This is my little response to a discussion of the characterization issue on the SentinelAngst list. I was going to write something dark and angsty and evil, but instead the muse produced this. I think I've parodied just about everyone here, including myself and Warner Brothers cartoons.

The 3 Blairs

By CarolROI

Blair was late. He was normally late for many things, being that there were only twenty-four hours in a day for him to complete thirty-six hours worth of tasks, but he tried never to be late for anything regarding Jim. And now he was late for a stake-out.

Baby Blair was driving, having won the coin toss with Kick-Ass Blair. Canon Blair didn't even figure into the contest, since no one hardly writes for him these days, but he was along for the ride.

"Where are you going, you idiot? Why are you taking the short cut? You know bad things happen when we take the shortcut!" Kick-Ass complained.

"I'm taking the shortcut because we're late," Baby whined, "and I don't want to get punished by Stern Daddy Jim again. Last time we couldn't sit for a week."

"You oughta let me at Daddy Jim some time. I'll show him who's who and what for!" Kick-Ass punched the air.

Tha-wupity-tha-wupity-tha-wupity.

"What's that noise?" asked Canon Blair.

"Oh no! It's a flat tire! Whatever will we do?" moaned Baby. "Daddy Jim is going to be so upset!"

"And Blessed Protector Jim is going to be so worried. Yada, yada, yada. We'll just change the freaking tire," announced Canon Blair, tired of these two already. And they'd only been in the car five minutes.

They got out of the car and examined the tire. "Okay, Kick-Ass, you get the spare tire out and we'll have this done in no time. Baby, you call Jim and tell him we'll be late. Late-r."

Kick-Ass walked around to the back of the Volvo and opened the trunk. "Hey! Who didn't get the spare fixed? It's flat, too!" He glared around the trunk lid at the other two.

Baby Blair looked as if he was about to cry. "I forgot, okay? Just don't tell Daddy Jim, please!"

Canon Blair ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "Just call the auto club, okay? I know I paid the renewal."

Baby's lower lip trembled. "I can't, Blair! I can't call them!"

Kick-Ass snatched the cell phone from his hand. "Why not? The number's right here in memory." He saw the empty battery symbol in the bottom corner of the display. "You didn't charge the phone again, did you, Baby?"

Baby shook his head. "I forgot. It's hard for me to remember these things, and all the house rules, and how Daddy likes things just so--"

"Look, it's a nice neighborhood. We'll just walk up to one of these houses and ask them to call the auto club. It's not that difficult."

"I don't know. We should wait with the car. Then Jim can find us."

Kick-Ass grabbed their book bag from the front seat. "Come on, you wieners." Leading the way up to front door of the closest house with a light on, he rang the doorbell.

A few seconds later, it was opened by a beautiful brunette in a sheer, short, tight-fitting dress. "Well, well, well, what can I do for you gorgeous boys? I'm Psycho Babe."

Canon Blair cleared his throat and tried not to lose his eyeballs down her cleavage. "We have a flat tire. We would be eternally grateful if you could call the auto club for us, Ms. Babe."

"Sure, honey. Anything for a big heaping spoonful of sugar like yourself. Come on inside and warm up."

Baby Blair bounced into the house after her. "I think we should stay out here on the porch," said Canon Blair. "I don't think that flat tire was an accident."

Kick-Ass shook his head. "I'm here. It's perfectly safe." Grabbing Canon by the arm he dragged him into the house.

Once inside, Psycho Babe pulled a gun on them. "What lovely specimens you are. You'll fetch a high price on the white slave market."

Baby Blair hid behind a chair and began to cry again. Canon Blair tried to reason with her. "Look, Ms. Babe, you really don't want to do this--"

Kick-Ass whapped her with the book bag. Babe lost her balance and fell back against the stone fireplace. Her head hit the granite like an over ripe melon. She sank bonelessly to the floor.

"Who's the man? Who's the man?" Kick-Ass danced around the room.

"I wanna go home," whined Baby.

Canon Blair leaned over the body and checked for a pulse. "She's dead, you moron!"

"Oops," said Kick-Ass.

"This is bad. This is very bad. I wanna go home!"

"Kick-Ass, Baby, follow me!" The two Blairs followed Canon Blair out the back door. They crept down the alley and around to the end of the block in time to see a blue and white Ford pickup screech to a halt in front of Psycho Babe's house.

Jim Ellison got out of the truck and walked over to the Volvo. He kicked the flat tire, and poked the flat spare sitting by the curb. He looked around with his steely gaze. Like a hound on the scent, he sniffed the air, then he headed toward the house.

"Oh, no! It's Daddy Jim! He'll find out what we did!! Now we're going to get punished!" Baby started to blubber again.

Kick-Ass punched the air. "Let me at him, let me at him. I'm gonna kick his ass!"

Canon Blair smacked himself in the forehead. No wonder he ended up in so much trouble with these two around. "Come on," he hissed. "I have an idea." The three Blairs slunk away in the darkness.


Blessed Protector Jim glanced at his watch again. Blair was really late for the stakeout. It wasn't like him to not call if he was going to be late. "Blair's late," he announced to Canon Jim, who sat in the passenger seat of the Ford Explorer.

Canon Jim shrugged. "Blair's a big boy. He's damn near thirty. He can look after himself."

Blessed Protector Jim flexed his jaw. "I don't know. I just get this--*sense* that something's wrong."

The other Jim belched and scratched his stomach. "Don't start with the psychic connection thing again. You know that's a bunch of baloney." Whatever else he was going to say was drowned out by the sound of squealing tires.

Stern Daddy Jim pulled the '69 Ford up alongside the Explorer and rolled down the window. "We have some very naughty little boys on our hands."

"I knew it! I knew it! Blair's in trouble!"

Canon Jim yawned. "Naughty is a relative word to you, Daddy Jim. Is it left the milk out on the counter naughty, dug up the garden and cut the power line naughty, or something else?"

"Bashing an innocent woman's head in naughty." He slapped his hand against the steering wheel. "When I get my hands on him--"

"I'll hug him and squeeze him and tell him everything will be all right. And I'll pet him and pat him and rock him and dry his beautiful tears---"

"Jesus, the two of you are a couple of weirdoes." Canon Jim got out of the truck and walked over to the teal F150 and climbed in. "I'll bet you set this whole thing up, Daddy. It just smells of one of your *lessons*."

"Well, okay, maybe it was me. Maybe I did let the air out of the spare tire, and stick a nail in the one on the car. But we have got to teach those boys responsibility! They've got to learn to keep their car in running order, and their hair out of the shower drain, and to pick up their wet towels! And they have to quit picking up strange women! And children and dogs! Hell, we've got to chain them up in the loft to keep them safe!"

Blessed Protector Jim growled. "You lay one hand on Blair, just one finger and I'll--I'll--I'll report you for fictional character abuse!"

Canon Jim threw his hands up in exasperation, then started his truck and drove off. Just as he did, his cell phone rang. "Ellison!"

"Oh--Canon--Jim--I'm glad it's you--" The voice was high and breathy, just like Baby Blair's.

In the background, Jim could hear a couple other voices. "Christ, Baby! What'd I tell you! Don't ad lib! Just read the script!"

"Kick-Ass don't yell at him, he's trying--"

The high tear-soaked voice came again. "Jim--we--need--help. We are-- in--trouble." Baby sniffed loudly. "Meet us--at--the--old pier--at 7 o'clock." There was the sound of scuffling, paper rustling, and then the phone went dead.

Old pier, hmm? Jim threw the F150 into a sliding 180 and headed back the way he came.


Having received the same phone call as Canon Jim, Stern Daddy Jim and Blessed Protector Jim showed up at the pier at 7 o'clock as well. Armed to the teeth, ready to do battle with whatever harm had befallen their Blairs, they walked down the pier, feeling like the Earp brothers and Doc Holliday. Except they were at the waterfront in Cascade, WA and not the OK Corral in Tombstone, AZ. And neither of them were wearing spurs, or six shooters, and there wasn't a cow in sight. But other than that, it was just the same.

"Blair!" The three Jims chorused. "Oh, Chief, where are you?"

The three Blairs came out from where they were hiding. "Daddy Jim!" Baby wailed. "I'm so sorry, Daddy! I'll never, never, never, never, never even look at a woman again!" He flung himself at the Sentinel's feet. "I didn't want to go there, I didn't want to do it! It's all their fault!"

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Baby, but you know you're going to be punished anyway." Daddy began to take off his belt.

Kick-Ass Blair picked up a two by four and smacked Daddy Jim in the stomach with it. "Oh, no you don't! This is the last time you'll ever pick on me!"

Blessed Protector Jim scooped up tiny, thin-boned Baby Blair in his arms and proceeded to hug him and squeeze him and pet him and love him and rock him and dry his beautiful tears.

Canon Jim walked up to stand next to Canon Blair. Both men watched the other Jims and Blairs for a few minutes, as Kick-Ass Blair beat the stuffing out of Stern Daddy Jim, who, as it turned out, wasn't so big and bad when faced with a two by four. Blessed Protector Jim continued to fawn and coo over Baby Blair, who had buried his beautiful face in Blessed Protector Jim's strong, solid chest and was continuing to cry beautiful tears while making pleasant sobbing sounds.

"That's pretty sick," commented Canon Blair.

"Really twisted," replied Canon Jim. They both sighed.

"So, wanna go grab a pizza and shoot some pool?" Canon Blair asked.

"I've got two tickets to the Jags game," replied Canon Jim. He ruffled Canon Blair's hair. "And Simon wants to go fishing this weekend. How's that sound?"

They began to walk back up the pier. "Sounds great, Jim. About time we had a vacation away from those losers." He jerked his head in the direction of the other Jims and Blairs.

"My thoughts exactly. Think they'll miss us?"

"Nah, neither will the fanfic writers." Climbing into the truck, they drove off into the night.

The End
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