First Entrance

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

A tiny poof of ... smoke? mist? ... appears on the bartop. It resolves into a perfect three-inch-tall replica of one of the Milliways tables, with two chairs to scale.

In one of said chairs comes an even smaller poof of white cloud, dissipating to reveal a tiny white-robed figure with little feathery white wings, a halo, and a golden harp roughly the size of a Sacajawea dollar (circa early 21st century America).

In the other, almost simultaneously, comes a poof of flame, dissipating to reveal ... a tiny red-jumpsuited figure with little spiky red wings, horns, and a pitchfork that an ordinary human-sized patron might easily mistake for a salad fork if it weren't barbed.

Both of them are looking around in startlement. The red-clad one gives a short, dry laugh.

"What are the odds?"

Comments

[its-a-robe.livejournal.com]

Oh-ho, not so fast, there.

The white-clad one takes one look at his companion and *poofs* upward to stand on Oats' shoulder.

He shoots a triumphant look down at the table.

[holy-oats.livejournal.com]

Oats starts, glancing to his shoulder in alarm.

All he can think is, But not even *one* of him could fit on the head of a pin!

"Um, er ... can I ... help you?"

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

Depends on the size of the pin.

The red-clad one *poofs* out of the chair and onto Oats's other shoulder before the other can answer.

"I think the question is, big guy, if I can help you."

A pause, then hastily: "And the answer is totally yes. Don't listen to that other guy."

[its-a-robe.livejournal.com]

Disdainful: "If you want to be helped into the clutches of evil, then yes, certainly, by all means, listen to him. I wouldn't call that helping."

[holy-oats.livejournal.com]

Oats looks apologetically to the helium-voiced one.

"I'm afraid that the clutches of evil are something I strive to avoid."

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

The red-clad one makes a scoffing noise. "See? That's why your life is so pathetic. You're avoiding everything fun."

[its-a-robe.livejournal.com]

"Good for you," says the white-clad one, pointedly ignoring his companion as he gives Oats a proud smile. He pats his cheek. "Keep it up."

Man, this one's easy.

[holy-oats.livejournal.com]

Oats is a little discomfited by the cheek-patting.

"Er ..."

He looks to the red fellow-- already he can feel his neck protesting-- with a look of damp indignation.

"The wicked use the guise of 'fun' to lure the unsuspecting down their foul road."

Unfortunately, he doesn't have much of a comeback where the pathetic nature of his life is concerned.

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

"It's not foul," the red one protests. "It's the Path That ROCKS!"

[its-a-robe.livejournal.com]

The white one rolls his eyes.

"Don't you have anything better to say about it?"

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

"It's better than your sissy Path of Righteousness," the red one shoots back.

"Besides ... look what I can do."

He hops off Oats's shoulder and performs ... a one-handed handstand. On the bartop.

[its-a-robe.livejournal.com]

Oh, no. Not this.

The white one's shoulders slump, defeated. He can never top the one-armed handstand.

[holy-oats.livejournal.com]

There's really only so righteously that one can condemn a tiny acrobatic man. Oats frowns down at him guiltily.

"Er. Very ... impressive."

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

The red one flips to his feet and poses, grinning smugly.

[its-a-robe.livejournal.com]

"But don't, uh...don't be deceived by his...um...."

Yeah, he's got nothin'.

Siiigh.

[holy-oats.livejournal.com]

"... Handsprings?" Oats suggests weakly.

[its-a-robe.livejournal.com]

"No, I think it's more of a handstand," he says, still eyeing Ralph consideringly.

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

Ralph *poofs* back onto Oats's shoulder.

"I trust I've made my point," he says smugly.

[holy-oats.livejournal.com]

Oats looks beseechingly at the tiny angel. Finding him to be of no immediate help, he turns his gaze back to Ralph.

"Well, er.

"I must admit to some confusion as to, ah, exactly how gymnastics relate to the choice between good and evil."

[its-a-robe.livejournal.com]

"But it's a good point," the white one protests, if reluctantly.

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

"Because evil is cooler," the red one explains.

[holy-oats.livejournal.com]

Oats falters.

"I suppose it is a compelling argument ..."

Don't be daft! It's idiotic! What has it got to do with *anything*?

Back in Omnia, it was usually at this point in a theological debate that Oats would begin to converse with himself.

[its-a-robe.livejournal.com]

We're losing him! Mayday! Mayday!

The white one propels its little arms. The harp twangs. "But don't listen to it anyway!" he shouts.

[path-that-rocks.livejournal.com]

"Come on," says the red one persuasively. "Do you wanna be pathetic your whole life?"

[holy-oats.livejournal.com]

The young priest glances back and forth between the two of them, faint panic in his eyes.

Well, I'd rather not be pathetic my *whole* life ...

No, no! That's pathetic in the eyes of the *world*! What about the eyes of Om?

All right, all right, get ahold of yourself.

... Why can't they just go away?

"Thank you," he says to the devil, stiffly and politely, "but your services ... really will not be required at this juncture.

"Or any other," he adds hastily.