Jim Croce's List of Things It Would Be Imprudent to Do

Sometimes, when the stars are whiter than diamonds and the golden wheat fields are as black as the sky, Oz stops the van by the roadside and takes out his guitar. His fingers play riffs and runs of their own accord, and he wishes that Devon were there to sing with him because his own voice can't do justice to the music in his head. He'll play Dingo songs, mostly, or some Zeppelin, but occasionally he finds himself chording through more wistful songs, mouthing words he wants to forget. What we had should never have ended. I'll be dropping by...

Remembered Items Bid During an Apparently Drunken but Lucid Game of High Stakes Verbal "Trivia Poker," as Overheard During Observance of the Leonid Meteor Showers, High Atop Skyline Boulevard in the Hills of Oakland, California

The trouble was, he could actually obtain at least half of what he'd bid. Too drunk to stay strictly in the realms of imaginary or lost items, yet not drunk enough for anyone to forget precisely what had transpired. And there was little chance that Ethan wouldn't hold him precisely to his word. "Chicken, Ripper?" he'd inquire smoothly. "Because a unicorn's horn could be frightfully handy in the near future." No one had mentioned that Ethan would be there, when he'd promised a proper visit after dropping by so hastily in September. But he knows he would have gone anyway.

Robert Frost Greeting Cards

Spike's world ended in fire. Inside and out, he was burning, his soul glowing and expanding and him crumbling around the edges to let it out, to let it meet the light that was springing up around him. And when Buffy touched his hand, it blazed forth with a clear flame. After it was over, when the rest of them were safe on the bus, Buffy felt something stiff in her jacket pocket and pulled out a card. It bore a single phrase, in a familiar script. From what I've tasted of desire, I hold with those who favor fire.

Potential Titles for the Next Installment of the Harry Potter Series, as Co-Authored by Judy Blume

Wesley grasped the heavy book firmly in his hands, delegated by Fred to find something to read to Cordelia. The new Harry Potter should do, he thought. Then, But why stop there? We could read her the whole series. He opened his mouth to request all five Harry Potter books, but his mind raced on even as he formed the words. Then again, maybe something from her childhood would be better. It was too late for that, though, and he opened to the table of contents. "Tales of a Fourth Year Wizard? The Mouse and the Flying Motorcycle? What happened?"

Blind Items

There was only one thing that you really needed when you went blind, as Giles had discovered. His eyesight had failed him twice, and the same cure had sustained him until his vision returned. A bottle of high quality scotch. But after the first time, he'd realized that there was still an ingredient missing from this magical equation of blindness plus scotch, namely the ready availability of a another bottle of cheaper alcohol for once your taste-buds gave up and the first was empty. And after the second time, he added one more item to the list. A shatterproof tumbler.

The Quotable Bazooka Joe

Most kids that Oz knew had collections. Collections of baseball cards, stamp collections, boxes of old coins. Wendell, in the grade below him, had a spider collection. And Oz had a collection too, but not so much in a single and identifiable location. It was crumpled in various pockets, lining the seams of his backpack, and littered across the surfaces of his room. He collected Bazooka gum wrappers. There was something about the little comic strips that he loved, and he memorized the dialogue in class when he was bored. He's pretty sure it somehow shaped his outlook on life.

Items From the Neiman Marcus 2002 Christmas Book

Sometimes catalogues come in the mail. There are catalogues for sporting goods stores, maybe sent because years ago I gave Giles a tweed hat with earflaps for Christmas, and gardening catalogues with bright pictures of flowers that remind me of how Mom used to plant bulbs every spring. But one hefty tome arrives because of me alone. The Neiman Marcus Christmas Book. I haven't bought anything from them in ages, but they send it like clockwork. And this year, I see $65 for a tin of cookies, and all I can think of is how many Potentials that would feed.

Several Books Left in My Apartment Building's Laundry Room

Xander heaved another armful of clothes from the dryer and dumped them in the laundry basket. "Almost ready to fold," he told Anya, who was lounging on the bench behind him. As he was swinging the basket off the top of the machine, his eye caught on a small stack of books. The Tantric Guide to Sex, he read, and his eye continued downward and along the spine of The Story of O. The laundry almost fell from his hands. "Anya, look what I found!" he exclaimed. The ex-demon glanced over, bored. "Oh, that's where I left them," she said.

Crayola Crayons Included in Its New Hollywood Box

Everything's different in LA, thinks Xander. The bad part of town is several miles from the good part of town, and Starbucks has special summer offers that he feels strangely compelled to buy. When they go into Office Depot to buy organizational supplies, he glances briefly down the long row of assorted blueprint pads, then gives up and hides in the back-to-school section. There are pencils and fat markers and Harry Potter pencil cases, but he also spies a little eight color box of crayola crayons, which he surreptitiously opens. He's relieved to find that even LA has yellow crayons.

Vocabulary Words We Learned by Playing Dungeons & Dragons

"Look at this, it's totally cool!" Andrew sat up and brandished a battered leather volume at Jonathan, then poked at his friend's arm when there wasn't an immediate response. "What's totally cool?" Jonathan sounded slightly bored. "This book that Tucker lent me, it talks about glyphs and deliquescing and stuff. It's exactly like reading spells in the Wizard's Spell Compendium! And he says the spells really summon demons." "That's dee-liquescing, moron." But he pulled the book towards him to see. "Being a mage would be cool." He began leafing through the pages. "Are there any spells to make people taller?"

Selected Chapter Titles from Superb Virility of Manhood: Giving the Causes and Simple Home Methods of Curing the Weaknesses of Men, by Bernarr Macfadden, Physical Culture Publishing Company, New York, 1904

The soul was mortifying his flesh, a canker in his mind. Coming to America had been a poor escape, cowardly fleeing of responsibility, memory and shame. He had even roamed the sewers, praying to a God he didn't believe in that the tales of alligators might be true. His skin grew sticky in winter's cold, dead flesh unwarmed by the thin, tasteless bursts of rats' blood with which he sustained himself. Passing by a shop window, he read the title of a dark-jacketed book softly lit by gas lamps and laughed bitterly to himself. His impotence should never be cured.

The Wrong Mantras

On the plane from England, Wesley thought one thing, over and over. I'll prove myself here, father. Not two months later, he had failed. Later, hunting demons from the saddle of his motorcycle, a familiar phrase wormed its way into his mind. I must prove myself here. And when Angel took him in, the words pounded still more loudly in his skull. But a year later, when the Host seemed so unsurprised to hear of his promotion, the promotion his father had scorned, Wesley realized the words in his head had been wrong. I've found a new family, he thought.

Shoe-Lacing Methods

"Xander, your shoe's untied." The boy glanced up at his friend's voice, looked down again. "I know," he whispered. "But I don't know how to tie it." Willow perched next to him on the step. "That's OK, I'll show you how." Bending over, she took the laces and looped them around each other with exaggerated care. "See? Now you try." Xander replicated her movements, a shock of hair tumbling in his eyes as he bent his head, and succeeded in producing a sloppy but correctly-tied knot. "You did it!" Willow's jubilation smoothed away Xander's sudden, apprehensive fear of paternal response.

Suggestions from Baedeker's 1878 Traveller's Manual of Conversation

There were sounds of scrabbling outside the door, as of someone trying to insert their key into the lock too hastily to actually perform the necessary task. Presently, Xander dashed in, tossing his briefcase in the corner, unbuttoning his shirt as he ran. "Sorry! Rained on the blueprints!" he gasped as he barreled toward the bedroom. Anya eyed him with a certain amount of annoyance. "You are never punctual and always have very bad excuses to give." Xander paused in his mad dash and looked at her with a vague air of bewildered awe. "You say the strangest things, dear."

Signs on the Lawns of People Whose Lawns You May Want to Avoid

"Any ideas what kind of demon slices and dices and leaves really ragged edges?" Buffy inquired of her Watcher as she entered the Magic Box. The bell above the door jangled. Giles shook his head, frowning. "Nothing comes to mind that matches what you've described." He took off his glasses and wiped them absentmindedly. "Perhaps a trip to the scene of the, ah, slicing-and-dicing would be in order." Later, the Scoobies stood in an orderly line at the edge of a bright green lawn, into which was planted a sign that read, "This grass protected by Kaasaver demons. KEEP OFF."

Featured Menu Items at the Existentialist's Café

Sometimes he and Dru wait in the black shadows of the night, lurking at the fringes of well-lit society, luring away the unaccompanied men and women who wander past them. But Spike prefers to enter that society, or to sit among the patrons of Les Deux Magots, sip bitter coffee, and decide which dark and brooding existentialist he'll dine off tonight. It's a fun game, though never quite satisfying. When he mentions this to Dru, she smiles mysteriously and tells him that he won't find Daddy there because bitter tears have stolen him away. Spike tells her to shut up.

Tips from a Guide to the Computer Game "Phantasmagoria: A Puzzle of The Flesh."

"Look in the mirror again," Andrew told Warren excitedly. He got an exasperated sigh for his pains. "You know, some of us like to play computer games without having read all the cheats." Andrew looked disappointed. "But you'll see cool things. Like, scary monsters and stuff." "Not listening," was the answer. "But you can't finish the chapter if you don't look in the mirror again!" Now Andrew sounded worried instead of petulant. Warren sprang up from his chair, came threateningly towards Andrew. "And whose fault will that be, then?" Andrew closed his eyes, too softly whispered a hope-gilded word. "Mine."

Introducing the New Cereals

"Giles practically lives here, and there's still no sodding weetabix?" Spike stood in the doorway of the kitchen, holding a mug of blood and watching Buffy as she came down the stairs. He smirked as she clenched her jaw. "Spike." She came towards him. "I don't think you've been properly introduced to the joys of the new world." Ducking under his arm, she grabbed boxes of cereal from the island. "Shredded wheat. Twice the flavor, twice the crunch. Or cheerios, small and round like platelets. Lucky Charms. You'll like the little marshmallows." She thrust the cereals at him. "Stop complaining!"

Alternative Winter Olympics

It's snowing. Really snowing. Dawn sits by the window, knees tucked up under her chin, scrawny arms wrapped around gangly adolescent legs, and stares avidly at the delicate white flakes that drift, more slowly than can possibly be believed, from the leaden sky. Buffy has said that she will take Dawn ice-skating for Christmas morning, but she's been gone all night and not returned with what Dawn can only assuming is the morning; the heavy clouds have swallowed up any sign that Christmas Eve has shifted into day. So instead she draws stick-figure snowmen on the steamy windowpane. Merry Christmas.

How to Make Classic Chicken and Rice

It's all about the microwave. They both know that, and it creates a bond that survives past power struggles and pain and cold water being dumped over heads. So when Buffy and Giles take the potentials out to train, and Willow and Anya are discussing possible spells to weaken the First, and Spike has taken Dawn to see a movie, Xander and Andrew face each other over an empty poptart box, a list of instructions from Willow on how to cook dinner, and the charred remains of their valiant attempt. Eventually, Xander sighs. "Popcorn?" he offers tentatively. And Andrew smiles.

Tom Cruise's Smile, Circa December 2001

Buffy opened the refrigerator door, extracting a carton of milk and a jar of peanut butter. "Dawn, I'm patrolling tonight. You know that." The items in her hands were set on the counter and joined by strawberry jam. "But, Tom Cruise! Tom Cruise smile!" Dawn waved splayed hands dramatically at her sister, schooling her face into the best pleading expression she could manage. "Then see if Willow feels up to going." "Going where?" Willow leaned against the doorframe, her complexion vaguely reminiscent of pale chartreuse. Buffy sighed. "Vanilla Sky. You look awful, Wills." Dawn turned away defiantly. "Not with her."

Roman Emperors of Questionable Mental Health, Or Leafy Green Vegetables?

"That's a relief," Xander said as they entered the cafeteria. Willow glanced curiously at him. "What?" "Well, they've got nicely unambiguous carrots listed for the vegetables today. Yesterday they had cauliflower, and the day before it was Caesar salad." "Sound normal to me, Xander," Willow answered, then added thoughtfully, "Though they didn't taste normal." "Yeah, but wasn't Cauliflower also one of those crazy Roman emperors? And I know Caesar was something we heard about in history. Figured Mrs. Weinstock was trying to get the caf to do her dirty work of teaching." Willow giggled. "Xander, that was Caligula. Not Cauliflower."