Fic: Legal Action 1/1
Nov. 9th, 2004 08:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
soc_puppetFandom: Detective Conan/Discworld crossover; makes references to the 'Death follows Conan like a lost puppy' gag.
Summary: Well, what would you do about a stalker?
Proper Channels
In a back alleyway, Shin’ichi stared down Death. Death stared right back, mostly because it didn’t have any eyelids.
Contrary to popular belief, Conan could take a hint; the facts just had to be drilled into his head, first.
Conan’s eyes narrowed, and he whipped out a piece of paper with a flourish. "Take that!"
Death stared at the paper that had been plastered to the front of his robes. With one bony hand he peeled it away to read. Death of Rats looked over his shoulder. WHAT'S THIS?
Conan grinned, triumphantly. "A restraining order!"
Death eyed the would-be grade-schooler, seeming impressed. OH? HOW DID YOU GET THIS?
Conan shrugged. "I met this toad the other day that had been thrown out of a bar with a bunch of small, angry blue men. He was surprisingly helpful." He checked his dart watch surreptitiously. "I’d hang on to your friend, if I were you. It should be taking effect any moment now."
The last words Conan heard from Death as it was propelled into another dimension by the restraining order were, I HATE LAWYERS.
—End—
My excuse? I thought one second too long about calling Death a stalker. The amusement I get off of such things totally and completely redeems my brain to me for overrunning me with Plunnies.
Summary: Well, what would you do about a stalker?
Proper Channels
In a back alleyway, Shin’ichi stared down Death. Death stared right back, mostly because it didn’t have any eyelids.
Contrary to popular belief, Conan could take a hint; the facts just had to be drilled into his head, first.
Conan’s eyes narrowed, and he whipped out a piece of paper with a flourish. "Take that!"
Death stared at the paper that had been plastered to the front of his robes. With one bony hand he peeled it away to read. Death of Rats looked over his shoulder. WHAT'S THIS?
Conan grinned, triumphantly. "A restraining order!"
Death eyed the would-be grade-schooler, seeming impressed. OH? HOW DID YOU GET THIS?
Conan shrugged. "I met this toad the other day that had been thrown out of a bar with a bunch of small, angry blue men. He was surprisingly helpful." He checked his dart watch surreptitiously. "I’d hang on to your friend, if I were you. It should be taking effect any moment now."
The last words Conan heard from Death as it was propelled into another dimension by the restraining order were, I HATE LAWYERS.
—End—
My excuse? I thought one second too long about calling Death a stalker. The amusement I get off of such things totally and completely redeems my brain to me for overrunning me with Plunnies.
no subject
Date: 2004-11-11 12:19 am (UTC)-_-... I mean, uh, what insidious evil plot? (...Pratchett...)