ladies (and any fellow gentleman who may be with us),
Due to unforeseen events Jenni has had to temporarily step aside from
her duties as JABB's head writer.
I'm sorry. I can't lie. It's not in my nature. I need
to tell the truth. She's not really stepped aside. I took
over. But I had very good reasons and I hope they'll become clear
as you read this story I wrote with a friend.
Lady JenniAnn and Andrew were in the Willowveil ballroom taking
measurements for new stage curtains. At least Andrew was taking
measurements. Lady JenniAnn was pleasantly occupied with gazing
dreamily at the angel who was sporting his tool belt. His hair
shown with the sunlight streaming in the large, arched windows.
His eyes gleamed with deep concentration. His broad shoulders
raised as he moved the tape measure and his studly arms reached for...
::blushes:: You know, I think I'll just finish this story by
myself. You can proofread, OK?
::dreamy sigh:: Can I still sit here by you?
Sure. So Andrew was taking measurements. "Eight feet, 7
inches, JenniAnn," he called out.
Lady JenniAnn went to the laptop nearby and typed the numbers in.
Suddenly she made a very odd expression. Then she went completely
Andrew panicked and hoped it wasn't some indiscreet instant message or
pop-up and went towards the woman. "What is it?"
Lady JenniAnn began to read from the screen. "'Welcome to JABB
217. Boy, it's been quite a week so please excuse the shortness
of this newsletter. I wish Andrew were real cause if he were, he
could help me with this spring cleaning!'" She took a deep
breath. "It's signed Jenni. Who is Jenni?"
Andrew shrugged. "Apparently some lady who doesn't know I'm real
and cleans a lot. Where'd you find this?"
"It was on my desktop. I don't get it..."
"That's not your desktop, Lady. It's my desktop. Truth be
told, you live in my desktop," a loud voice answered.
Andrew looked up to where the voice seemed to be coming from.
"Father? You sound different..."
The voice laughed. "I'm not God. Although I did create your
friend there. Lady JenniAnn's just my fictional doppleganger."
"What!?!" Lady JenniAnn cried, unbelieving.
Andrew become indignant. "Be nice to her," he demanded of the
voice. "Who are you?"
"My name is Jenni. I run JABB. I'm writing this as I
speak. This is my story."
Andrew shook his head. "Uh no. This is real. This is
happening now. This isn't a story."
"Sweetheart, of course it's a story. You're a TV character.
Everything's a story to you."
Andrew arched his eye brows.
"You're not actually real. Some lady named Martha Williamson came
up with you."
"No!" Lady JenniAnn cried. "You're a liar! Andrew's totally
real! She just was inspired by him and his friends and made the
Jenni sighed audibly. "Really, your devotion's very sweet but I
assure you... you're fictional characters. Everything you say is
only because I wrote it to amuse myself and some friends. I mean
right now I could write that you two start singing, oh, I dunno... 'The
Beat Goes On.'"
"Oh you cannot!" Lady JenniAnn yelled then made an odd face. "The
grocery store's a supermart, uh huh. Little girls still break
hearts, uh huh."
"And men still keep on marching off to war, electrically they keep a
baseball score," Andrew sang.
"The beat goes on, the beat goes on. Drums keep pounding a rhythm
to the brain. La-de-da-de-de, la-de-da-de-da," they sang in unison then
stared at each other.
"See my point?" Jenni's booming voice asked. "I mean, if I really
wanted to, I could turn Andrew there into Mr. Darcy from Pride and..."
"NOOOO!" JenniAnn screeched and clasped onto the angel. "You
cannot take him away from me. Never!!!" she insisted through
Andrew's face was burning red not from embarrassment but real
anger. JenniAnn had began sobbing and had sunk to the floor,
still clinging desperately to his hand. "Why are you torturing
this poor girl?!"
"I wouldn't worry. She's always been an unruly character.
She says things I don't mean to write. You at least are a better
behaved fictional character."
"I am not a fictional character! I'm an angel sent by God and you
will leave me and my friend alone and go... go haunt someone else!"
Jenni laughed. "So now I'm a ghost? I'm your author these
days. One of them, anyway. Show some respect, Angel Boy."
"You don't scare me, Jenni. Whomever you are. It takes a
lot to rattle me, missy. I've been in jail."
"Only because I wrote you into that jail."
"I survived the North American witch hunts."
"Who do you think made sure of that? ME! I researched Salem
and wrote about the trials in Shiloh, Massachusetts. Heck, I made
Andrew shook his head, trying to decide what to say next.
"I love you..." Lady JenniAnn was murmuring, becoming more despondent
by the second.
Andrew looked down at her and then back up to where the unseen voice
seemed to be originating from. He determined that he had to put
this to an end. He crouched down to be eye level with Lady
JenniAnn. "Don't worry, Lady. Everything will be just
fine. You'll see in just a minute." Then Andrew smiled at
her and squeezed her hand. Then, with a knowing smile, he began
"Andrew!" the woman screamed as he faded away.
"That's so tragic... It'll make an excellent finale. Poor
Lady JenniAnn," Jenni said to herself as she typed away in the darkened
kitchen. She glanced out the window. A storm was really
brewing. A bolt of lightning arched across the sky. "Drat
it all, I wanna finish this but may be I better shut...
Hey!" The light in the kitchen suddenly went on.
Hesitantly, Jenni turned around. She was home alone. Who
could have turned on the light?
"AHHHHHHH!!!" she screamed realizing it wasn't the kitchen light at all
but a glowing man.
"Not so fictional now, huh?" Andrew asked with a grin but then it
faded. "What did you mean by telling Lady JenniAnn she's
"B-but she is! I made her up!"
"You thought I was made-up, too, but here I am standing in your
kitchen. You still think you can turn me into Mr. Darcy?"
Jenni shook her head, struck dumb. "I... I don't feel so good."
"That would be guilt. Poor Laja's probably sobbing on the floor
at Willowveil thinking, at last, I really have disappeared."
"Oh like I'm the only one in this room who has made her cry!" Jenni
"That was never intentional on my part. Besides, I can't be held
responsible for my actions. You're my writer, remember?" Andrew
asked in a smart aleck tone.
"I, umm, perhaps I was a bit hasty... So... what can I do for
you?" Jenni asked, looking around for a quick escape.
"You're going to take a little break and think about what you've
done. May be write a nice apology letter to Lady JenniAnn.
And I know just the place you can go to reflect on why it is you feel
the need to tell the good people of Dyeland that they're fictional,"
Andrew informed her.
"But, wait... Whoa! Hey... how'd I get here? It's
so... white. And vast..."
"Netherworld. You okay here?"
Jenni looked around, aghast. What could she possibly say?
She supposed it was considerably more exciting than her
kitchen... "But what about JABB? It's due."
"Oh, believe me, it'll get written. There's a lot to report,"
Andrew responded with a smile.
And in spite of herself, Jenni smiled. "I guess I'll see you in a
"You can count on it." Then with another smile, Andrew
Jenni looked up at the sky, shrugged, and began to explore.
Andrew reappeared back in the Willowveil ballroom where Lady JenniAnn
sat, catatonic, on the floor. In her lap was a blue flannel shirt
that looked amazingly familiar. In fact, he was pretty sure it
was the same one that he'd misplaced the previous October... But
he decided that was a matter to be dealt with at a later date.
Today had involved enough drama.
"Well, if it isn't the very real Lady JenniAnn Chandler," Andrew
greeted with a smile.
The lady shrieked with happiness and ran towards him and hugged
him. "You're back! We're not fake! I was just sitting
here... waiting. To be erased or cut and pasted to some entirely
different story... With... with out you!" And there the
tears began again.
Andrew smiled peacefully. "I assure you. We're real.
That woman was just very, very confused."
"B-but how'd she make us sing?"
"The power of suggestion for you may be. I just started singing
because I thought it was sad to let you sing a duet alone," Andrew
answered with a teasing smile.
Lady JenniAnn began to visibly relax. She watched as Andrew went
to the laptop. "Whacha doing?"
Andrew began to type rapidly. "Well, Jenni had to go spend some
time by herself for a while to think about things so I assured her I'd
take over her fan club site. So what do you think?"
Lady JenniAnn sat down.
"Type in www.onthisside.net," Andrew directed.
And she did and found the all-new redesigned JABB web site by yours
truly. So welcome to the new JABB. Now under new management
aka me, Andrew the very real angel of death.