Posted on Tuesday, 11 July 2000

It is universally acknowledged that a typo in chat often results in some very odd ideas.

Whatever the thoughts or intents of such a typer may be, the mistake is so well fixed in the minds of the other chatters that it is considered as rightful property of some one or other of them.

Colonel Fitzwilliam was riding along one night minding his own business, when he was set upon by a band of ruffians (also known as Tabbi), who vilely abused him, then ran off with two letters he carried upon his person.

It was some time before he regained consciousness. But when he did, it was to find that something was dreadfully wrong. At first he disbelieved his own eyes. But when he had pinched himself sharply, and blinked a few times, and found that things did not revert to their natural state, he screamed in fright. He looked down at himself again, hoping against hope that somehow things had changed, but they hadn't. And suddenly he realized that he no longer was the Colonel. No, my good friends. He was now...Colon Studmuffin.

This sort of change is highly improbable, as well as incredibly unbelievable, and so it was that Colon sat upon the ground, wondering what had happened to him. Now, he was not so incredibly changed from his normal appearance, you see. He still had two arms, and two legs, and even a face with two eyes, two ears, a nose, a mouth, and hair. What was different, though, and I hesitate to say it, was that he no longer had a body like normal human beings. No, he was now a large colon. A very nice-looking colon, of course, all healthy and pink, but nevertheless a colon.

After a while, the Colon decided that no good would be done by his sitting upon the ground, worrying about the state of his physical being. He had more pressing matters to attend to. He was on his way to Netherfield with a message for his cousin, Darcy. Mr. Bingley had just leased that estate a short while ago, and Darcy had gone as a friend.

He stood up and found his horse grazing in a field nearby. He was slightly surprised at first to find that the animal had not been taken by the ruffians. When he got closer, though, his surprise magnified fifteen times (or was it twenty; I can't remember). For there before him was not his horse-well, not exactly. It still had a head, and a tail, and four legs. The rest of it, though, was now a rather overlarge *rse.

After the Colon had gotten over his fear of the somewhat unusual animal, he climbed atop it (it was rather uncomfortable, but the Colon made do) and began to ride off in the direction he had been traveling-towards Netherfield. At long last, the Colon reined in his *rse and dismounted, then walked up to the door where he knocked succinctly.

The door was opened in a trice, and the Colon was shocked to suddenly find himself staring at two large cheeks. At first, he thought that someone was deliberately mooning him (which thought confused him, as he had no idea what "mooning" was), but then suddenly realized that he was actually looking at the butler. "Uh, I'm here for Mr. Darcy?" the Colon asked hesitantly.

The Butt ushered him in. "I will inquire if they are receiving," he said.

The Colon waited until the Butt returned and showed him into the drawing room, where two of the occupants were in the middle of a discussion.

"Perhaps that is not possible for anyone," said a rather large bone with Darcy's head atop it, sitting in a chair beside the fireplace. "But it has been the study of my life to avoid those parts which often expose a strong possibility of bleeding."

"Such as veins and arteries," replied the liver with brown hair and brown, fine eyes.

"Yes, Veins are a weakness indeed," replied the Fibula. "But Arteries, where there is a real superiority of oxygen, Arteries will always be under good regulation."

The liver turned to hide a smile, and spotted the Colon standing in the doorway. It was at this point that the Fibula noticed him also and stood with a smile, which quickly turned to a confused frown. "Is there anything wrong, Fitzwilliam?"

Colon was about to speak, then hesitated. "Well, dash it all, I completely forgot. What with being attacked, then being suddenly changed into a body pa-" he cut off short, then grinned, looking again at the other occupants of the room. "Never mind, I guess you wouldn't understand."

"You had a message for me?" the Fibula asked.

"Er..." began the Colon, "I don't remember precisely." He shook his head, bemused. "Well, perhaps if I rest awhile, it will come to me." He sat his colon-self down on one of the larger hairs in the room and began to think.

"Well," cried a large blob of something-the Colon couldn't identify it at first-that stood, or rather, plopped beside the liver, "shall we have some music?" She began to jiggle towards the piano, but was stopped by the sound of Fibula's voice.

"Forgive me, where are my manners? Fitzwilliam, you've met Miss Cartilage Bingley, of course?" At the other's nod, Fibula went on: "But I am absolutely certain you have never met Miss Eliverbeth Bennet, am I correct?" The Colon nodded again, and so civilities were exchanged. "And there, next Bingley, is her sister, Miss Brain Bennet."

The Colon bowed to the lady (though it was very hard to bend his colon), who nodded her cerebrum in acknowledgement. Suddenly, the sound of a carriage was heard outside. The blob of cartilage jiggled to the window and looked out. "I recognize the crest on the carriage," said Cartilage, "and it does not bode well, I assure you."

All eyes turned to the doorway as the Butt announced the next visitor: "Lady Capillary de Burp and Mr. William Coccyx."

The blood vessel oozed into the room, followed closely by the sniveling bone. "There you are, Nephew! I demand you marry my Hand."

The Fibula grimaced (as only a fibula can grimace) and replied, "I will not marry your daughter while have marrow in my bone. I wish to marry Miss Eliverbeth."

Lady Capillary gasped, as did the tailbone behind her. "Your ladyship is ever generous; your nephew could not have meant such a thing, I am sure, in the generosity of your blood, you will find the charity to forgive him, blah, blah, blah."

Liver was incensed. "I would not marry you for the world, you, you bonehead!"

The Fibula would have responded, but they were interrupted again as a blob of greenish-yellow ooze entered the room with the Butt, who announced: "Miss Charlotta Mucus."

"Liver," she said as she was greeted by her friend, "Your mother sent me to inform you that your youngest sister Chlamydia has run off with that villain George Wickhamstring."

"No!" cried Liver, shocked.

"Yes," said Charlotta sadly.

"No!"

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes."

"No!"

(ten minutes pass)

"No!"

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes."

The Liver sat down in a hair, shocked and suddenly rather exhausted. "I can't believe it. My own sister."

"Poor Chlamydia," said the Brain.

The Fibula stood unobtrusively and slipped out of a side door. A few moments later, the Cartilage at the window cried, "Look!"

Everyone rushed to the window (or oozed, as the case may be) and stared. "It's a bird!" cried someone.

"It's a funny-looking carriage with wings!" cried another.

"No! It's Superbone!" (da, da-ta daaaaaaaah!)

(Meanwhile, a small soap opera was taking place behind them)

"Miss Mucus, you are beyond words!" cried the Coccyx. "I cannot describe how you move my soul! But let me try. You are beautiful, and kind, and wonderful, and sweet, and sensitive, and a gentlewoman, and exactly what my noble patroness Lady Capillary de Burp would wish in my wife, and blah, blah, blah."

"Mr. Coccyx, you're too kind," said the snot, blushing a dull shade of greenish-red (which is an odd shade as the two usually clash, except at Christmas). "But would you get to the point?"

The Coccyx smiled. "But of course! Blah, blah, blah."

(ten minutes later)

"...Would you do me the greatest honor of becoming my wife?"

"Why, I'd love to, as long as you have money and will eventually gain Longbone."

Uh...we will now, instead of listen to Mr. Coccyx ramble about his joy at being accepted, look at the other, more interesting soap opera happening at this time:

"Miss Bennet?" said Bingley.

"Yes, Mr. Bingley?" replied the Brain.

"I was wondering if, well I know we have only known each other such a short time, but I was hoping that perhaps, if you would think...well, I wanted to ask you to marry me."

"Me? You want to marry me? Oh, Mr. Bingley!"

"Call me Carpals," he said with a silly grin on his handsome bone-head.

"And you can call me Brain," replied she with a smile. "I will marry you, Carpals."

They kissed each other for a while, yadda, yadda, yadda. But enough of them. Something more exciting was going on somewhere else:

"Your sister has been married," said Superbone (who looked suspiciously like the Fibula, except with glasses and slicked-back hair) to the Liver.

"Oh, Superbone! My hero!"

Superbone smiled smugly. "Yes, I know." And with a wave, he flew off into the sunset (then doubled back and tried to fly through one of the windows, but missed and hit the wall instead, so he simply walked in a side door).

The Fibula slipped into the room just as a knock came at the door. "I wonder who that could be?" mused he as he blended casually into the room.

The door opened, and a man in a blue uniform entered. "Singing telegram for Miss Liver Bennet," he said cheerfully.

The Liver stepped up. "I am she."

Liver, I know who Superbone is! La la la!
It is Mr. Darcy, isn't that funny? La la la!
Mrs. Gardiner, la, la, la!

The man clicked his heels and with a bow, left the room, leaving the others staring at the Fibula. He bowed his head. "Yes, it is I. But I believe I only thought of you when I helped your sister, Liver."

Liver collapsed onto another hair as she took in this information. The Fibula came over and knelt before her. "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were thirty minutes ago, tell me so at once."

"My feelings..." the Liver began, but was interrupted by the Colon: "Oh, just tell him you'll marry him, and be done."

"Yes, Fibula, I will marry you!" the Liver exclaimed happily.

Lady Capillary gasped. "Are the shoulder blades of Pemberley to be thus broken?"

"Yes, so get used to it," replied the Fibula, which sent the blood vessel off with a snirt of offense.

The Colon smiled. "So there shall be three weddings more, I take it?" Everyone nodded, and he shrugged. "Well, I still can't remember why I came, so I'm going back to London."

He left the newly engaged couples with much reluctance, and went outside to where his *rse was already waiting for him. He mounted and rode off down the road. He was not very far on his way to London when he was beset by a band of ruffians (also known as Tibia), who abused him vilely, then with a kiss, ran off after leaving the two letters they had stolen.

It was some time before he regained consciousness. But when he did, it was to find that he had returned to his normal self. At first he disbelieved his own eyes. But when he had pinched himself sharply, and blinked a few times, and found that things did not revert to their former state, he laughed happily, then stood up to remount his horse, only to find that this time, the ruffians had taken it. And the worst part is? He never did figure out why he had been going to Netherfield.