TITLE: Menacing the Phantom Clone

SERIES: Spam and Umad (Buffy/Popular X-Over A.U. # 4)

AUTHOR: yet another Snarlsnout "literary tribute"...

EMAIL: Snarlsnout@yahoo.com

PAIRING/RATING: Sam/Dawn, Willow/Nicole Easily an "R" for language (Dawn is a major potty mouth--but what do you expect from a girl who called her sister a "butthole" on national television.)

SUMMARY/SPOILERS/DISCLAIMERS: Joss Whedon--Buffy/Ryan Murphy--Popular/Kevin Smith--
Jay & Silent Bob/Angelina walked this path first with "The Writer"/Snarlsnout--anything remotely original...

A/N: OK since this is my 10th story, thought I'd do something special...It'll be an epic blowout in- corperating bits of all that came before it. I'm sure my legions of rabid fans have scoured the internet in search of my earlier works-- (If the 3 digit counter at Kim's -www.realmoftheshadow.com/snarlsnout.htm- site is any indicator.) --the Sam McPherson: Investigative Journalist! series...my Nic & Wiccan Popular/Buffy X-over works (Super'tard, BTPWRC, Dawnie's Inferno)...and my stand alone sagas--this will be a chance to revisit all your favorite characters and scenerios together in one epic vehicle; a totally vapid vanity piece with no artistic or socially redeeming value whatsoever...(half this shit isn't even spelled rite...)

"Dawn and Cynical Sam totally dive the muff! Who wouldn't want to read about that?" Willow calmly recited...

Dawn leaned back in her chair, arms crossed at her chest, flashing one of her patented hateful angry/pouty stares. Her nostrils flaring, her ice blue eyes glowing like lasers. Her long reddish-brown hair cascading over her shoulders from underneath her black stocking cap. She was pissed...

"What the Fuck is a Wahoo! group anyway?!" she seethed.

"It's an electronic message posting board where like-minded pervs gather to discuss/describe their particular fetishes and warped sexual fantasies because they are too afraid, or ill equipped to attempt them in their petty excuses for reality..." Willow offered, pulling up the next post on her laptop...

"You know Spam--like your pathetic posse at Kennedy..." Nic felt compelled to contribute.

"Thanks for the clarification Satan, but we enjoy living vicariously thru your many...many, sick, twisted exploits."

"H-h-here, check this part out--" Willow cut in, having seen enough interaction between Sam and her girl Nicole, to know when tempers were escalating...

"Only to be thrown on her back asian, as Dawn apparently experienced a renewed surge of alien possession. The smaller girl was straddling her again, her skirt climbing ever further up her long, slender legs. Legs that for some reason reminded Sam of a new-born colt; standing shakily at first, but with a gathering strength and grace...A brief flash of discomfort, as Dawn raised up and tugged at Sam's fanny pack that had gotten terribly dislocated...Sam raised her hips to let the girl pull the belt from her waist, and--what the hell--unsnapped her camo fatigues as well. Dawn wasted no time yanking them down over Sam's heavy work boots, but froze solid at the sight of the older girl's legs, spread and bent slightly at the knees. Sam wearing the slightest, delicate light blue silk bikini panties trimmed w/ lace. So unexpected; so feminine (given the rest of our girl's attire) that Dawn felt as if she glimpsed the inner Sam; Or, as she giggled to her self--the chewy, juicy center!"

"OMG!", Dawn panicked, "what if all my friends at school read that? I'm having enough trouble fitting in, what with everyone dying around me..."

"OMG!", Sam echoed, "You can add me to that list then, because--your sister will Fucking kill me!"

"Besides, it's only been a couple of weeks since we've met and, you know--consumated...How could anyone even know?" Dawn pondered, before all three girls' eyes turned towards Nicole.

"Puh-leeze," Nic smirked, "Like the world was waiting with bated breath to hear about Spam's cradle-robbing exploits..."

"B-b-besides, they're not really about you Dawnie..." Willow again trying to maintain order between the four girls seated at the Magic Box table. "They're people's demented fantasies about some young actresses that just happen to look like us...or something."

"Only you know, sexually attractive" Nicole offered. "Just kidding Spam, you know you rock my world--besides there's only about 500 people on the whole planet w/ access to it."

"Well...can we find out who's writing all this porn? And sue them for slander or something?" Sam considered, not used to being on this side of the censorship argument...

"Well, um yes--and no," Willow explained, "That last piece was an excerpt from the underground classic "Dawnie's Inferno". It was posted by someone calling himself "Alister Growley". I've managed to backtrace his Wahoo! account to reveal him as one Milford Tywayne Limpelknocker. Further research thru the Social Security Office and the Dept. of Motor Vehicles has given us the fact that he is a grizzled old trash-truck driver in DuBuque, Iowa who was only recently paroled after his "motorcycle club" was nailed on a RICO charge of running a methamphetamine lab..."

The redhead was of course smugly waiting to be congratulated on her amazing computer hackery, but instead met only the blank stares of 3 appropriately terrified teens...

"Forget the lawsuit," Nicole finally stirred, "There's only one way to deal with this kind of sleazy low-life scum--kick their perverted Neanderthal asses!"

"Fuck yea!" Dawn screeched, standing up, overturning her chair. "C'mon Cynical Sam--we're going to DuBuque!"

Nicole and Willow watched the two brunettes storm out, then idly returned their attention to the Wahoo! board...

"Oh good," Nic smiled, "there's more of that Aeryn Sun's trade-mark Sam-abusage--I like that girl for some reason."

"OMG," Willow groaned, "Look at all these people trashing us--Jos Mous/Hope Libby/Carla/SailorUranus--Alister Growley doesn't even post that often--well, except those lurid porn pic manips of you..."

"Well when those 2 are done with him, the only post he'll be seeing is the one attached to the landfill sign he'll be buried under!---And what's this 'Spawn of Satan' shit?!?"

"Hmmm," Willow continued perusing, "Did you read any of these stories by Harper?"

"I, um, I might've glanced at a couple..." Nic admitted.

"She's very talented," Willow stammered, "Her style kind of reminds me of--"

"--Me jumpin' your scrawny, freckled butt?" Nic purred in the redhead's ear as she reached past her and signed off...

"Oh yeah," Willow sighed leaning her head back against the petite blonde's shoulder.

Dawn and Cynical Sam were about an hour and a half east of Sunnydale, still so pumped on adrenaline that Sam failed to realize it would've behooved her to shift out of 2nd gear (before maintaining a steady 80 mph for the last 100 miles or so...) The Spam-mobile made an almost musical series of pings, knocks and clunks before finally coasting to a stop in a huge cloud of blue smoke...

"Aboot" an hour later...

"God. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse" Sam said as they stood on the curb watching the Spam-mobile being towed.

"Well, you've come to right place" Dawn quipped as they slowly turned 180 degrees to find themselves in front of a "Ceaser Crouton's Pseudo-Mexican Buffet" fast-food franchise.

"Heh," Sam giggled as the counter girl left, "She had a cow on her hat." They spotted the 10 foot plastic "Ceaser Crouton" facsimile (complete in "Fiesta-Disco" regalia) with a computer terminal mounted in it's bulging crotch. Dawn nodded, and they wandered over and logged in on the Wahoo! group...

"Has he posted anything else?" Sam ventured uneasily.

"No, just kissing somebody's ass who actually gave him feedback..." Dawn paused a second for inspiration to strike. "Here," she said, maneuvering Sam in front of the keyboard, "Type this shit--"

"Yo! You want some FB Growley? You are the "Muff Lovin' Lust Demon" Demon. All you Internet nerds are Muff Lovers! FYI: in many states I am considered Jailbait--and my sapholifemate Cynical Sam here, is too simple-minded to legally enjoin in any activity as a consensual adult...(Sam shoots Dawn an icy look, shrugs and keeps typing...). We are en route to DuPuke even as you read this, where we will make a painful example of Alister Growley, one that the rest of you slash pervs would do well to heed!--Signed: Dawn & Cynical Sam."

They'd barely gotten their orders (2 Sushi taco platters and 2 large Code Reds) when the terminal chirped--"You've got mail!"

Sam scrolled it up--"Bring It On!--A. Growley".

The investigative journalist was livid as she returned to the pink plastic booth and relayed the message. Both girls momentarily loosing their appetite, then regaining it ten-fold as they watched each other's ripe, pink glistening lips, lightning fast tongues darting out to flick at wayward drops of "special sauce", mouths puckering around straws and the accompanying slurpy/sucky sounds, Sam finally rubbing her face vigorously in her napkin as both girls imagined that maneuver elsewhere...

"I feel we are at a crossroads Cynical Sam, we can scurry home to Sunnydale with our tails betweens our legs--or we can proceed to Dubuque by any means necessary and nail that sick mother-fucking Alister Fucking Growley's fucking ass to the mother-fucking wall...fuck..." Dawn fizzled.

"Um, hey babe--" Sam began cautiously, "not really digging the whole potty-mouth persona."

"Yes, little girl, it's most unbecoming," the young nun in the next booth leaned over and critiqued. "I'm Sister Hope--do I understand that you girls need a ride?" A sinister eyebrow waggles...

The three stride across the parking lot to Sister Hope's jet black Humvee (with Chromium red wheels and bumpers, and the "naked babe" trucker mud-flaps). As Dawn reaches for the door handle she is suddenly hit with a stataco barrage of mental images--the vehicle somer-saulting endlessly in a slow-motion freeway fiasco, mangled bodies flung to the hard tarmac--she shudders involuntarily, then hops in and plays with the radio...

Sister Hope insists the girls change places, so Sam and Dawn each take turns wiggling over the front seat for the benefit of our vivid, voyeuristic imaginations...

"You young ladies do honor the "Unwritten Code of the Road", do you not?" Sam turned to Dawn totally clueless.

"Wait, I know this one..." Dawn struggled to recall. "Yes--Mr. Giles has a bumper sticker leftover from the '60's --'Gas, Grass or Ass; Nobody Rides for Free'."

3 A.M. finds Dawn seriously violating the privileges of her learner's permit, as she's navigating the Humvee haphazardly down a lonely Nevada desert highway at about 120 mph. Sister Hope in a moment of ecstasy, rises up thru the sunroof, bracing against the wind, her arms out-stretched as she screams into the clear night sky--

"Cynical Sam, You are the Clit Commander Baby!"

8:30 A.M. finds the 3 ordering the "Alien Autopsy Omelets" at the Crashdown Cafe in Roswell, New Mexico. Sister Hope is disclosing her mission to hook-up with a fellow activist friend of hers, Lily Esposito, as they attempt to spring "Bruce the Gay Chimp" from his new digs in the St. Louis zoo.

Sam, returning from the ladies room, engages in the old "which-way-are-you-going?" shuffle with a flustered, pixyish, young blonde waitress loaded down with dirty plates...

"Hey," Sam acknowledges with a polite smile.

"Hey, back at ya," Maria nods.

About 3 feet past each other both girls pause, tilt their heads in a puzzled "deja vu" moment, shrug it off, and return to life as normal...

Preparing to leave: Sister Hope has to shoo away all the klbumpkins that have flocked to ogle her killer wheels. Sam looks distractedly down the street and notices 2 attractive blonde women loading what appears to be an entire day-care class of identical blonde babies into 4-wide tandem strollers.

Meanwhile in Sunnydale--Nic and Willow are sitting propped up against the headboard bathed in some serious afterglow.

"I figured this thing would've ran down by now" Nicole said as she held up the severed Buffybot head for closer examination. But no, it still bore the same ditzy smile, it's tongue protruding and programmed for a slow, circular motion.

"You know baby, I just get...lonesome sometimes" Willow blushed. "I try to be strong, like a Glamazon..." she purred knowing exactly how to melt her girl's icy barriers...

"Well, I'm here now Wil, accept no substitutes" Nic razzed. Spinning the Buffybot head on her fingertip like a basketball, she pauses, pumps, and sails a 3 pointer across the room and into the laundry hamper...

"Nicole Julian," Willow efferveses, "You are the Clit Commander Baby!"

Back on the road, we find Dawn escalating her "Juvenile Road Warrior" antics--steering with her feet, flashing her fine, freckled pubescent breasts for her fans (truckers, bikers, cows, Highway Patrol...). Sam manages to momentarily escape Sister Hope's grasp and comes up gasping for air in time to glimpse a "Welcome to Colorado" sign. She makes another short-lived reprieve in time for "Welcome to Kansas", and an even briefer acknowledgment of "Welcome to Missouri". She missed the "Welcome to Iowa" beacon altogether as Sister Hope clutched her tightly in the throes of her umpteenth orgasm...

Finally free of the nympho nun, our girls find themselves 23 miles west of DuBuque, Iowa. They navigate thru a woodlot, emerging into an isolated clearing where they are presented a view of prime Mid-Americana--A 1940s Airstream trailer sitting lop-sidedly on cinder blocks. The surrounding "yard" seems a contest to which can "represent" more prolifically: the rusty 50s-60s-70s era Detroit derelicts or the brindle colored pitbulls assigned to guard them...

Dawn pulls out a "protection gew-gaw" Willow concocted, which allows our girls to move freely among the cavorting carnivores. They are crouched at the base of the trailer, preparing for their first look inside, when they are startled by a cacophonous mix of metal and mutts. Ever the workaholic, Milford Tywayne Limpelknocker has brought his home with him, in the form of a large, smelly green garbage truck. He swings down out of the cab, balancing 2 12-packs of Moosehead Lager; steps into a huge pile of fresh dogshit and proceeds inside the trailer...

Dawn and Sam slowly raise up to peer inside--Milford is exchanging the 2 new 12-packs for one cold one. He turns to acknowledge the two attractive young women clad in tight leather cat-suits and stiletto heels--

"Hey. You ladies ever had your toenails nibbled by a grizzled old trashman wearing only dirty work-gloves?"

"Yeah--about a million times," Sissy (the Faithy/Elizay looking brunette) quipped.

"Good, then we can space it tonight baby, I'm beat."

"Awwww!" Sissy moaned, joined by Justice (the honey-haired Nadiay/Shannony looking one).

Dawn and Sam crouched outside the trailer transfixed by the terrifying trio. They watched them devour dinner in the cramped kitchenette, and then proceed thru the 30-foot trailer to the palatial living area. The decor here best described as "Techno-Spartan" as Sissy and Jussy pounce on the faux Tiger fur covered Queen-sized mattress and box springs in the center of the floor, while Milford makes adjustments to an entire wall of computers, monitors, stereo equipment and mixing boards. He pops the caps on both his video-camera lens, and another cold beer. The three take a few deep cleansing (possibly bong-related) breaths, and then..."Action" Milford smiles...

Sissy and Jussy waste no time in heating things up. Deep, sensual kisses, interspersed with grunts and groans, and the obligatory pulling and whipping of their luxurious manes. Milford seems pleased with the spectacle he's filming until Sissy rips open Jussy's full frontal zipper, exposing that bodacious bod and recites--

"Oh yeah! You like it rough don't you Jussy? Err--shit! Dawn--I meant--You like it rough Dawn! Fuck! Can we start over?"

"Damn it Milford!" Jussy snapped (and zipped) "I've learned my lines! I hate working with amateurs!"

"Hey! I got your amateur right here Bitch!"

"Ladies! Ladies...please?!?" Milford groaned. "No wonder I can never write any new fic...Look, let's take a break. We'll see if we can salvage anything from yesterday's footage..."

Sissy and Jussy exchange hateful, heated glares as Milford sorts thru several video cassettes before bringing an image up almost life-sized on the wide-screen TV. He joins the 2 girls at the cramped kitchenette table, simultaneously opening his laptop and another beer...Dawn and Cynical Sam outside peering stealthily over their shoulders...

"God," Dawn groaned, "She doesn't even look like me!" Sam joins her as she looks down self-consciously at herself, "Well, except the killer cleavage..." Sam rolling her eyes...

Milford sorts thru the hundreds of half-baked, half-finished half-assed fic files until he pulls up his latest endeavor--"Dawnie Does the 'Dale"...Preparing to transcribe the hot girl-on-girl-action transpiring on the screen...

Sissy and Jussy going at it hot and heavy--totally "Sizzlin' Sinema"--until Sissy rips open Jussy's full frontal buttoned nurse-like minidress to reveal her bodacious bod and quips--"Oh yeah! You like it rough, don't you Jussy? Er--shit! Dawn--I meant--You like it rou---"

Milford hit the pause on the remote; he started to speak, but instead scratched his beard and downed his beer...

"Wait!" Jussy contributes. "We can go back to that school-girl one--where I'm wearing that little plaid mini-skirt and Sissy rips my tight white blouse open and..." she falters...

"Ladies," Milford sighs, sliding each young woman a beer and helping himself. "I think we're in a rut..."

Outside the trailer Sam was livid. Never one to show her anger (--wait, this girl'd rip you a new one for breathing wrong--) Sam had never felt such fury before, but this time "it was personal"; This time they were dissing her Sweet Baboo! Dawn panicked when she realized what her seething Sammy was about to do, then flattered by the unstoppable gesture, she followed her lover into the abyss...

Sam slams the trailer door open. Dawn props herself against it, paralyzed with fear. The 3 at the table just sip their beers watching Sam McPherson pacing furiously back and forth in front of them. Too rattled to form any type of coherent sentence, she seems stuck on the first word--

"Wh-wh-wh-wh-wha-wha-wha-wha..." Milford takes a quick "pit-stop" and returns basically where he left...

"OMG! They're real!" Jussy squeals with delight. "Dawn and Cynical Sam! God we love you guys!"

"Wh-wh-wh-wha-wha-wha..." Sam continues, defying their petty interruptions...

"What my articulate journalistic sapho-lifemate is trying to say," Dawn braved, "Is if you love us so much--how can you write such lurid, slanderous, derogatory trash about us?!?"

Milford pulls out a chair and helps Dawn lead Sam to it. Once seated across from them, he offers both girls a beer. Sam looks befuddled; Dawn pops the bottlecap of hers on the edge of the cheap formica tabletop like a seasoned pro and commences chugging it...

"Don't you see?!?" Milford began. "It is ~because~ of the fact that I--er--we love you that compels me to write fanfics! If it wasn't for obsessed fans such as I--er--us, you two would have never gotten together! Willow and Nicole; Dawn and Cynical Sam--you two are perfect for each other! Wahoo! is doing a service to confused hetero starlets everywhere by showing them a viable alternative! A chance to interact not only with fellow "Hollywood Hotties", but with their immense, devoted fan-bases as well...It is only out of this all-consuming love/lust that wanna-be scribes such as I go to such efforts...Production Companies, Networks, Sponsors be damned! Our lives may suck, but our idols deserve to be happy! We live only vicariously thru you!"

At some point during this outburst, Milford had unknowingly stood up on the table to further proclaim his sacred mission. He now stood frozen, arms outstretched. Looking down, Dawn taps his knee and hands him another beer as Sam slowly claps her hands sarcastically at his stellar soliloquy...

The five spend the rest of the night concocting a "hare-brained scheme that just might work!"

One week later finds Milford and his 2 young brunette house-guests watching an all-new! "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" on UPN. The fierce blonde deftly slaughters the MOTW and rushes to her terrified sister's aid--"Jussy, you're my sister! I'll always take care of you!" The music swells and we cut to a pimple-cream commercial...

"Pretty seamless transition, I'd say..." Dawn sarcastically critiqued, popping open another beer...Sam, of course, snoring; Milford trying to hide his tears as he "cried like a little bitch that just skinned his knee..."

He sniffles, and rises to answer the door. He stands transfixed at the site of Ms. Summers herself, in all her Blonde Gloriousitude! This makes it all the easier for Buffy to deliver a round-house kick to his head that sends him sprawling. Also a prime opportunity to toss off some of her amazing dialog--"You're not the brightest trashcan on the route, are you Milford?"

And this is how we'll leave them (for now...) Milford and Sam unconscious for various reasons; Buffy leading her incorrigible kid sister to the car by twisting her ear and scolding her mercilessly...

~Epilog~

Six months later, Aeryn Sun reads a message posted to the Wahoo! PopularSlash board from Carla...Briefly--

"What ever happened to that Alister Growley? I used to enjoy his stories..."

"Yeah," Aeryn typed, "but they weren't very realistic..."

tbc (whenever...)