Spuffy vs. Zombies
Confession: I’ve never posted here before, but at 5 am this idea struck me and I just… couldn’t let it go. I’m so sorry…
Title: He’s An Excellent Dancer
Author: KnifeEdgeFic
Prompt: Spuffy vs. Zombies (“vs.” is ENTIRELY tongue-in-cheek here)
Rating: G
Genre: Comedy/Fluff
Time Period: A totally AU Post-Series, in which reunions have come and gone spuffily and the Comics Never Happened-lalala-Ican'thearyou
He’s An Excellent Dancer
Buffy decides the minute she walks in that there must be a rule: all Hellmouths everywhere, must have a Bronze. Or something like it, anyway. Cleveland’s version is called the Breeze. B’s and Z’s, she thinks, and sips her fruity drink as she scans the crowd.
On a normal night the club is usually packed with college coeds and high schoolers desperate to get their cool on, as well as a random sampling of the things that go bump in the night. Tonight the bumpies are out in force, but they’re mostly of the greasepaint and cheap spandex variety. Halloween has brought out the monster in everyone.
Speaking of monsters, there’s at least one here and she’s in the mood for a dance. Unfortunately he’d refused to tell her what he was coming as. Every time she’d asked his face had screwed up in a snarl and he’d said it was a “bloody surprise.” Come to think of it, he’d been in a foul mood for almost a week, ever since that guys-only poker night he’d conned Xander and Andrew into.
Still, not exactly difficult to find the one real monster in a room full of fakes, she thinks, wending her way around the room. The back of the place has chairs, tables, sofas and a couple of big booths. There’s a knot of girls clustered around one of the booths, and it’s quickly clear that her guy is somewhere on the other side.
“Oh, my god, they should totally win the costume contest!” The Playboy Bunny beside Buffy gushes. There’s a flash of pain when she thinks that Anya would have been horrified.
“Huh? Who?” Buffy says. Because she’s an eloquent drunk. Sort of drunk. Just buzzed, actually.
“Those three guys! Ohmygod! I saw that movie when I was a kid and it was so totally funny! He doesn’t have a heartbeat! Oh, you’ve got to touch him. His skin is even cold. It’s so creepy! But he moves and everything! You should see him conga!” Bunnygirl says, pushing her to the front of the crowd.
It takes a minute to fully appreciate the scene. Andrew is flirting with a girl at his side. He looks… well… like Andrew, except for the Hawaiian shirt and lei. Xander is across from him, also looking very Xanderish, even more so in a tropical print shirt. He’s got a girl, too.
It’s the one in the middle that makes Buffy’s eyes widen. He’s sprawled in the booth, arms across the back of the seat, in a … is that a nylon jogging suit? His hair has been dyed brown, and someone suicidal has glued a thick mustache to his upper lip. Dark glasses obscure his eyes, but Buffy can feel him glaring, though his face is impassive and his head is tipped back and lax.
There’s a nametag on his jacket. It says “Bernie.”
Buffy snorts her drink. Who knew vampires made such good zombies?
_____________
Hopefully you get the joke. If not, look up Weekend at Bernie’s II. And don’t tell me if you do have to look it up, because then I’ll feel old.
Title: He’s An Excellent Dancer
Author: KnifeEdgeFic
Prompt: Spuffy vs. Zombies (“vs.” is ENTIRELY tongue-in-cheek here)
Rating: G
Genre: Comedy/Fluff
Time Period: A totally AU Post-Series, in which reunions have come and gone spuffily and the Comics Never Happened-lalala-Ican'thearyou
He’s An Excellent Dancer
Buffy decides the minute she walks in that there must be a rule: all Hellmouths everywhere, must have a Bronze. Or something like it, anyway. Cleveland’s version is called the Breeze. B’s and Z’s, she thinks, and sips her fruity drink as she scans the crowd.
On a normal night the club is usually packed with college coeds and high schoolers desperate to get their cool on, as well as a random sampling of the things that go bump in the night. Tonight the bumpies are out in force, but they’re mostly of the greasepaint and cheap spandex variety. Halloween has brought out the monster in everyone.
Speaking of monsters, there’s at least one here and she’s in the mood for a dance. Unfortunately he’d refused to tell her what he was coming as. Every time she’d asked his face had screwed up in a snarl and he’d said it was a “bloody surprise.” Come to think of it, he’d been in a foul mood for almost a week, ever since that guys-only poker night he’d conned Xander and Andrew into.
Still, not exactly difficult to find the one real monster in a room full of fakes, she thinks, wending her way around the room. The back of the place has chairs, tables, sofas and a couple of big booths. There’s a knot of girls clustered around one of the booths, and it’s quickly clear that her guy is somewhere on the other side.
“Oh, my god, they should totally win the costume contest!” The Playboy Bunny beside Buffy gushes. There’s a flash of pain when she thinks that Anya would have been horrified.
“Huh? Who?” Buffy says. Because she’s an eloquent drunk. Sort of drunk. Just buzzed, actually.
“Those three guys! Ohmygod! I saw that movie when I was a kid and it was so totally funny! He doesn’t have a heartbeat! Oh, you’ve got to touch him. His skin is even cold. It’s so creepy! But he moves and everything! You should see him conga!” Bunnygirl says, pushing her to the front of the crowd.
It takes a minute to fully appreciate the scene. Andrew is flirting with a girl at his side. He looks… well… like Andrew, except for the Hawaiian shirt and lei. Xander is across from him, also looking very Xanderish, even more so in a tropical print shirt. He’s got a girl, too.
It’s the one in the middle that makes Buffy’s eyes widen. He’s sprawled in the booth, arms across the back of the seat, in a … is that a nylon jogging suit? His hair has been dyed brown, and someone suicidal has glued a thick mustache to his upper lip. Dark glasses obscure his eyes, but Buffy can feel him glaring, though his face is impassive and his head is tipped back and lax.
There’s a nametag on his jacket. It says “Bernie.”
Buffy snorts her drink. Who knew vampires made such good zombies?
_____________
Hopefully you get the joke. If not, look up Weekend at Bernie’s II. And don’t tell me if you do have to look it up, because then I’ll feel old.