Chapter two, In Which Daroga in Called Names and Erik Has Fashion Problems

Disclaimer: I do not own Cyrano, The princess bride, Joseph, or Narnia.

Author's note: If you like Incognito Mosquito, please review! I LOVE IT!

Erik leapt clumsily into the grimy lake-waters, (a pool of water made up of rain-drainage and raw sewage,) and began his traditional "snorkeling". He approached the black shape of the boat, (a beautiful Romanian gondola made of pure ebony,) and he pulled himself onto the prow.

"Gah! Erik!" Daroga cried, almost falling out of the dangerously swaying boat.

"You!" Erik snarled, "What the Hl are you doing here you stupid, ugly, fat, nomad!"

"Erik?" Daroga asked. His friend/enemy was acting strange. Oh, he was ALWAYS a bit of a bear, but never before had he been so immature as to resort to kindergarten name calling!

"My name… is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die!" Erik laughed, pulling his pistol from his coat pocket. He aimed at Daroga's head and pulled the trigger. As you might have guessed, nothing happened. A gun can not work if the powder is wet.

"Your name is what?" asked the befuddled Persian.

"Um… I forgot. Oh! I'm Count Olaf." Erik replied. He pulled his emaciated frame into the boat and slumped into a rag-doll pose.

"Hmmmm." Daroga rubbed his chin. He leaned close to Erik's face and sniffed. "Bleah!" He almost vomited. The stench of alcohol was nearly unbearable.

"What was that for?" Erik demanded.

"YOU'VE been DRINKING!" Daroga accused.

"You were sticking you Cyrano proboscis in my personal space! I'm telling!"

"Telling what?" Daroga asked.

"Mmmmmmmoooooooooooommmmmmmmmmm!" Erik cried.

"Erik, man!" Daroga shouted, slapping the drunk a few times in the face, "Put yourself together!"

"GET OFF OF MY BOAT!" Erik screamed, shoving the poor Persian into the water.

"Erik!"

"I need towels! I'm cold and wet and chilled and damp and cold and wet and wet and cold and…" Erik continued like that as he paddled toward his home.

"I NEED TOWERELS!" He thundered.

"Shut up and get them yourself, big boy." Aysha meowed.

Erik staggered about and finally fell on top of a collection of rare, medieval tapestries, (estimated value 90000000000000007712837137671371573575765.99, the last final clue to unraveling the mystery of King Author.) "TOWERELS!" Erik squealed.

If you have never seen a yellow skinned, emaciated, overly tall man wrapped in ancient tapestries and dripping with dirty water don't go and try to find one. It's not a pretty site!

"Ok, now I go and visit my Christine!" Erik sang, "Hmmm, but something seems to be missing…."

"Your clothes you idiot!" Aysha yelled. She new that it was against cat code to speak human, (it might ruin their plan of taking over the world and enslaving all mankind,) however she LIKED Erik and could not let him do something so stupid as go to see his lady love in his underpants and an antique.

"Oh! Clotherings!" Erik burbled. He wandered toward his wardrobe, (rosewood, Elizabethan import.) "Narnia." He laughed as he opened the doors.

He rapidity began to throw various spiffy outfits onto the floor. "No, no, no." he said at each. "Ah-ha!" he finally cried. He pulled out his Red Death, (a character from Edgar Allen Poe,) pants. He slipped into them and admired himself. "How do I look, Aysha?"

"Great." The cat answered sarcastically, "The sequins on the sides really compete the whole high-school band effect."

Erik then pulled out a shirt made entirely of lace frills, "Raoul shirt." He laughed, putting it on.

He still could have saved the outfit had he tried. There was a snazzy Matrix coat that went well with everything. But, alas! Erik choose a neon coat instead of a Neo one! He chose a bight blue, Asian styled, peacock covered robed. "Joseph!" he cried, "Now I can go see Christine!"

"Looser." Aysha sniffed.