Um, so last night, did anybody else's blog. . .

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. . . burst into song?

The page just looks lyrics-heavy lately for some reason.

Everyone
stops and stares at [Buffy], then comes to life in a flurry of agreement,
talking over each other in their excitement to share. 
[And although I'm sure this was cool on the home theater sound system
(yes, I'm still bitter, shut the hell up), the 3" speaker on my tv made
most of the following sound like "Rhubarb."]

XANDER
Merciful
Zeus!

WILLOW
We thought it was just us!

GILES
Well, I sang but I had my
guitar at the hotel...

TARA
It was bizarre. We were talking and then it was
like-

BUFFY
Like you were in a musical!

GILES
That would explain the huge
backing orchestra I couldn't see and the synchronized dancing from the room
service chaps.

WILLOW
We did a whole duet about dish washing.

ANYA
And we
were arguing and then everything rhymed and there were harmonies and the
dance with coconuts.

WILLOW
There was an entire verse about the
cous-cous.

XANDER
It was very disturbing.


GILES
(to Buffy)
What did you
sing about?

BUFFY
(evasive)
I don't remember. But it seemed perfectly
normal.

XANDER
But disturbing and not the natural order of things. And do
you think it'll happen again?

GILES
I don't know. I should look into
it.

WILLOW
With the books.

TARA
Do we have any books on
this?

XANDER
Well, we just gotta break it down. Look at the factors before
it happens again because I for one-

GILES
(Æ)
I've got a theory,
That it's
a demon,
A dancing demon-
No, something isn't right there.

Why yes, the Once More, With Feeling soundtrack can be ordered from Amazon. Why do you ask?

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12 Comments

Aren't these lines just mostly filler?

Why yes, it did sound very, very cool.

. . . or we could just sit around and glare. . .

You know I love you and I invited you over to play with my tech toys whenever you made your way down here.

I'm still waiting.

"...you make me complete..."

I bet none of you are even working.

Now we're partyin'.

That's what it's all about.

Fine. I hope you burn. You *and* the little bit.

What is this thing you Earthmen call work?

Don't even think about yeehodeleeohdeleehihooing about lonely goatherds, if this is going to be a musical...

Work? We don't need no stinking work.

So. You're not staying, then?

We're looking up the text. The volume.

The volume-y text.

There is no get-a-room-iness about us at all.

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