Hello 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 ashen.

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 show accordingly!"

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 gritted teeth.

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 Shiloh up!"

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 to glow.

"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 fictional?"

"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 snapped, indignant.

"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 while, Andrew-Who-is-Real..."

"You can count on it."  Then with another smile, Andrew disappeared.

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.

Click here to view Andrew's version of the JABB site.

(Note: This was sent as an April Fool's joke and isn't really meant to be part of the "official" Dyeland story.)

JABB 217