From: Rayctate Subject: Re: ADRICS I've Awarded Lately: Best Reviews in radw Date: Wednesday, 10 May 2000 14:42 Robert Smith? wrote for the Adrics: >So, at the end of the day, I can only recommend Ray C. Tate's "Pick of the >Brown Bag" for this years' ADRIC award for the Best Reviews in >radw. Congratulations! The "Doctor Who" march trumpets from the speakers. The air spews out of Jim Mortimore's mouth. Ray let's out a girlish cry! He kisses his date--the lovely Daphne Ashbrook, oh, and he really meant that kiss. It wasn't just the heat of the moment. In fact later...No, that's far too much information. Ray dashes over the astonished but delighted folk in his row. He hops, leaps and scampers over outstretched authors' legs. He whips beneath a drunken John Blum's speeding fists. "But he doeshn't reviewsh!" Singing "Happy Feet," he tap dances out of the range of Marc Platt's poor sniper skills. Paul McGann, Matt Jacobs, Eric Roberts and Phil Segal high five him as he jogs down the aisle. Nick Walters puts on his possibly poison lipstick, holds out his arms and puckers up. As Ray turns the bend, he belts Mr. Walters in the chin. The stunned author smacks hard against the floor. Jim Mortimore's knife sinks, with a twang, deep into the wood grain of the podium. "Typical yank! All for sex and violence! You know what you need! A nice set of pumps! You hear me, boy!" Waving the sting from his hand and noting Mr. Walters' cribbing from "Bloom County," Ray glances over his shoulder. As he suspected, Mr. Walters, back on his feet, releases his anger with a well-aimed kick into the Gidgety softness of an innocent pillow. Ray snaps up the steps, shakes R.J. Smith's hand and hugs him. Ray drives his arm against Jim Mortimore's wrist. Ray holds up the award. Flashbulbs burst. To his amusement the award appears to be a gold-encrusted banana. He approaches the podium. Jim Mortimore raises his knife high. "I could say that you really, really like me, but that would be trite and unoriginal." Some of the audience laughs softly. Others pet their potatoes and grumble. Lowering his perceptions to that of a mere mortal, Jim Mortimore runs from the wings. A bullet ricochets off the microphone. "I think thank you sums it up best, but there are many other--no, scratch that--many people who should be recognized. I could not hold this award without my readers." A bullet hornets off the microphone. "It's nice to be appreciated." Jim Mortimore's knife spins in the air. Applause erupts. Potatoes drop to the floor. Ray is escorted off stage by his damn cute namesake--Ray from "Delta and the Bannermen." Jim Mortimore's stomach bludgens against Ray's steely fist. Ray returns to his seat. The lovely Daphne kisses his cheek, lays her head on his broad shoulder and squeezes his arm. He awaits patiently for the remaining Adrics to be announced. Ray rayctate@aol.com "I'm half-human, on my mother's side."--The eighth Doctor