I suppose a bit of an author's note is in order; this is, after all, quite a strange story. This odd crossover was born from my Creative Writing class final, where our assignment was to write a three-person short one act in the style of Sartre's Huit Clos/No Exit using three fictional characters of our choosing. Although it's a play, I thought I'd go ahead and post it here, just for fun, and to fill the void in CWACOM/TSNOTD fanfiction. Though Tossie Merring, from Connie Willis' fantastic time travel novel To Say Nothing of the Dog, is quite a bit more obscure than Flint and Trelawney, I think it's possible to read the play with no prior knowledge of her. Just know that she's a rich Victorian airhead who loves cats in the most obnoxious way possible.
The stage is dark, just barely lit by a dim blue light. All is quiet until suddenly there's a rumbling sound from stage left that grows louder and louder until it sounds like rocks are overwhelming the offstage area. Someone yells, and there's one final boom. There are a few seconds of silence, and then a vague shadowy figure stumbles onto the stage.
MALE VOICE: Sam? Saaaaaam? Steve? Oh no…SAAAAAAAM!
The figure sighs and takes off some sort of backpack, muttering to himself. He digs through it and pulls something out with a size and shape similar to that of a music box. There's a click and a vague humming sound; the lights rise on the stage, and he sets the contraption down by the backpack. He's in a massive cave, rocky all around but with a relatively smooth floor. Stage left is blocked off by a large, messy rock pile unseen to the audience.
The young adult onstage is tall and lanky. He wears a long white lab coat over his nerdy t-shirt and jeans, and his hair is a mess. He expresses much of his emotion through his incredibly agile hands whenever he talks, moves, or does anything, really. He holds a pair of thick tortoiseshell glasses in one hand. A strange song begins to play from his backpack—his ringtone—and the figure begins rummaging for his cell phone.
CELL PHONE: Flint, you have a call. Flint you have a call! Flint, you have a call. Flint you have a call! Flint, you—[Flint answers the phone, a homemade vintage brick.]
FLINT: Hey, Sam! What? The earthquake? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Not a scratch. I still have your glasses in one piece, sorry I didn't get to clean them…where am I? Uhhhh…. [Flint slowly gasps and looks around in awe, eyes wide, mouth agape.] Oh wow. It's absolutely amazing! [He drops the phone and runs across the stage, giggling and talking to himself.] Look at this! It's perfect for my experiments! A table here, a computer there… [Runs back to his phone.] With a bit of cleaning it'll be a perfect lab for Sparkswood! …how am I going to get out? Oh yeah. Well, I know I'm out of rock antipolish, but don't you…oh, you don't have any left? Alright. Call Dad and let him know I put some extra in the sardine cans under the sofa before we left, you can meet him there and bring me some… yes, I know my house is in the middle of the forest…you can't see without your glasses? But you didn't wear them for years before we met! I'm sure Steve will help you there, although you might want to leave him at home, you know how he always tries to antipolish himself. You'll be fine…I promise! You'll—ahmybattery'salmostdeadloveyoubye! [He presses a button and puts the phone in his pocket. He fiddles with the glasses absentmindedly, sighing.] Sam…oh, Sam. Well, I'll see you in an hour or two. Might as well look around!
He begins walking around the stage, inspecting every little detail, frequently grinning or giggling when he finds something particularly satisfying, occasionally picking up the interesting rocks he finds. He's perked up considerably, but as the glasses are a constant reminder of whom he's missing right now, he tries to not look at them.