Note: Back in November, 2003 I (Jess) posted a fanfic challenge to the Monty Python Wacky Fanfiction Society. The plot was a fic set during the Holy Grail filming, in which one of the Castle Anthrax girls becomes smitten with Michael. The rules were:

- One of the Pythons must say to Mike, "That's a nice bit o' fringe you got there, Mike!" Doesn't matter which one, as long as it's a Python.

- "Oh, shite!!" must be uttered by Graham at least once (although more than once would be more fun, lol)

- Eric must discover a hole in his tights, preferably in the crotch area...

- Jonesy... um... must order a cup of coffee, and spit it out violently when he discovers it's Ovaltine (or something similar)

- John must be grumbling about everything as usual, until Graham slips some "happy pills" into his coffee, and he ends up singing and dancing around the place like a ballerina.

And here is the wonderful story Cathy came up with:

"I am completely smitten with Michael Palin,” Sarah MacPherson said to her friend Cathy. “And he’s a married man. His son was even there one day for some small cameo. I feel like such a fool!”

“You’re not a fool, just, well, foolish,” Cathy answered with a wry smile.

"Yeah, but I can't help it."

“Sure you can. You’re done shooting, what, tomorrow? Then you’ll never see him again and you can ogle him from afar just like the rest of us.”

Sarah looked like she had no idea what to do with herself, something that is familiar to lovestruck teenagers the world over. “But how will I get through the whole day? He’s in every scene I am!”

“Don’t spend any time alone with him. You can’t get in trouble that way.”

“Alright, I’ll try my best, but I can’t promise anything. I’m madly in love!” The only reply Cathy had was an exaggerated eye-roll.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

The next day at filming, Sarah kept in mind what her friend had said. However, when she saw Mike and Terry Jones at the refreshments table, she couldn’t stop her feet from carrying her there. The man behind the table was serving water and sandwiches, and apparently Jonesy was very unhappy about it. His body language and the expression on his face told her that he was angry but his bellow of Welsh rage confirmed it beyond all doubt. “It’s seven in the bloody morning and you don’t have bloody coffee?!”

Mike rubbed Jonesy’s arm in a gesture half soothing, half ready to hold him back. “It’s alright. Don’t get worked up about it. I’ll send somebody to get you coffee.”

“But Mike, you shouldn’t have to do that! They should have some bloody coffee here!”

Mike mouthed “I’m sorry” to the man behind the table and then turned back to the enraged Python. “Gray isn’t in any scenes today. He’s only here because you told him he had to be. He can go into town and buy you some.”

“Alright, alright. But he better get it right!” Jonesy stormed off in a rage.

“Wait! Terry! How do you want it?” Mike yelled at his retreating form.

"Black!" he replied without turning around.

“Yeah, Gray’ll have trouble getting that right,” Mike mumbled to himself. He walked over to Graham, who was reclining against a tree with a beverage.

Sarah watched all of this transpire in mute fascination. She decided to follow and watch Mike and Graham discreetly.

“Gray, I have a favor to ask you. Would you mind going into town to get Jonesy some coffee?”

“Oh, shite! Do I have to?” Gray asked, squinting his eyes.

“Yes, or otherwise we all of us will have to deal with a very cross Jonesy.”

“I see your point. But here, I have some coffee right here.”

“Do you? Would you mind if I gave it to Jonesy?” Mike asked, reaching for the cup.

“No, go ahead.” Mike took it from his hands and turned to walk away when Graham remembered a very important thing. “Oh, it’s ‘special Irish coffee.’ I hope he doesn’t mind.”

“’Special Irish coffee’? In other words, it’s got alcohol in it.”

"Yes. That won't be a problem, will it?"

Mike sighed. “He wants straight, black coffee. Can you please go into town and get it for him?”

“Okay, no problem. But, can you get someone else to drive?”

Sarah bit her lip to keep from laughing and slunk away.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Sarah sat with the other extras preparing for the “Big Rescue Scene” in the Castle Anthrax. Almost an hour had passed, but Terry Gilliam was still messing with the camera trying to get the perfect shot. John Cleese stood off to the side, grumbling as usual about the dampness and the waiting. “It’s too bloody cold and damp for us to be out here! Why couldn’t we wait until it bloody warms up? Terry doesn’t need us here to bloody play around with his bloody camera!” No one even noticed anymore. They were all used to the complaining; it was all a part of the day, just as setting up the cameras and getting into costumes were parts.

“You think it’s so bloody bad out here? At least you don’t have a hole in your tights!” Eric Idle yelled. He walked over to John to prove his point. “Just look! A hole, right here of all places!” He pointed to his crotch, where a sizable hole was completely visible.

“At least you’re wearing underwear,” John said with relief. He sipped the coffee he had gotten from the hotel before driving to the taping.

“Ready, John?” Jonesy asked in a sort of not-really-asking kind of way.

“As ready as I’ll ever be in this dump,” he mumbled under his breath as he sat his coffee on the table.

Graham sidled up to Eric as John began his “rescue scene.” “Nice tights, Eric. They suit you.”

Eric laughed. "Thanks, Gray."

“Is this John’s coffee?” he asked, pointing at the cup on the table.

"Yes, it is. Why?"

“No reason,” he answered while taking out a medicine bottle. “None at all.” He slipped something into the cup and then discreetly made his way back to his favorite tree.

Eric had watched Graham’s little trick out of the corner of his eye. “This should be good.” He smiled a delicious little smile, knowing that whatever Graham had done would definitely make the day a little brighter, despite the gray clouds overhead.

Sarah, however, had not seen any of it. She was mentally steeling herself for her scene. She knew that if she didn’t prepare herself, she would end up gaping at Mike like an idiot.

The scene was over more quickly than she had expected. She would never see Mike in person again. Of course, he had no idea who she was. He had told her good morning once, but other than that they had never spoken. At the time, she had been nearly swooning and managed to choke out something that resembled “you too.” Sometimes in her mind, she built it up to an entire conversation where they discussed politics and literature, and he was thoroughly impressed with her intelligence. At other times, she cringed at how nervous she had been, reducing the scene to her staring at him and opening her mouth wordlessly like a fish out of water.

She watched with a sigh like the type you hear in bad romantic movies as Mike approached Graham. “Did you get Jonesy’s coffee?”

“Sure did. I gave it to the man behind the refreshments table to keep warm. He put it on the little griller thing he keeps running for the sandwiches.”

"Good. Thanks, Graham."

“By the way, that’s a nice bit o’ fringe you got there, Mike!” Michael only smiled at the statement. Graham often liked to flirt with the other Pythons when he was in a good mood. It was a form of joking around for him. In addition, Mike knew his hair was messed up because of the scene he had just been in and the humidity.

Mike stopped at the table, grabbed the coffee, and ran over to give it to Terry J. He ran, rather than walked, because Terry was currently chewing Terry Gilliam out. Sarah continued watching Mike, but her attention for once was drawn from him. Terry spit the coffee out and threw the cup on the ground angrily. “This isn’t coffee! It’s Ovaltine! Why the bloody h*** is it Ovaltine?!”

Mike looked around in bewilderment until he saw Graham laughing his head off. “It was a joke from Gray, I think. Sorry, Terry.” By then, however, Terry was already gone on one of his infamous stormings off.

“No wonder this movie is taking so long! Jonesy’s always storming off!” John interjected into the silence. He took a sip of the coffee he had grabbed after the scene was over. “Mmm…tastes a little funny. It’s probably this bloody drizzle.” He put his hand out to catch the moisture.

“Oh, shite!” Graham yelled as Mike strode purposefully toward him. He knew he had been found out and was going to get a stern talking-to. Of course, there would be no yelling or fighting from “the nice Python,” but it did make one feel guilty. He usually projected disappointment rather than anger when he felt someone had wronged him or someone else, and it made one feel more awful than yelling ever would. He made his way to the Port-o-Potty and shut the door hurriedly. He was hoping to dodge the bullet until later.

Sarah, meanwhile, decided to stop at the refreshments table. She was thirsty and desperately trying to get her mind off Mike. Suddenly, she felt someone yank on her hair, not in a violent sort of way, but in a teasing, not-meant-to-hurt kind of way. She turned around, fully expecting to see Mike since she had had many dreams where he played around and flirted with her, but was surprised to see John instead. “Hello!” he said in a very loopy and uncharacteristic voice. “I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts. There they are standing in a row: big ones, small ones, some as big as your head!” He began singing this line over and over, getting on tiptoes and then attempting a pliet. He was unsuccessful and fell into the mud, much to the delight of all the Pythons.

“What? What’d I miss?” asked Graham, pushing the door to the Port-o-Potty open. He watched as John picked himself back up and begin spinning and skipping in some sort of frenzied impression of a ballerina. “Ah, the happy pills.” He smiled, watching the result of his prank on John.

“La la la laaa, la la la laaaa,” John sang to the tune of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. It was utterly tuneless, but was somehow beautiful when compared to the lack of coordination he displayed in his ballerina dancing.

"What a day," Sarah muttered, smiling.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

“So, how was your last day of filming?” Cathy asked Sarah. “Are you having Mikey withdrawal yet?”

“It was great. Some…interesting things happened. I’ll tell you about them after I get changed out of these wet clothes.” Sarah went into the bathroom and shut the door.

“Well, what about your undying love for Michael Palin? Do you feel your heart breaking in two?” Cathy teased from the other side of the bathroom door.

“No, I’m fine, really. Plus, Michael’s not the love of my life.”

“Really?” Cathy was shocked. She had been convinced that Sarah would obsess about missing him for months to come.

"Nope. John Cleese is."

“John Cleese? Why the change of heart?”

“Oh, you should have seen him dancing. So wild, so free…” Sarah sighed, a dreamy look on her face.

On the other side of the door, Cathy sighed as well, although hers was from exasperation. “Here we go again.”

The End