hmm she thought, sounded more like I'm coming in whether you like it or not. "Sure. Would you like some coffee or something?"

"No, thank you."

Ah, Mikey, ever the polite one.

"This would be the Rosaline that is the 'self-appointed president' of," he gave a disgusted face - odd because it was just a feeling she got, not really a change in expression - "The Mission Pants Devotees."

"Oh, well then, I guess you're looking for me."

He gave her a once over that made her squirm just a tad. "I thought you'd be older."

"I thought you'd be taller," she said, a little peeved.

"Look, I came here to ask you to stop writing about TMP."

"I can't do that," she looked horrified.

"Why not?"

"Because, I have, like, 40 people that are in the group now. I can't just quit on them."

Michael turned to the couch and sat down with a defeated sigh. "But you have to! Do you know how much flack I get from the guys in Section? It's bad enough that I can't get Helga to stop shrinking my Mission Pants, but then you have to write about them."

Rosaline, with eyes wide, stared at the distinctly pouting lower lip of her favorite Spyguy.

She said the first thing that popped into her mind. "Who's Helga?"

Dejectedly Michael said, "She's my cleaning lady. She's always shrinking my pants."

Thank you Helga, she thought.

"You just have to stop writing about my pants! I can't take it anymore! Walter and Birkoff won't leave it alone. Just yesterday Walter made a comment about me having an extra pair of socks hidden away -"

"Do you?" This could change everything.

"Of course not!" He said indignantly.

Rosaline smiled. Just a little defensive about that wasn't he?

"Will you stop writing, or not?"

"Look, you know that I just adore you. I am a DOM and of course a MPD. But, I can't stop writing about your mission pants. So, to quote you..." she leaned down, close to his face, "Get over it."

"All right. You leave me no choice." Michael stood up and turned away from her, unbuttoning his coat.

"What do you me..." Rosaline was stopped dead by the sight in front of her.

As he turned around, she could see that he was wearing THE Mission Pants! Not only that, but he had a gun {GULP} strapped to his thigh. Reaching up, he pulled the top half of his hair into a small ponytail.

"HKM," she whispered reverently.

Michael swaggered forward and reached out to touch her cheek. "Could you please not write about the mission pants anymore?"

THUD. Rosaline never answered.

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