About: Louis and Lestat receive the preview copy of "Merique"..ahem, " Merrick."
Status: Silly.
Characters: Louis and Lestat. (Neither mad nor statue-like)
Spoilers: All of the series up to Merrick. (Hey this is the first spec to include spoilers for Merrick?)
Becky: Has left the building.

e-mail me at: pointedulac25@yahoo.com

Feedback appreciated!

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"Gah! I am so sick of this! Why does she does this to me? What the hell did I do to deserve this?!"

The sound of something small-- a book, presumably -- being hurled against the wall.

Louis put down his pen and sighed, rolling his eyes skyward. Every few years, it was the same thing. Lestat, literary critic that he was, always had something to say about the ghost writers' stories.

First, it was "Memnoch"; the first book that Rice woman had written without Lestat's help. "She has me falling in love with some stupid characteisation of her! She has me drinking from...ugh! She has me laying on the floor like a zombie!"

Then there was "The Vampire Armand."

"It's about that imp! I'm laying on the floor like a zombie! I got up, and ten I got back down again, and then I got up again!"

Louis could guess the storyline of the next novel. "She's put me back down on that damn floor again! Honestly, would I, of all people, lay on that dirty little ground?!" he was raging from the other room.

Louis allowed a smug smile to creep across his face slowly. Well, serve the Brat right. He said he wanted to be in the limelight; he had got what he deserved. If he had left Rice alone, and been prepared to sink back into obscurity like his reticent companion, at least his reputation wouldn't have been tarnished.

So the fans complained Louis hardly appeared in the novels much nowadays. He didn't care. At least his history wasn't changed in one fell swoop, like Pandora.

"Can't she make up her mind?!" she had hissed.

At least he hadn't been 'seperated' from Lestat, like Daniel had been from Armand.

"That ungrateful wretch! After all I did for her!" he had snarled.

Not that Rice hadn't tried to split them up. Lestahadthraend otochherhouse if she did.

Or even been accused of making two nutty child vampires, like Marius.

"Well, really." he had sniffed.

The sound of something smashing. The priceless ming vase, he guessed. He sighed. Better go and calm Lestat down.

When he walked into the parlour, he was greeted by the sight of Mojo cowering beneath the chair, and a demonic Lestat turned to him, growling. "Don't you, start, Louis! She's really taking the proverbial right now!"

"Really, Lestat," he murmured, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder, massaging it gently, "I'm sure it's not all that bad."

"Oh, yes, that's easy for you to say!" hissed Lestat, "I'm sick of this pathetic portrayl of me! I'm the Vampire Lestat, for goodness' sake!"

Louis raised an eyebrow. "It's just a book."

"You're always so condescending when I fly into rages about these new books," Lestat snapped accusingly, pushing his hand away, "always acting like I'm being childish. Well, Pointe du Lac," he said, a devilish grin creping across his face, "why don't you read it?"

He picked up the mangled preview of the long-awaited novel and placed i n Louis's hands. His lover eyed him suspiciously. Lestat was being overly friendly; something was amiss.

But Lestat wasn't about to fly into another rage. He looked positively gleful. Sighing, Louis read the cover. "Merrick." he said out loud. Who the hell was Merrick? Doubtless some original character, like Sybelle or Groucho-u-like Benji.

"Why do you want me to read it?" he asked.

"Because, Louis," Lestat smiled, kissing him, "some of that rage was directed at her potrayl of YOU."

Louis swallowed. "M-me? But...she...doesn't write about me anymore! Lestat," he cried, "she doesn't! She doesn't! Tell me I'm not in it!"

"Please," Lestat said, pushing him towards his room, knowing Louis liked privacy when he read, "read it. Tell me what you think, my dear critic."

Louis frowned and began to read the first page. As he shut the door, he cried, "Why is David suddenly bi?!"

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On the video screen, Jim Morrison danced across the stage, singing "Light My Fire." Lestat scowled. "I could do that." he muttered. Not that he was jealous, oh no. Still, he blew the television up with his mind, just for good measure.

Truth be told, he was getting a little bored. He had hunted, and watched Celebrity Deathmatch, and Jerry Springer, and apologised to Mojo, who had licked his face, then washed off the dog drool in disgust, and watchd MTV, and still Louis had not finished the novel.

Lestat's anger calmed a little now, he wanted to indulge in his favourite indoor past-time with his beautiful friend, but he knew not to interrupt Louis when he was reading. Especially, he thought with a grin, especially a novel like that.

Suddenly, the door burst open. Louis stormed in, green eyes alight with rage, and he tore the book up into confetti, showering it around the room dramatically. "I am *not* mad!" he screamed.

Lestat knew better than to argue with Louis when he was in one of these moods. "I know, beautiful one." he murmured.

"And WHY must I be pitied?!" Louis snarled.

"Er...you don't?" Lestat suggested hopefully.

Louis ignored him. Instead, he went to the drawer of the bureau and took out a box of matches.

"Louis...where are you going with that?" Lestat whispered. "Don't go burning the flat down, now..." He was beginning to regret letting Louis see the preview.

"I'm not going to!" Louis snapped, as if that were the most stupid, exaggerated thing he had ever said.

"Oh," Lestat sighed with relief, thinking that perhaps the rumours about Louis's pyromaniacal tendencies were a little exagerated.

"I'm going to burn HER house down!" Snapped Louis. And in an instant, hewas out of the window.

"Louis, Louis, wait!" cried Lestat, darting out over the rooftops after him, "If you do that, who'll forward all our royalty cheques?!"

The End...for now.

(Or at least until chapter two prompts me to consider what Louis is going to do if he outruns Lestat. ;-) )