::The lights go low, and a hush comes over the audience.  For a few moments all is dark, but a spotlight moves off to the wings and with a few spattered claps from the crowd Mr. Spumoni emerges from stage right. He moves to the center of the stage and pauses, looking around to the crowd with a small smile::

 

Spumoni: The Golden Acorn award for Best Narrative goes each year to the Rangerphile writer who has accomplished an amazing task. Namely, that said Rangerphile has taken words and used them to make art, they have painted with linguistics.

 

::He throws his arms wide in emphasis::

 

Spumoni (chuckles): This is no easy task, as by their very nature alphanumeric symbols are at best only acceptable as a visual medium, the font used in their application notwithstanding.

 

::The audience is oddly silent. He coughs slightly, then the gray rat continues::

 

Spumoni: In creating a mental image worthy of the Golden Acorn for Best Narrative a Rangerphile must put all on the line and be willing to express an idea or image in ways that he or she could only barely imagine being within their faculties to, ummm… facilitate.

 

::He grins, as if about to share a great secret::

 

Spumoni: This is no easy task, as I am about to demonstrate…with the help of a special someone of course…”

 

::He motions to his left and from the wings on that side of the stage emerges Tammy, dressed in an attractive gown, the crowd responding to her presence. She blushes slightly, waves and crosses over to Spumoni, giving him a small polite hug::

 

Spumoni: Thank you! Now my dear, if you wouldn’t mind just standing in this exact spot…good! Now the rest should become obvious as we continue.

 

::Spumoni places the squirrel in a location just off to the stage right of center. As she meekly smiles and tries to keep her gown straight it suddenly dawns on the audience that this is no rehearsed skit and that Tammy is just as in the dark about Spumoni’s intentions as they are::

 

Spumoni: Now, gentlemen, if you would be so kind…

 

::At once the curtains rise up, revealing a huge Apple Studio Display monitor, and from some secret place below the stage comes an Apple iMac, the word processor program running on it simultaneously seen on the larger monitor::

 

::Tammy attempts to turn to see the sudden appearance of these items, but she is gently chided by Spumoni::

 

Spumoni: Ah, ah, ah, all will be revealed soon my dear! Now, if you would be so kind…

 

::Spumoni stands behind the keyboard of the iMac and in a hunt-and-peck fashion he types::

 

Tammy stood.

 

::Tammy, looking into the teleprompter, sees these words and takes a pose::

 

Spumoni: Aha! Very good! Now, we mix in some adjectives…

 

::The gray rat types once more::

 

Tammy stood resolutely.

 

::Tammy once again acts upon the orders, taking the proper pose, Spumoni humming with approval::

 

Spumoni: Very good! Now for a setting!

 

::Once again he types::

 

Tammy stood resolutely in the Mediterranean sun, the warm light bringing stark relief to her features.

 

::From beyond the highest reaches of the seats comes suddenly the rays of a yellow sun, artificial for sure, but close enough to paint the squirrel with such color that in her repose the heart of every Tammyphile in the room swells. The audience claps for her as she quickly adapts to the new situation::

 

Spumoni: Very good! Good indeed! Yes…

 

::Soon though he is hunting-and-pecking at the keyboard, staring over the rim of his glasses at the screen::

 

Tammy stood resolutely in the Mediterranean sun, the warm light bringing stark relief to her features, the rays glinting off her spear and sword, the heat sinking beneath her armor.

 

::The audience stops clapping.  At once black suited stagehands appear and wrap Tammy in classical era armor and throw ancient armaments into her paws. The sudden look of shock on her face passes to Spumoni.  The rat turns to the squirrel, still staring over his glasses::

Spumoni: Now now, keep to the text if you will please.

 

::Tammy, suddenly alone again, recovers her composure. Spumoni types again::

 

Tammy stood resolutely in the Mediterranean sun, the warm light bringing stark relief to her features, the rays glinting off her spear and sword, the heat sinking beneath her armor. The breath of the three hundred Spartan warriors at her back steaming in her fur, the stink of their sweat filling her nostrils, the noise of their battle cries ringing in her ears like the thunder of enraged pagan gods.

 

::At once three hundred Spartan warriors swarm the stage. They array themselves around Tammy as if she were their war queen, each one braying in archaic Greek one of a thousand unpleasant insults upon the enemies of their surprised leader::

 

::Speaking of which, Spumoni types again::

 

Tammy stood resolutely in the Mediterranean sun, the warm light bringing stark relief to her features, the rays glinting off her spear and sword, the heat sinking beneath her armor. The breath of the three hundred Spartan warriors at her back steaming in her fur, the stink of their sweat filling her nostrils, the noise of their battle cries ringing in her ears like the thunder of enraged pagan gods.

 

As they stand, on comes the Persian Army, draped in fine robes stained with the soil of one hundred nations, coming forth in a wall of dust and the remorseless thundering of hooves.

 

::Amid the audience comes the prophesied army of a time long passed, the consuming choking dust mixing with the noise of a coming conflict filling the hall. Spumoni, hardly noticing, types once more::

 

Tammy stood resolutely in the Mediterranean sun, the warm light bringing stark relief to her features, the rays glinting off her spear and sword, the heat sinking beneath her armor. The breath of the three hundred Spartan warriors at her back steaming in her fur, the stink of their sweat filling her nostrils, the noise of their battle cries ringing in her ears like the thunder of enraged pagan gods.

 

As they stand on comes the Persian Army, draped in fine robes stained with the soil of one hundred nations, coming forth in a wall of dust and the remorseless thundering of hooves.

 

No fear and no regret are seen on the face of the queen, and in one swift motion and a cry of power she sends forth her ranks into the battle, and death flowed out among them.

 

::Tammy can barely move, yet somehow she finds the strength to lift the sword, and with an “eep” escaping her lips the Spartan warriors rush forward into the spears of the Persians::

 

::Yet at once it all stops—the Persians turn away, the Spartans filter out of Rockefeller Center into the streets of New York City with some small sounds of disappointment; the stagehands remove the weaponry and armor from Tammy (who remains in her position in shock)::

 

::All in the audience look up to Spumoni, and there on the screen they see that much of the wording has disappeared, and that the grey rat has his claw on the “Delete” key. All that remains are two words::

 

Tammy stood.

 

::Spumoni bows to the crowd and moves to Tammy::

 

Spumoni: Very well done Ms. Squirrel! Very well done indeed! Of course the way to a truly great narrative is through revision and editing…so the winner of this year's Golden Acorn Award is someone who has surpassed my own meager abilities. Why don’t you tell them which Rangerphile has accomplished this level of mastery, Tammy?

 

::Tammy, still holding her “to battle” position out of shock, only squeaks.  Spumoni rubs his chin and walks back over to his iMac and types once more::

 

Tammy stood, bewildered and confused.

 

::He shakes his head then continues::

 

Spumoni: The nominees for Best Narrative are…The Wedding Scene from A Day to Remember, A Night They’d Like to Forget by Neal_Wolf!

 

Spumoni: Would anyone out there like to be written into a wedding scene with Ms. Squirrel? Hmmm…

 

::Spumoni ignores the paws that shoot up and continues::

 

Spumoni: Rangerbirds are GO! and Pensacola Rangers, both in their entire form, by Pensacola Ranger!

 

::Spumoni mulls the idea of writing Tammy as a pilot in the Blue Angels, but digresses. He begins to say the next nominee, but trips over the words::

 

Spumoni: The…hmmm…The Description of the New Café from The Rangerillion, The Rangerillion in its entirety, and also Chipmunks Standing in a Doorway…all of which are by yours truly…huh!

 

::He quickly continues on::

 

Spumoni: Stainless Steel Rat receives a nomination for Foxglove's Magic Mishaps – Tailspin, and more particularly his description of the Gadget-Wing operation.

 

::Tammy, now recovered from her shock, walks over to Spumoni and stares at him with her hands on her hips. He raises one eyebrow at her. She promptly wallops him with his own iMac, then completes the nominations::

 

Tammy: The final nominations go to Midnight Man for his Description of the Theater from Diamonds in the Desert, as well as for Diamonds in the Desert altogether. Wow, that’s quite the field!

 

::Tammy rummages through Spu’s coat pocket and finds the envelope::

 

Tammy: And the winner of the 2007 Golden Acorn Award for Best Narrative Description is given to…oh dear…

 

::She looks over her shoulder then to Indy on the wings, then back to the card::

 

Tammy: It’s…Mr. Spumoni for ‘The Rangerillion’!

 

::The crowd begins to clap as “Loser” by Beck once more begins to play over the audio system. She bounces back and forth in one place, as squirrels often do when confused, and then looks back to the still form of Spumoni, his iMac induced unconsciousness still holding sway over him::

 

::Tammy snaps her fingers and quickly gathers up the tall and largely immobile rat::

 

Tammy (lowering her voice): Oh, really?

 

::She hoists him up on her hip with great difficulty, impersonating his voice, and pretends to have his unresponsive form walk to the podium::

 

Tammy: Uh…great!

 

::Tammy tries to hold him up while trying to get the Golden Acorn to stay in his limp hand::

 

Tammy: This is…errr…like seven different types of awesome, and ummmits severely awesomish

 

::She tries to remember the rat’s stock phrases while using her fingers to move Spumoni’s lips.  By this point half the audience is in shocked horror while the other half is dying of laughter. Some seem to be mixing various amounts of either::

 

Tammy (in character): Well, errr…what else does he say…oh yeah!

 

::Then she does her poor Spumoni impersonation again::

 

Tammy: You guys all rock out loud. I loved writing The Rangerillion. Take it easy…err, trains? QE2? Upstate?

 

::Realizing she’s used up all she knows about him, she begins to drag him off the stage with Indy coming to help. This all to the applause of the audience::

 

::Yet to those watching, Spu seems to be coming too as he’s dragged away. He staggers to his feet and takes the Golden Acorn from Tammy, saluting the audience. As Spumoni completes his bows, he looks around for Tammy but doesn't see her at first.  Her inviting whistle causes him to turn in the right direction, where to his abject horror he sees she's seated at his iMac.  Tammy grins wide and types::

 

Spumoni is chased off the stage by the 300 Spartans, who all turn out to be Tammyphiles.

 

::The Spartans burst through the doors again, shouting and brandishing their spears and swords high as Spumoni grabs his award and runs for stage left as fast as his soldier-inspired legs will carry him::

 

::Tammy rises and curtsies politely to the audience as the Spartans pause just long enough to bow in prostration to her before taking up the chase again::