Howdy! For those of you who have me on Author Alert…Sorry, this isn't a Transformers story. Yes, I know I have stories in need of continuation. Brain just isn't being cooperative. *sigh*

Instead, a few weeks back, Brain decided to watch Knight Rider. (The original series, that is, since I have the whole thing on DVD.) I'm about halfway through the series now, and Brain has been totally eaten by the world's most adorable black Trans Am while simultaneously deciding to drown itself in very cheesy 80s music and nothin' but very cheesy 80s music. Brain is in terrible danger, I fear…

So, the upshot is that I've got a big KR story in the works. Eighty-eight small-font pages and counting and not even close to done. Oy. Don't know if it's something I want to share, though. But, I also have this little idea, and I'm OK with sharing the results of it.

See, the way I figure it, there's lots of driving on that show that we, for dramatic purposes, don't see because it would A) be boring from a dramatic point of view and would B) take up time better left to, you know, a plot. But it got me thinking about what Michael and Kitt might talk about on the road, out of sheer boredom, if nothing else. (I live in the US Southwest, where much of the show is set. Let me tell you, there's lots of boring driving through long stretches of absolute nothingness to be done around these-here parts.) I thought it might be fun to come up with and write down some short (and for me, writing something short is nothing less than miraculous) snatches of time-killing, context-less conversations between the two characters.

This is intended to be the first of at least half a dozen. "Intended," I say, because I really don't know. The only thing I know is that I'm fickle and flighty. And that giant robots could totally re-eat Brain at any moment. That said, if you like this concept and have an idea you'd like to see me take a shot at, feel free to prompt me. I can't even remotely promise that I'll write it, but if what you say makes Brain spew something, I just might write down whatever it spews (and give you credit for the prompt, of course). I do have a few ideas for topics of discussion – some off-the-wall goofy, some Deadly Serious™, most somewhere in between – that are pecking at my neurons…but I can always use more. :)

Anyway, here you go.


Questions, Questions
(Or: In Which Kitt Is Confused and Michael Is Smug)

"Michael, may I ask you a question?" Kitt politely asked.

"If I say no," Michael responded good-naturedly, "does that mean you won't ask it?"

"No," Kitt answered, honest as always.

"Well, if you're ultimately going to ask the question whether or not I give you permission to ask it, then why on Earth do you bother to ask if you can ask it?" Michael wanted to know. "I mean, where's the logic in that, huh?" he added.

Kitt paused, giving the question some serious consideration.

"I suppose I do it because doing so is considered polite," he explained a few moments later, with a frown in his voice. "It's often considered rude to ask a question without first asking if you can ask one, particularly a personal one," he elaborated. "Although that does seem rather silly, now that I think about it…"

"Yes, it does, doesn't it?" Michael solemnly agreed.

"Especially because by asking to ask a question…you're already asking a question, so…"

"Absolutely," Michael agreed again, this time with a sage nod as Kitt's voice trailed off thoughtfully. "Quite the paradox, isn't it?"

"Yes," Kitt answered, distractedly.

"And the whole asking to ask a question thing…it's inefficient, too, don't you think?"

"Yes, Michael, I daresay that it is," Kitt replied. "It wastes time."

"And time is money," Michael agreed. "Or at least it's…something."

"Yes, it is," Kitt murmured. He was quiet for a mile or two, and then he decisively announced, "The next time I have something to ask, I won't ask if I can ask. I'll just…ask."

"Good," Michael said with an equally decisive and approving nod. "Glad we cleared that up."

"I am, too," Kitt replied, happily.

Silence reigned for at least twenty miles then, or at least it would have reigned had Michael not started to hum a wandering, mindless tune.

"So…" he prompted Kitt once he'd finished the spontaneous and simultaneous composition and performance of his little ditty. "What?"

"What?" Kitt asked Michael in turn, genuinely puzzled.

"What were you going to ask me?" Michael asked back.

There was a prolonged pause on Kitt's end of the conversation, long enough that Michael actually started to feel concerned.

"Kitt?" he prompted, frowning.

"I…forgot," Kitt admitted, the tone of his voice extremely perplexed.

And Michael smiled a self-satisfied and slightly evil little smile born of pure triumph and said, quietly, "Heh. Good."