Spike sat down in his ratty old chair that he’d picked up at the dump one day and turned on the telly. He watched the adverts for a while nonchalantly until it was almost past two o’ clock.
“Oh, bloody hell, what’s the holdup?” he asked the telly aloud.
Finally a message flashed across the screen accompanied by a movie voice that was apparently deeply ashamed. “We’re sorry, but Passions will not be shown today.”
“What?! Why not?” Spike yelled.
“We… sort of lost today’s episode,” the telly admitted.
“Oh bollocks,” returned Spike.
“We show you instead the world premiere of Nocturnal Survivor: BtVS. Enjoy.”
“I will bloody well not enjoy. I wanted to enjoy Passions, but you brilliant lot lost the bloody…” Spike trailed off when he heard his own voice coming from a barrel on TV.
“Ow! Bleeding hell. Why am I the one in the barrel with the tribal flag? The end is sharp, and it keeps almost staking me.”
“…That can’t be good,” the vampire said. Then he shook his head hard and tried to block out the annoyed reply from whoever as he fumbled with the remote and tried to find something, anything, that wasn’t a) quite as weird, or b) quite as bad. He finally managed to press some buttons that made sense, and the channels changed.
A tinny theme song filled the room. Spike winced, but found himself unable to look away. The screen was pink with purple flowers all over the place, and a unicorn. It almost looked like something Harmony… would…
The message displayed on TV. Extreme Home Makeover: ♥ Harmony Edition! ♥
Spike blinked. “Is the entire bloody world on drugs? Why would anyone ever let Harmony have her own sodding show?”
The blonde vampire appeared on screen hugging a stuffed unicorn. She grinned at the camera. “Hi! My name’s Harmony, and this is… Strawberry!” she announced, making the unicorn wave at the camera.
Spike was still strangely unable to look away.
“Strawberry and I are here in this house. It looks pretty crappy… but that’s why we’re here! We’re going to make it… Harmony-tastic!” she said, and giggled. Spike forced himself to back slowly away from the telly, and eventually he was able to scramble away to the downstairs of his crypt. To no avail, though… he could still hear her grating voice.
“This wall is really blank… it looks like it could use a HORSIE!” she announced, and jumped up and down, clapping. “Okay, guys… make it pink, with little yellow stars around it… I want the horsie to really feel like it’s a part of the living room.” Her face took on a very sombre expression. “And if you block it off with a big TV or something, I’ll kill you.” Then she grinned and turned around. “Okay! Paint the rest of the room purple, and then replace all these icky CDs with something happy. No horsie should need to be subjected to…” she picked up one of the discs and wined. “…Spinal Tap. Hello? Not horsie music!” Then she paused. “Darn. Now I’m hungry.”
Spike decided he’d heard enough, and that he was going to be a man about it. He stormed out from under his crypt and pressed the channel button on the remote, holding it down until he got bored and it stopped on a completely miscellaneous channel. He sat back down.
“Welcome to Money Cents,” the TV punned.
Spike almost screamed with boredom. He was about to change the channel when…
“We’re here with independent shop owner Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins for some tips on how to retain your money, and even make more!”
“Yes, thank you. Hello, America. Here I am, on TV, because I have money,” she announced proudly.
The host laughed. Spike’s jaw dropped.
“That’s right. Now, how long have you been working at the Magic Box?”
“Oh, about a year. It’s fun there. People come, and they take your things, and leave money. I prefer the money to the objects, but hey, it takes all kinds, right?”
“…Right. Now, I hear that you… tripled your money from gambling online? Is that correct?”
“Oh, yes, absolutely. It’s all about common sense. It took me a couple of tries to get it right… I didn’t understand the purpose of the little numbers on the digital playing cards, but I now understand that they’re simply reflections of how many funny shapes are on the card in the first place.”
Spike couldn’t change the channel fast enough.
“There! Your house is all finished,” Harmony chirped. “You like it, right?”
Spike screamed as he dropped the remote.
The people who owned the house looked amongst each other and hesitated. “Gee,” Harmony said pointedly. “I sure am getting hungry…” The people finally nodded fervently. Harmony jumped up and clapped her hands again.
“Great! I knew you would.” She stepped forward and started circling them slowly. “But that doesn’t solve my little hunger issue…” she said, morphing into vamp face. “Although I am trying to stay away from eating people these days…” she hesitated. “Do you guys have a dog?”
Spike finally got hold of the clicker and flipped through channels again.
A soft violin began a slow tune. One word flashed across the screen.
“You’ve got to be sodding joking me,” Spike whispered.
Angel was on.
Spike watched in horror as various shots of Angel flashed across the screen. He was seriously considering staking himself at this point. He was about to finally just turn the telly off before two more words flashed on the screen.
Spike frowned. “Who in the bleeding hell is David Boreanaz?”
---
He sat up in bed with a great, unnecessary gasp. He looked around and realized that he was in the lower portion of his crypt. It was about five minutes before two in the afternoon.
He’d dreamed the whole thing.
He decided to erase the awful memory of such a terrible nightmare. He slipped on some pants and walked upstairs, grabbing a pint of blood. He sat down in his chair in front of the telly and clicked the on button of the remote.
After about ten minutes of commercials, Spike was getting impatient. Finally the screen went dark for a few seconds. “It’s about bloody time,” he told the TV.
“We’re sorry,” the TV apologized. “Passions will not be shown today.”
Spike’s eyes widened and he turned off the TV before it could say anything more.
A/N: My friend and I came up with this yesterday. Neither of us really know what we were thinking. Anyway, partial kudos to her.
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