Subject: Funk Rave '99--Underneath It All (01/01) Date: Sat, 30 Oct 1999 20:12:52 -0500 From: Evil Cousin Tiff To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU All right, with all the Halloween stories being posted, I couldn't resist writing one. Unfortunately, like most of my stories, I just sort of made this up as I went along, and it turned out really weird and way off what I originally intended to happen in this tale. It would help if you have some knowledge of Pam Grier's filmography, but it's not really necessary. =D Permission to be archived at the FK fanfic and FTP site. I don't own FK, because if I did, I wouldn't be posting this disclaimer. No infringing happening here, okay? Good. I don't own any of the movies, songs, or groups mention herein, either. So there. I'm telling you now because the last thing I need is to get sued. ------------------------------ "Funk Rave '99--Underneath It All" by Evil Cousin Tiff (October 1999) Nick made his way to the kitchen table, where all of his mail was sitting, just waiting for him to open it all. Bill. Bill. Mysterious black envelope. Mysterious black envelope. Mysterious black envelope. Bill. Mysterious black envelope. Geez, Nick could always tell when Halloween was approaching, just by the color of the envelopes in his mail. Not that he minded getting invited to all of the factions costume parties. It was just that the whole mysterious black invitation thing was no longer mysterious and actually quite predictable. Nick sighed as he threw all of the invitations on the table. He'd attend them all, whether he wanted to or not. Underneath all the dark paper, something caught the angsty vampire's eyes. Color! Obnoxiously bright neon yellow! And that was just the envelope. Nick opened it to find a hand written invitation on a piece of neon orange cardstock. It read: You are invited to attend "Funk Rave '99--Underneath It All" October 31, 1999 10:30pm Underneath the Morgue Come dressed as your favorite character from the funk era. From the location of the party, Nick knew it was the Dark NatPack throwing it. Which interested him greatly. Unlike the other factions, who would throw costume parties at the Raven, and spend much money on the mysterious, but nicely printed black invitations, the Dark NatPack seemed to have not spent more than a couple bucks for the envelopes and posterboard. Not that the neon wasn't a nice change... just seemed a bit, well, cheap. The party seemed like a neat idea, and it certainly was different. Nick made sure that he'd have time to go. --------------- The Party Nick arrived at the morgue, dressed to party. The thing he wasn't quite sure of was how to get underneath the morgue. A little bit of information that was left out on the invitation. Into Nat's office. A familiar piece of neon posterboard hung from the front. In large letters, was written: "To the FUNK -->" The arrow pointed to the cooler. Inside, there was a man. Not a very clean man, standing in the middle of the floor with a chalk board in his hand. Upon closer examination with vampire senses, Nick discovered that this man wasn't actually alive. The dead unclean man wrote something on the chalk board and showed it to Nick. INVITATION PLEASE. Nick handed him the invitation. The man scrawled on the board again. MY NAME IS BOYD. I AM THE SANITATION ENGINEER. MESS UP THE HQ, I'LL EAT YOUR BRAINS. ENJOY THE PARTY. Boyd leaned over and lifted the floor panel to reveal the entrance to the secret sub-basement in which the Dark NatPack resides and the kickin' funk tunes were emanating. Nick was glad to go down into the strobe lighted darkness. He wanted to get as far away from Boyd as possible. The HQ was packed, most of the invited guests having already arrived. Everyone was in slick seventies attire. Afros, especially, abound. The dance floor was where most of the Dark NatPack was at. They definitely knew how to have fun at one of their own parties. All of them, including Natalie, were getting jiggy to the Isley Brothers, which was entirely too loud, but no one seemed to care. Nick found the wet bar and ordered himself a drink. Janette wasn't far behind, and said hello. "Hello." "Hi, Janette." Nick examined her outfit. She was scantily clad in a black with a name tag that said "Lisa, voodoo priestess" on it, and on her head, a small afro. Janette took one look at Nick and struggled to hold back a snicker at his yellowy-green leisure suit. "Who's Lisa?" He asked, unfamiliar with Janette's character. "Lisa was the love interest of Blacula in 'Scream Blacula Scream'." Nick obviously had never seen the film and just smiled and nodded. Janette moved over to the table where LaCroix was sitting. LaCroix was, of course, surrounded by his addicts. Over by the air hockey table, Tracy and the DPs were engaged in a game. Nick couldn't tell who was winning, but he thought he'd go over and watch, anyway. Tracy, looked up as soon as she noticed the green suit heading towards her. She too, held back a laugh. Tracy was dressed in not very much of anything, and had an afro similar to Janette's. "Who's your character, Trace?" He asked. Tracy rolled her eyes, shocked he didn't know who she was. "I am Foxy Brown! Hard-hitting heroine that infiltrated an underworld drug ring." Nick didn't really know who she was talking about, either, but hey, yet another movie he had never seen, he supposed. After the game, he noticed that Natalie had broken away from her little dancing dark faction and was now talking to Screed, who had a ridiculously large hat on, and Vachon, who's afro was at least 5 times the size of the one Natalie, Tracy, and Janette were wearing. Natalie too was dressed in the same manner as Janette and Tracy and he wondered if she too came dressed as another character played my Pam Grier. He was right. She came as Coffy! A mother that seeks revenge on the drug-dealers who turned her daughter into a junkie. Nick didn't understand the whole fascination with Pam Grier, but hey, as long as it was all in fun, right? Wondering about Screed attire, Nick asked, "What's with the hat, Screed?" Screed looked at him, as if insulted. "Don'ts ya know anythin' 'bouts tha 70s Funk Era, Defective Knighty? I'm Superfly I is!" That name Nick did recognize, but it was yet another film he had never seen. He was surprised that all of his friends knew so much about blaxploitation films. Then he regretted not ever going to the movies during that decade. "You a blaxploitation character too?" Nick asked Vachon, amazed at the size of the Spaniard's afro. "Nah, I couldn't think of any good characters that weren't already taken, so I'm just the guy from those Pure Funk commercials." "What about Shaft?" Nick quipped. With that question, the hired music guy, DJ Saucy Drew (a friend of the Evil Cousin that wanted to make a cameo in one of her stories), started one of the most familiar funk songs of the entire era... first the slow wah wah of the guitar. Then the smooth beat of the bass. Next the rest of the music enters as Schanke does, with the FoDs. Schanke starts to sing to the beat of the music from Shaft. "Who is the homicide dick that's a sex machine with all the chicks?" The FoDs work as back up, "Schanke!" "You're darn tootin'. Who is the man that would risk his neck for his partner Nick?" "Schanke!" "Who's the cat that won't cop out when there's souvlaki all about?" "Schanke!" "Right on!" "You see this dude Schanke is one bad mother--" "Shut your mouth." "But I'm talkin' about me." "Then we can dig it." The music faded and Schanke and the FoDs disappeared into the room full of party goers. Nick looked at Vachon. "Schanke took Shaft from you didn't he?" "Yep." Both men shrugged. Over the course of the evening, Nick danced and talked to some more people. It seemed that he was the only person that didn't come as an actually character from a lame movie with great funk music. And he started to feel bad about it. Why hadn't he thought to rent something before the party to get an idea of what to wear. Instead he just pulled out the leisure suit from his closet and put it on. Then he remembered that seeing LaCroix, and he had his typical Armani suit. No 70s-esque outfit at all. So he went and sat next to his master, shared a glass of bloodwine with him. Their conversation finally lead to the subject of what they came dressed as. "Well, I feel better that I'm not the only one that didn't come as some kind of character," Nick said to the ancient vampire. "What do you mean?" LaCroix asked. "Well, the way you are dressed. You didn't come as a funk icon." "My dear, Nicholas, just because I don't appear to an icon of that era, doesn't mean I didn't come in character." "Who are you supposed to be then?" "A gentleman that I believe goes by the name, Barry White." Nick was taken aback by that. "Barry White? Why Barry White?" "Because, Nicholas my boy, like Barry White, my voice can cause women to melt." LaCroix then gestured to the table of addicts across from them. All the woman sighed in unison at the sound of Nunkies voice. Turning back to face his master again, Nick accidentally spilled his glass of bloodwine on the carpet. "I can't win, can I?" He mumbled to himself, leaning down to pic up the glass. Upon looking up, Nick found himself looking straight into the face of the living dead sanitation engineer, Boyd. The zombie glared at the blonde vampire. "Bwains." --------------- The End, I think. Don't even ask about this story, because I don't know either. I want to thank Lora "The Lady T" for helping me come up with a title for this one. I also want to thank Cousin Mary for doing that one little bit of Screed-Speak translation. Send me feedback... it's what I live for! eviltiff@webcity.com or gugenhoffen@chickmail.com -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Get your free Canadian email address at http://mail.webcity.ca/ powered by OutBlaze