Once upon a time in  the far off Oligarchy of Syndication, there lived a Really Old Guy.  This Really Old Guy lived for a time with the Queen Witch of the Universe, and though they had no children of their own, they were raising a young foundling child named Richie.  The Queen Witch and the Really Old Guy didn’t get along all that well, and one day she upped and left, taking a job at the far end of the universe, running the show.  But that is another story, for another time.

 Richie and his foster father lived by themselves for several years, and the Really Old Guy taught the youth as much as he could remember, but that was a mere drop in the bucket compared to all the things he had forgotten.  But the Really Old Guy began to long for more mature companionship, and one day he left the young Richie in the care of the family servants and went out looking for love.

 He returned not long after with a new companion of more suitable age, who became Richie’s stepfather, Kronos, and his unruly fosterlings, Caspistasia and Silacilla.  But seeing himself in the light of his new family, the Really Old Guy become morbid and introspective, finally wandering off in search of enlightenment and answers to the questions, Was he the ultimate evil, and if so, what could be done about it?

 Poor Richie was left in the care of his wicked stepfather and disturbing stepbrother, and subject to vast amounts of humiliation.  He was forced to be a sparring dummy for the pair, and subject to their constant demands for chickens, goats, and other livestock.  Richie didn’t know what happened with these animals, only cleaning up the remains and trying hard not to speculate.  He slept in a tiny room off the kitchen and simply tried to make the best of things.
 

 One day, a decree came round that the fabulous Princess Amanda was looking for new friends, and would be throwing a fabulous party, inviting all the eligible men in the land.  Casipstasia and Silacilla ran Richie ragged, sparring constantly with dreams of impression the beautiful Princess, whom everyone called Cut-purse behind her back. Richie wanted very badly to go as well, but the brothers only laughed at him and worked him all the harder.  Kronos finally said he might go if he finished cleaning the house from top to bottom and cleaned every weapon in the place.  Laughing, they left him with a bucket of soapy water and a pile of tarnished knives.

 Richie wiped the last of the polish from the final knife and tossed it into the pile with the others.  “About damned time.  And of course it’s so late now that I’ll never make the party.  Why the hell did I wind up with such a miserable life?  I can’t possibly have done anything bad enough to deserve this.”

 “You haven’t,” a voice said.  “It’s just tough luck sometimes.”

 Richie whirled around to see a handsome man leaning against he wall behind him.  He was tall, with dark hair and eyes.  “Who are you?”

 The man stepped forward, offering his hand.  “I’m Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod.  I’m here to help you.”

 “That’s certainly original.”

 “Oh, cut me some slack.  Can I help it if the author sees me as the solution to all your problems?” Mac groused.

 “Well, it’s not very forward thinking.  Why can’t I solve my own problems and become a better person for it?”

 “Because this is a bent fairy-tale, Rich.”

 Richie snickered.  “Talk about bent, Mr. ‘Fairy-Godmother.’”

 “Drop it, Richie,” MacLeod warned.  “Drop it right now.  And can we please get on with this?  There are other things I’d like to do tonight.”

 “Okay, okay.  Fine.  I want to go to Amanda’s party, but my clothes suck and I’d have to take the bus.”

 “Well, let’s see what we can do about that.”  Mac pulled his sword, and Richie backed up, eyes widening.

 “Don’t get too hasty here, Mac.”

 MacLeod sighed.  “Calm down.  The very fact that we’re having this conversation should prove that the whole ‘AAA’ debacle didn’t happen.”

 “Deep in denial, huh?”

 “Swimming in it, which is good for you, I might add.  So here’s the deal.  I set you up with some new clothes and some wheels, and you get your butt back here by midnight.  Understand?”

 “Awww, Mac, it’s Amanda’s party.  It’ll just be getting good at midnight.”

 “Look Rich, if it were just me, I’d say have a good time, but we’ve got a format here, and I’m trying to work in it, okay?”

 Richie sighed.  “Okay.  Midnight.  I got you.  So do I start hauling out the mice and pumpkins now?”

 “No.  This may be a fairy-tale, but it’s not Disney.”  Mac waved his katana, and a puff of stage-smoke appeared.  When it cleared, Richie found himself dressed in a pair of extremely nice slacks and an expensive silk shirt.

 “Uhm, no offense, Mac, but isn’t this a little more you than me?”

 “Probably, but we only have a limited amount of space for this story, so go with it.”  He waved the katana again, and a leather jacket was added to the ensemble.  “Better?”

 “Very nice.  Do I get the T-bird, too?”

 “Absolutely not.  You get that.” He pointed to the window.

 Richie went over to investigate.  In the driveway was parked a very expensive motorcycle.  “Oh, no way!  Cool!”

 He went out and ran his hands over it, taking note of the matching helmet and strapped-on sheath, complete with sword.  “This is too great for words, Mac.”

 MacLeod had followed him out.  “Just be careful, okay.  And keep an eye on that,” he said, tapping the sword hilt.  “I can’t believe you’re running  around these maniacs without your own sword.”

 “Aww, they’re not that bad here.  More for amusing color than any actual damage possibilities.”  He slipped on a pair of sunglasses.  “Thanks, Mac.  I mean it.”

 “Don’t worry about it.  Just be careful and have a good time.  And Rich, don’t lose your head.”

 “You bet, Mac.”  He slid the helmet on then mounted the motorcycle and roared off into the sunset.

 MacLeod shook his head.  “Kids.”  Then he vanished in another convenient puff of stage-smoke.
 
 

 The party at Amanda’s was in full swing when Richie arrived.  Parking the bike, he made his way inside, looking for Amanda.

 He found her holding court with a dozen guys, but when she caught sight of him, she stepped out of the ring and came over.

 He pecked her on the cheek.  “Hey, Amanda.”

 She smiled.  “Hey, yourself.  I didn’t think the Goat-Boys were going to let you out of the basement tonight.”

 “They weren’t.  Mac came by and did me a huge favor.”

 “Well, that’s Duncan all over.  I don’t suppose he mentioned if he was going to stop by?”

 “He didn’t say anything about it.  So how have you been, Princess Cut-purse?”

 She pouted elegantly.  “You’re going to hurt my feelings if you keep that up.”

 “Sorry.”  He kissed her other cheek to make up for it.  “So what have you been up to?”

 “Avoiding the Goat-Boys and listening to these silly boring men.”  She gave him an evaluating glance.  “You wouldn’t bore me, would you?”

 “No, ma’am.”

 She smiled again.  “Good.  Come over here and talk to me, then.”
 
 

 When he looked at a clock again, it was nearly 12, and he could hear the chimes gearing up to sound the hour.

 “Damn.  I have to run.  I had a great time, Amanda.”

 “So soon?  The night’s only half-over.”

 “Yeah, I know.  But I promised Mac.  We’re doing this bent fairy-tale thing, and I might turn into a kumquat or something if I don’t go.”

 “Well, okay.  Can I see you again?”

 “I don’t know.  The Goat-Boys keep me on a pretty short leash.  But I’d like to.”

 “Hmmm.  Well, we’ll think of something.”  She walked him out to his bike.  “I had a really good time tonight.”

 “Me, too.”  He kissed her quickly, then jumped on the bike and started it.  “I really have to go.  Mac’s going to have a whole herd of cattle.”

 “Wouldn’t that be sheep, darling?”  They both laughed, and then he roared away into the night.

 Something glittered in the starlight at Amanda’s feet, and she bent to retrieve it.  Somehow, Richie’s sword had fallen off the motorcycle.  “Hey, Richie!” she called, but he was already out of sight.  “Guess I’ll take it to him tomorrow.”
 
 

 Richie awoke the next morning to the sounds of shouting downstairs.

 “She liked me best!” Caspistatia yelled.

 “No, she didn’t.  She liked ME best!”  Silascilla retorted.

 Kronos drowned them both out.  “Shut up, both of you.  She never said a word to either of you.  She spent most of the night talking to someone else.”

 “Shall we kill him?” Silascilla asked.

 “I get to kill him,” Caspistatia called out.

 “No, I get to,” Silascilla insisted.  “I thought of it first.”

 “Idiots!  We don’t even know who it is, much less where he is to find him and kill him.”

 “Yoo-hoo, anybody home?”  he heard Amanda call.  “Richie dropped his sword last night as he was leaving, and I just wanted to-“  There was a squeak as she was cut off.  “That’s certainly not very social,” she said after a moment.

 “Oh, Richie,” Kronos called in a sing-song voice.  “Come down here.”

 “Hey, Fairy God-Mac or whatever,”  he whispered desperately.  “Now would be a really good time to show up.”

 “You sure you don’t want to work this out for yourself and become a better person for it?” Mac’s voice asked from behind him.

 Richie whirled to see Mac leaning against the wall.  “Where did you come from?”

 “You know, I’m not sure.  I don’t think I want to know, either.  Go downstairs and distract them, then wait for my signal, and get Amanda out of here, okay?”

 “Sure.  What are you planning?”

 “I don’t know yet.  Now go.”

 He went.  Silascilla had Amanda around the throat, knife pressed to her side.  “Whoa, whoa, guys, we can work this out,” Richie said.  “No need to get violent.  We can share her or something.”

 “You’re starting to piss me off here, Ryan,” she snapped.  “Ease up, you big gorilla.  I’m not going anywhere.”

 Kronos leered.  “Oh, I don’t know.  We might find you entertaining.”

 MacLeod’s voice rang down from balcony.  “Think again, Kronos.  Let her go.”

 “Who’s going to make me?” he sneered.  Then he felt  a cold brush of steel at the back of his neck.

 “I am.”

 Slowly he turned his head to see the long-missing Methos at the other end of the sword.  “Brother.  How good to see you.”

 “Don’t ‘brother’ me.  Tell him to release her, or it will be your head on the floor.”

 “You wouldn’t.”

 “Wouldn’t I?”

 Kronos measured the look in those implacable hazel eyes.  “Let her go, Silascilla.”

 “But-“

 “We can always get her back after we finish with MacLeod and the traitor.”

 “Richie, take Amanda and go,” MacLeod shouted, leaping from the balcony to the floor.

 Amanda grabbed Richie’s hand and pulled him toward the door.  “He doesn’t mean tomorrow, sweetie.”

 They ran outside and waited, then moments later heard four explosions, one after the other.  Several minutes passed, then Methos and MacLeod stumbled out the door.

 “How did you beat all of them?” Richie asked in awe.

 “Trade secret.”  MacLeod slapped something into Richie’s chest and he grabbed at it reflexively.  “Next time, keep a hold of your damned sword.”
 

Disclaimer Stuff:  I own nothing.  And I mean no disrespect to Disney, but they ruined the end of “The Little Mermaid.”  And you would not BELIEVE how violent the original Cinderella was.  We’re talking cutting off toes and stuff to fit into shoes.  What does THAT say about the Western concept of beauty, huh?