What the world needs now is crack, sweet crack...
Do we need more insightful discussion about the political or financial situation right now? Or do we need crackfic based on bizarre shoujo manga and campy 60's television shows?
Yeah, that's what I think, too.
mPrice gave me part of the idea for this one. And while I'm making acknowledgements: Grey_Bard betaed the first installment, ink_n_imp egged me on when I told her the idea a few weeks ago, and HeatherSparrows confirmed that Europeans have also been exposed to this cracktastic TV show and so would not read this and be reduced to blinking baffled at the screen. Thank you all!
Oh, and Marg, could I get a series tag for this? ^-^
~Kadorienne
The Major thought it was a waste of time for the Kunstmuseum to want to borrow some of his family's paintings, but loaning them was simply proper behavior for a family of the Eberbach's standing. Consequently, he left the office in the middle of the day with Z to help him pack the blasted things up. Family heirlooms couldn't be entrusted to just anyone.
When they reached the Schloss, they were already proceeding into the gallery when the butler appeared, his face a study in anxiety. Klaus let Z go on in as he went to learn what the problem was.
"Ehm, sir," Conrad almost stammered, "Eroica decided to… improve the gallery."
These words released more adrenaline than the sight of a Russian pointing a gun at him. Conrad was the only other person who knew about Eroica; his loyalty was unquestioned, and there was in any case no way to conceal it from him.
The Major hurried to the door of the gallery in time to see a shell-shocked Z emerge.
The damned genie was going to addle what few wits his youngest agent had. "Sit down," the Major ordered, pointing to the nearest chair. "Conrad, get him some water. No, brandy." Leaving Z to Conrad's care, Klaus charged into the gallery.
And stopped just inside. Despite Conrad's warning, he hadn't been at all prepared. Right in front of him was Michaelangelo's David. The gallery was now an incredibly vast room. The entire Schloss could have fit into it at least twice. Beyond the David was Rodin's Thinker, the Mona Lisa, and dozens of other statues and paintings Klaus couldn't possibly have named, but he knew they were classics; he had seen them on postcards and stuff.
For the next three minutes he gave a masterful display of polylingual obscenity at high volume. When he stopped to gasp for breath, his chest tight (the genie was going to bring on his guaranteed eventual heart attack early), his genie was standing before him, in a costume the color of his robin's-egg eyes, looking puzzled.
"But… does your new collection not please you, Master?" Eroica asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
Klaus's response was a roar of fury. His arm shot out to seize Eroica, but the genie sensibly dematerialized and the Major was left gripping thin air. When his rage-clouded vision cleared, Eroica was perched on the David's shoulder, looking down at him worriedly.
"If you were human for just five minutes, I'd show you how much this pleases me," Klaus yelled up at him.
"Oh, very well." Eroica folded his arms and bobbed his head. An instant later the Eberbach collection was back, the Man In Purple presiding over it as he had for centuries. It was the first time Klaus had ever been happy to see the wretched thing, though the thousandth that he had wished his ancestor had had more seemly taste in clothing. Purple pumpkin pants! What had Tyrian been thinking?
"Keep it this way," Klaus growled, and stalked out. Z was still sitting down, dabbing at his face with a damp handkerchief. There was nothing for it but to act as if everything were normal, even though nothing had been normal since the day Klaus had found that bottle. "On your feet, Z," he barked, and the still dazed agent obeyed and followed him into the gallery as though it were a dungeon. When he saw the restored interior, he made a sort of gurgling noise, which the Major ignored.
Not so easily ignored was the well-dressed gentleman who was examining The Man In Purple with an appraising air. At least the genie was now wearing a tailored grey suit. And gold-wire-rimmed glasses, as if that would make his riotous hair and too-pretty face less flashy.
"I am Dorian Red, from the museum," Eroica explained to Z, who had stopped goggling at the gallery to goggle at Eroica. "I shall be travelling with the paintings to keep an eye on them."
Well, at least that would keep the genie out from underfoot for a couple of days.
Z surreptitiously straightened his tie and smoothed his hair. "Oh, that's excellent. I'm glad these great works will be in such capable hands."
Klaus grimaced at Z's babbling. The silly boy would flirt with anything goodlooking. "Z! Get over here and help me get this one down." The painting in question was six feet across.
"Yes, sir, sorry, sir." Z leapt to obey. When the canvas was down, Eroica murmured behind them, "You must be so strong."
Klaus turned, but before he could answer, he realized that Eroica was speaking to Z. And smiling at him. And looking him over the same way he had looked over the stupid painting.
Z smiled back hopefully. "I do have to keep in shape, what with being in the Army and all-"
"Go back to the office, Z," the Major cut in. "'Mr. Red' and I will finish with the paintings."
"Yes, sir," Z said, disappointed. He looked at Eroica. "Perhaps we'll see each other when the paintings-"
"*Now*, Z," the Major snapped. Chastened, the boy left, with a lingering look at Eroica. Which the nuisance of a genie did nothing to discourage, holding Z's gaze and all but fluttering his lashes.
As soon as the door was shut, Klaus ordered, "Stay away from that decent German boy!"
"Master!" The genie's delight was unholy. "You are *jealous*!"
"I am not," the Major grumbled.
As usual, his genie paid him no heed. "You know you are the only man for me, Master," he cooed, flinging his arms around Klaus's neck.
Klaus tried to shove Eroica away. "Verdammt! I have to pack up these paintings!"
Eroica bobbed his head, and the designated paintings vanished from the walls. "Where-" Klaus began, but Eroica assured him, "They are all safely packed in the crate outside, Master, just waiting for the truck to pick them up. Oh, you are so handsome when you are jealous!"
"Harrumph."
Yeah, that's what I think, too.
mPrice gave me part of the idea for this one. And while I'm making acknowledgements: Grey_Bard betaed the first installment, ink_n_imp egged me on when I told her the idea a few weeks ago, and HeatherSparrows confirmed that Europeans have also been exposed to this cracktastic TV show and so would not read this and be reduced to blinking baffled at the screen. Thank you all!
Oh, and Marg, could I get a series tag for this? ^-^
~Kadorienne
The Major thought it was a waste of time for the Kunstmuseum to want to borrow some of his family's paintings, but loaning them was simply proper behavior for a family of the Eberbach's standing. Consequently, he left the office in the middle of the day with Z to help him pack the blasted things up. Family heirlooms couldn't be entrusted to just anyone.
When they reached the Schloss, they were already proceeding into the gallery when the butler appeared, his face a study in anxiety. Klaus let Z go on in as he went to learn what the problem was.
"Ehm, sir," Conrad almost stammered, "Eroica decided to… improve the gallery."
These words released more adrenaline than the sight of a Russian pointing a gun at him. Conrad was the only other person who knew about Eroica; his loyalty was unquestioned, and there was in any case no way to conceal it from him.
The Major hurried to the door of the gallery in time to see a shell-shocked Z emerge.
The damned genie was going to addle what few wits his youngest agent had. "Sit down," the Major ordered, pointing to the nearest chair. "Conrad, get him some water. No, brandy." Leaving Z to Conrad's care, Klaus charged into the gallery.
And stopped just inside. Despite Conrad's warning, he hadn't been at all prepared. Right in front of him was Michaelangelo's David. The gallery was now an incredibly vast room. The entire Schloss could have fit into it at least twice. Beyond the David was Rodin's Thinker, the Mona Lisa, and dozens of other statues and paintings Klaus couldn't possibly have named, but he knew they were classics; he had seen them on postcards and stuff.
For the next three minutes he gave a masterful display of polylingual obscenity at high volume. When he stopped to gasp for breath, his chest tight (the genie was going to bring on his guaranteed eventual heart attack early), his genie was standing before him, in a costume the color of his robin's-egg eyes, looking puzzled.
"But… does your new collection not please you, Master?" Eroica asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
Klaus's response was a roar of fury. His arm shot out to seize Eroica, but the genie sensibly dematerialized and the Major was left gripping thin air. When his rage-clouded vision cleared, Eroica was perched on the David's shoulder, looking down at him worriedly.
"If you were human for just five minutes, I'd show you how much this pleases me," Klaus yelled up at him.
"Oh, very well." Eroica folded his arms and bobbed his head. An instant later the Eberbach collection was back, the Man In Purple presiding over it as he had for centuries. It was the first time Klaus had ever been happy to see the wretched thing, though the thousandth that he had wished his ancestor had had more seemly taste in clothing. Purple pumpkin pants! What had Tyrian been thinking?
"Keep it this way," Klaus growled, and stalked out. Z was still sitting down, dabbing at his face with a damp handkerchief. There was nothing for it but to act as if everything were normal, even though nothing had been normal since the day Klaus had found that bottle. "On your feet, Z," he barked, and the still dazed agent obeyed and followed him into the gallery as though it were a dungeon. When he saw the restored interior, he made a sort of gurgling noise, which the Major ignored.
Not so easily ignored was the well-dressed gentleman who was examining The Man In Purple with an appraising air. At least the genie was now wearing a tailored grey suit. And gold-wire-rimmed glasses, as if that would make his riotous hair and too-pretty face less flashy.
"I am Dorian Red, from the museum," Eroica explained to Z, who had stopped goggling at the gallery to goggle at Eroica. "I shall be travelling with the paintings to keep an eye on them."
Well, at least that would keep the genie out from underfoot for a couple of days.
Z surreptitiously straightened his tie and smoothed his hair. "Oh, that's excellent. I'm glad these great works will be in such capable hands."
Klaus grimaced at Z's babbling. The silly boy would flirt with anything goodlooking. "Z! Get over here and help me get this one down." The painting in question was six feet across.
"Yes, sir, sorry, sir." Z leapt to obey. When the canvas was down, Eroica murmured behind them, "You must be so strong."
Klaus turned, but before he could answer, he realized that Eroica was speaking to Z. And smiling at him. And looking him over the same way he had looked over the stupid painting.
Z smiled back hopefully. "I do have to keep in shape, what with being in the Army and all-"
"Go back to the office, Z," the Major cut in. "'Mr. Red' and I will finish with the paintings."
"Yes, sir," Z said, disappointed. He looked at Eroica. "Perhaps we'll see each other when the paintings-"
"*Now*, Z," the Major snapped. Chastened, the boy left, with a lingering look at Eroica. Which the nuisance of a genie did nothing to discourage, holding Z's gaze and all but fluttering his lashes.
As soon as the door was shut, Klaus ordered, "Stay away from that decent German boy!"
"Master!" The genie's delight was unholy. "You are *jealous*!"
"I am not," the Major grumbled.
As usual, his genie paid him no heed. "You know you are the only man for me, Master," he cooed, flinging his arms around Klaus's neck.
Klaus tried to shove Eroica away. "Verdammt! I have to pack up these paintings!"
Eroica bobbed his head, and the designated paintings vanished from the walls. "Where-" Klaus began, but Eroica assured him, "They are all safely packed in the crate outside, Master, just waiting for the truck to pick them up. Oh, you are so handsome when you are jealous!"
"Harrumph."