Prompt Reply
Hi, I'm a new member to the comm, but not new to writing fic. This is a response to the May-June prompt table, so enjoy the cracky goodness.
Title: Store Visit
Author: xandrew157
Characters: George, Mason, Daisy (no pairings)
Genres: humor, crack!fic
Rating: R (language befitting DLM)
Warnings: Swearing, violence to machines; spoilers for season 2 (the car, mention of Trip).
Summary: Response to Prompt #10 “George + Laundry Detergent. George goes to the store; Mason tags along. Just a piece of crack, nothing big.
Word Count: 1446
“What the fuck?” George shouted, kicking the washer. She’d finally decided to do some laundry after two weeks of Daisy refusing to do it for her, but the stupid thing wouldn’t work.
“Problems, Georgia?” asked Daisy, sitting in the living room. They’d had a double reap that afternoon, a really messy car accident. In fact, the arrogant blonde hadn’t even taken her blood-stained white dress off.
Fuming, the eighteen-year-old reaper glared at her roommate. “One, the stupid piece of shit isn’t working, and two, we don’t even have laundry detergent.”
“It was working fine yesterday when I did my delicates. Maybe something went wrong when you kicked it?”
“I kicked it because it wasn’t fucking working!” George retorted, coming into the living room and throwing herself down on the couch. “Now what am I going to do?”
The rhetorical question stayed that way as Mason broke his way into the house. When he was really drunk, the Brit didn’t bother with knocking.
“Hello, sweethearts,” he announced, staggering into the room. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, clearly indicative of a massive drinking binge, most likely accompanied by a variety of stolen drugs.
“Damn it, Mason, are you drunk again?” Daisy asked exasperatedly.
“Drunk, drunk, what’s in the word?” the man chanted, pulling out a flask. “I may be fucking wasted, but I’m doing just fine… got a whole functioning thing going on.”
George snorted. “You call that functioning. I’d call it shit-faced beyond the point of successfully using your basic motor skills.”
“I don’t know whether that was an insult or a compliment… because I don’t really know what that means.”
“Good.” George gave a huge, faux smile before putting on her shoes.
“What, do you have a reap?” Daisy asked, setting her drink down on the table. For all of the reprimands she handed to Mason, she herself had been downing cocktails for well over two hours.
Grunting with the exertion of shoving a shoe on her foot, George looked up. “I… need… laundry… fucking… detergent,” she said sarcastically, obviously still pissy. “And I don’t really want to deal with--”
“Can I come with you, Georgie? Please, please please please?”
“Why do you want to go to the store so badly? There’s not shit there.” His eagerness surprised George, though the weirdness was to be expected when Mason was like this.
Thinking, Mason paused a moment. “I need some toothpaste.”
Both women stopped all motion and looked at him in shock.
“You actually brush your teeth?” Daisy asked curiously. “Since when?”
“I’ve always valued dental hygiene,” Mason replied, acting a little offended. “I just
“And the grand prize in ‘ewww’ goes to Mason, yet again,” George said, getting up. Grabbing a hold of Mason’s jacket, she drug him out to her convertible. “If you’re coming with me, then get your ass in the car.”
*******
Weird, jazzy music filled the department store where the grim reapers had chosen to shop. Well, at least where George had chosen to shop.
Pushing the cart along dejectedly, Mason kept filling it with odd, random items, all of which George routinely emptied. Unknown to her, Mason had been grabbing drug ingredients. The man would do almost anything for money.
“Would you stop fucking grabbing all this shit?” George cursed, heading towards the laundry aisle. “God, all I came here for was some laundry detergent… is it so much to ask that you keep your grubby paws off the other merchandise?”
“Do you like this music?” Mason asked, now staring intently at the lights. “I think it bloody sucks.”
“Yeah, not a fan of… whatever,” George replied absentmindedly, finally reaching her destination.
“Gotcha,” she said, giving a loud “ha”.
They started towards the front of the store to check out, the cart rumbling along crookedly. Leaving it to Mason to choose their cart had been a mistake; he’d grabbed the first one available. It happened to have an inverted wheel. Focused on the goal at hand, George had ignored it.
The woman at the cash register looked at them with disdain, chewing a piece of gum loudly. Her hair was held in a ponytail, somewhat respectable, but it looked like it hadn’t been washed in a week. A stain on her plaid skirt indicated some level of unhygienic existence, while the area around her nose piercing seemed to be slightly infected. The color of lipstick she’d chosen clashed horribly with the rest of her appearance.
In short, she was like the identical female form of Mason.
Rummaging through his pocket, the male reaper fished out a crumpled up Post-it, squinting as he tried to read it. Ignoring him, the cashier rang up the laundry detergent and the few items Mason had gotten away with keeping.
“Excuse me, but are you A… A. Crawford?” The Brit could barely read Rube’s handwriting in his stupor.
The cashier-girl glared at him through thickly lined eyes, her jaw moving up and down, chewing the gum. “What’s it to you?” she asked. “You a cop or somethin’?”
“Or something,” George muttered under her breath. God damn it, Mason hadn’t said anything about a fucking Post-it. He could have at least mentioned it out of courtesy. Now she’d have to wait around for him to send whoever’s soul off on its merry way.
And why had Mason said he needed toothpaste? Was he just so high that he’d made up a shitty excuse like that?
“C’mon, just tell me,” Mason whined. “Then I’ll go, I’ll get out of your way…”
“Yeah, I’m her,” the girl answered reluctantly. She soon returned to looking bored.
Mason reached over the counter to touch her. The girl jumped backwards in disgust, but not before the reaper had managed to brush her bare skin. Normally, a reaper was supposed to be subtle
“Fuckin’ perv!” she screamed, not caring that he’d only touched her wrist. “Get outta here before I call the fucking cops!”
Grabbing her laundry detergent, George strode out of the store to sit in the car, Mason soon behind her. Despite needing to stick around for the girl’s soul, he didn’t want to be around for whatever killed her.
A dirty, ragged figure rushed past Mason as he waited outside of the department store. At this time of night, very few people were shopping, but he had the feeling that this was going to take a while.
Lucky for Mason and George, they only had to wait a few moments before a gunshot pierced the air outside.
“Well, that was fun,” joked Mason as he jumped over the car door, landing squarely in the passenger seat. “In a hold-up, edgy sort of way. Seriously, this fellow couldn’t take any lip at all, just shot the bird point-blank when she made some snarky comment about his bad taste in clothing. I mean--”
The revving of the convertible drowned out his ramblings as George drove home.
******
The pair walked into the house to find Daisy in the same position as they’d left her in; bottle of booze in one hand, the television remote in the other.
Standing in the foyer, George gave her roommate one of her best what-the-fuck-are-you-doing faces. “Did you do anything in the hour and a half that we were gone?”
The blonde nodded. “I called Rube. He came over and fixed the washing machine… go do your laundry.”
The consideration on Daisy’s part was warming, but George chose to ignore it overall. Showing a small bit of appreciation might lead to being walked all over in the future, so she decided to simply head towards the washing machine.
Pouring the detergent in with the odd mix of clothes, which weren’t separated by a recognizable system, George sighed with relief. Getting something done, even something this simple, seemed to be a major accomplishment these. Given her recent depression, courtesy of asshole Trip, everything seemed to be a bit harder to do.
Her sense of safety and achievement were soon shattered by a ferocious spray of water. Rube must’ve done something wrong because within seconds, the young reaper was completely drenched in soapy liquid.
“Mother fucker!” she screamed, kicking the washer once more. “I am so gonna kill Rube!” The sound of her cursing was drowned out by the eruption of water.
“Is she yelling at something?” Mason asked, not sure if he’d heard anything other than normal noises. From the living room, it seemed like the washing machine was simply filling up with water.
Taking a sip of her drink, Daisy shook her head. “Just ignore it.”
Title: Store Visit
Author: xandrew157
Characters: George, Mason, Daisy (no pairings)
Genres: humor, crack!fic
Rating: R (language befitting DLM)
Warnings: Swearing, violence to machines; spoilers for season 2 (the car, mention of Trip).
Summary: Response to Prompt #10 “George + Laundry Detergent. George goes to the store; Mason tags along. Just a piece of crack, nothing big.
Word Count: 1446
“What the fuck?” George shouted, kicking the washer. She’d finally decided to do some laundry after two weeks of Daisy refusing to do it for her, but the stupid thing wouldn’t work.
“Problems, Georgia?” asked Daisy, sitting in the living room. They’d had a double reap that afternoon, a really messy car accident. In fact, the arrogant blonde hadn’t even taken her blood-stained white dress off.
Fuming, the eighteen-year-old reaper glared at her roommate. “One, the stupid piece of shit isn’t working, and two, we don’t even have laundry detergent.”
“It was working fine yesterday when I did my delicates. Maybe something went wrong when you kicked it?”
“I kicked it because it wasn’t fucking working!” George retorted, coming into the living room and throwing herself down on the couch. “Now what am I going to do?”
The rhetorical question stayed that way as Mason broke his way into the house. When he was really drunk, the Brit didn’t bother with knocking.
“Hello, sweethearts,” he announced, staggering into the room. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, clearly indicative of a massive drinking binge, most likely accompanied by a variety of stolen drugs.
“Damn it, Mason, are you drunk again?” Daisy asked exasperatedly.
“Drunk, drunk, what’s in the word?” the man chanted, pulling out a flask. “I may be fucking wasted, but I’m doing just fine… got a whole functioning thing going on.”
George snorted. “You call that functioning. I’d call it shit-faced beyond the point of successfully using your basic motor skills.”
“I don’t know whether that was an insult or a compliment… because I don’t really know what that means.”
“Good.” George gave a huge, faux smile before putting on her shoes.
“What, do you have a reap?” Daisy asked, setting her drink down on the table. For all of the reprimands she handed to Mason, she herself had been downing cocktails for well over two hours.
Grunting with the exertion of shoving a shoe on her foot, George looked up. “I… need… laundry… fucking… detergent,” she said sarcastically, obviously still pissy. “And I don’t really want to deal with--”
“Can I come with you, Georgie? Please, please please please?”
“Why do you want to go to the store so badly? There’s not shit there.” His eagerness surprised George, though the weirdness was to be expected when Mason was like this.
Thinking, Mason paused a moment. “I need some toothpaste.”
Both women stopped all motion and looked at him in shock.
“You actually brush your teeth?” Daisy asked curiously. “Since when?”
“I’ve always valued dental hygiene,” Mason replied, acting a little offended. “I just
“And the grand prize in ‘ewww’ goes to Mason, yet again,” George said, getting up. Grabbing a hold of Mason’s jacket, she drug him out to her convertible. “If you’re coming with me, then get your ass in the car.”
*******
Weird, jazzy music filled the department store where the grim reapers had chosen to shop. Well, at least where George had chosen to shop.
Pushing the cart along dejectedly, Mason kept filling it with odd, random items, all of which George routinely emptied. Unknown to her, Mason had been grabbing drug ingredients. The man would do almost anything for money.
“Would you stop fucking grabbing all this shit?” George cursed, heading towards the laundry aisle. “God, all I came here for was some laundry detergent… is it so much to ask that you keep your grubby paws off the other merchandise?”
“Do you like this music?” Mason asked, now staring intently at the lights. “I think it bloody sucks.”
“Yeah, not a fan of… whatever,” George replied absentmindedly, finally reaching her destination.
“Gotcha,” she said, giving a loud “ha”.
They started towards the front of the store to check out, the cart rumbling along crookedly. Leaving it to Mason to choose their cart had been a mistake; he’d grabbed the first one available. It happened to have an inverted wheel. Focused on the goal at hand, George had ignored it.
The woman at the cash register looked at them with disdain, chewing a piece of gum loudly. Her hair was held in a ponytail, somewhat respectable, but it looked like it hadn’t been washed in a week. A stain on her plaid skirt indicated some level of unhygienic existence, while the area around her nose piercing seemed to be slightly infected. The color of lipstick she’d chosen clashed horribly with the rest of her appearance.
In short, she was like the identical female form of Mason.
Rummaging through his pocket, the male reaper fished out a crumpled up Post-it, squinting as he tried to read it. Ignoring him, the cashier rang up the laundry detergent and the few items Mason had gotten away with keeping.
“Excuse me, but are you A… A. Crawford?” The Brit could barely read Rube’s handwriting in his stupor.
The cashier-girl glared at him through thickly lined eyes, her jaw moving up and down, chewing the gum. “What’s it to you?” she asked. “You a cop or somethin’?”
“Or something,” George muttered under her breath. God damn it, Mason hadn’t said anything about a fucking Post-it. He could have at least mentioned it out of courtesy. Now she’d have to wait around for him to send whoever’s soul off on its merry way.
And why had Mason said he needed toothpaste? Was he just so high that he’d made up a shitty excuse like that?
“C’mon, just tell me,” Mason whined. “Then I’ll go, I’ll get out of your way…”
“Yeah, I’m her,” the girl answered reluctantly. She soon returned to looking bored.
Mason reached over the counter to touch her. The girl jumped backwards in disgust, but not before the reaper had managed to brush her bare skin. Normally, a reaper was supposed to be subtle
“Fuckin’ perv!” she screamed, not caring that he’d only touched her wrist. “Get outta here before I call the fucking cops!”
Grabbing her laundry detergent, George strode out of the store to sit in the car, Mason soon behind her. Despite needing to stick around for the girl’s soul, he didn’t want to be around for whatever killed her.
A dirty, ragged figure rushed past Mason as he waited outside of the department store. At this time of night, very few people were shopping, but he had the feeling that this was going to take a while.
Lucky for Mason and George, they only had to wait a few moments before a gunshot pierced the air outside.
“Well, that was fun,” joked Mason as he jumped over the car door, landing squarely in the passenger seat. “In a hold-up, edgy sort of way. Seriously, this fellow couldn’t take any lip at all, just shot the bird point-blank when she made some snarky comment about his bad taste in clothing. I mean--”
The revving of the convertible drowned out his ramblings as George drove home.
******
The pair walked into the house to find Daisy in the same position as they’d left her in; bottle of booze in one hand, the television remote in the other.
Standing in the foyer, George gave her roommate one of her best what-the-fuck-are-you-doing faces. “Did you do anything in the hour and a half that we were gone?”
The blonde nodded. “I called Rube. He came over and fixed the washing machine… go do your laundry.”
The consideration on Daisy’s part was warming, but George chose to ignore it overall. Showing a small bit of appreciation might lead to being walked all over in the future, so she decided to simply head towards the washing machine.
Pouring the detergent in with the odd mix of clothes, which weren’t separated by a recognizable system, George sighed with relief. Getting something done, even something this simple, seemed to be a major accomplishment these. Given her recent depression, courtesy of asshole Trip, everything seemed to be a bit harder to do.
Her sense of safety and achievement were soon shattered by a ferocious spray of water. Rube must’ve done something wrong because within seconds, the young reaper was completely drenched in soapy liquid.
“Mother fucker!” she screamed, kicking the washer once more. “I am so gonna kill Rube!” The sound of her cursing was drowned out by the eruption of water.
“Is she yelling at something?” Mason asked, not sure if he’d heard anything other than normal noises. From the living room, it seemed like the washing machine was simply filling up with water.
Taking a sip of her drink, Daisy shook her head. “Just ignore it.”