Disclaimer: I don't own Ash. If you need me to tell you this, you're in sorrier shape than I originally thought.
If I did have an Ash all my own, I would be much gentler with him than Raimi is.
Oh yes, so very gentle -wiggles eyebrows-
I'm not crazy. No matter what they tell you, let me assure you that I'm completely sane.
My story is far fetched, yeah, ok, I admit that, but it is true.
You see, I could have been king.
No, no, don't look at me like I'm nuts. I'm tellin' the truth here.
Oh, bored indifference...that's so much better than looking at me like I've lost my marbles. Wait until you've heard the whole story before you pass judgment, alright?
Alright. Here goes.
I could have been king.
There I was, in the middle ages. Offered a crown, a country...beautiful women spread out as far as the eye could see.
Everything a guy could ask for and then some.
And oh, trust me, it was 'and then some'...you should've seen some of those hand maidens.
You remember those old Tex Avery cartoons with that hot redhead? Pretty damn close approximation of the action running around in that town, lemme tell ya...and the-
Never mind. Let's just say that there were beautiful women lined up waitin' for me and leave it at that.
And that's in addition to the offer of an entire kingdom and the undying loyalty of droves of peasants, knights and not-so-wise men alike.
I would've deserved it, you know that? After all the hell I went through with that damn book, it woulda been quid pro quo if I had taken the throne and ruled.
I would have been a great king, what with my knowledge of modern government and democracy and things like that. My kingdom would have gone down in history as one of the best, brightest, and most technologically advanced of it's time. They would have written books about me. With those fancy little etched thingies for illustrations.
Come to think of it, 'King Ash the Great' is an excellent title for a novel. If I were to ever sell my story to a publisher, that's what I'd go with. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?
There's that skeptical look again. Stop that. It could happen. There's probably a billion women out there waiting to read a historical romance with yours truly in the title role.
After the rights were sold and the book was a smash success, some Hollywood mogul would have made a movie or two with someone dashing playing me...
Nah...nobody in the world could do me justice.
Well, maybe Bruce Campbell...but he'd have to have a lot of work done to get up to my level.
Where was I?
Oh, right. I would have been the best king this planet had ever seen, but I decided to take the high road and go back to where I came from, back to where I belong.
Of course, that didn't go quite as planned.
I wonder how many things in my life I can claim have gone 'according to plan'.
I'm batting about five, right now, I think.
Oh sure, now you look like you believe me.
Ouch, my pride. The second I hint at my losing streak you're all ears. That's great for my ego you know.
But I'm getting off track again. That seems to happen a lot these days. Anyways, old spinach chin sent me back to my own time so I could live out the rest of my days in peace where I was meant to be.
Back to Michigan, the S-Mart and my nice quiet housewares department, where the most exciting thing to happen is an occasional toaster oven explosion.
I had nothing to do with that, by the way. Regardless of what that little weasel Ted told you. It was not my idea to make mini pizzas while we were on the clock.
And I didn't leave an oven mitt in there causing a fire to break out either.
There seem to be lots of rumors circulating about my behavior at work lately, you know that?
For the record, I did not shoot up the place, kill an innocent bystander and then try to force myself on a female coworker.
Well, ok, I kinda did end up shooting up the place, but the other two parts of that particular rumor are totally untrue.
As for the coworker...well, I didn't hear any complaints.
And that was no 'innocent bystander'. That was a deadite hell bent on-
Don't shake your head at me, I am not a sad, pathetic little man with an overactive imagination. I could have been king!
"He's talking to himself again," Perre the janitor said, staring in through the small, square Plexiglas observation window in the door, beneath which was a small plaque reading 'Williams'. He watched with interest as Ash wriggled inside his straight jacket against the white padded wall, his lips moving all the while as he recounted the horrors and the glory that he had found throughout his many travels to an audience who wasn't there.
"That's to be expected, Mister Tattorb," the woman who was standing nearby replied, flipping through chart after chart on her clip board, skimming each before dismissing it and moving on to the next. She withdrew a pen from the pocket of her lab coat and scribbled momentarily on the chart belonging to the man whose cell she was standing in front of before she slid the pen back to it's rightful place.
Perre turned to look at her for a moment, "You think he really believes all that stuff he's sayin', Doctor Masi?"
"Call me Mira, Perre," she said before indicating the window with a wave of her hand, "And of course he believes it. He's delusional. Delusional people always have unshakeable faith in their delusions."
The old janitor shuffled his feet a bit and peeked back through the window, pity in his gaze, "You know, sometimes when I listen to him, I actually believe some of the stuff he says."
For the first time in several minutes, the doctor looked up and stared straight at the janitor. She tilted her head slightly to the left and looked at him appraisingly, "Really? And why is that?"
"I dunno," he replied with his white moustache twitching as he gave the wide broom in his hand a distracted push, "He just seems so genuine, is all. So passionate and sure that it's real."
The doctor laughed lightly before patting the old man on the back, "Oh, he's passionate alright."
A snap echoed through the empty hallway, the sound so sudden and sharp that it cut through the silence with deafening intensity and the old janitor dropped face first onto the floor, his neck snapped in half like a stick of celery.
The doctor's eyes traveled from Perre's body back up to the observation window. She took another step towards it and placed her hand on the Plexiglas, eyes alight and voice lowered to an unhealthy sounding rasp.
"Passionate, and you have no idea just how genuine."
A/N: This turned out...different than I thought it would. This stupid thing managed to evolve and change on me as I wrote it. Originally, it was just going to end with someone banging on the wall, shouting at Ash to just shut up, then it almost became a Batman crossover (I thought about making it Arkham Asylum...whee, wouldn't that have been fun? Joker and Ash in the same building...dear God what a mess) and finally it turned into this...whatever it is.
It's got an open ending so I suppose if I ever wanted to continue it I could do so quite easily, but I'm not sure I want to. I'm antsy that I didn't get Ash's voice right. There are parts where I can just hear him saying the lines and then there are other parts where I just hear myself trying to be smarmy. Gah. It's actually kinda traumatic to write him because I love him so much and hate the idea of making him out of character.
I don't know... should it continue? Yes? No? Ideas?
One final note: The names Mira Masi and Perre Tattorb are anagrams. Anyone intimately familiar with the ED series should be able to figure out what they're anagrams of.
I am such a fangirl. -face palm- Viva La Ash!