The Shiny Happy Comment Ficathon!
Winter is coming; daylight is fleeting; for the students among us, end-of-semester hell is just about to rear its ugly head. What better way to combat such woes than with a super-cheerful comment ficathon?
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Liz stares at him. "Is this one of those times where you make me mad on purpose to teach me how to convert my anger into power, like a shark?"
"An orca, Lemon. An orca. And no. If I was practicing the O-R-C-A Method, you'd recognize it immediately."
"O-R-C-A?"
"Offensive Riling Creates Aptitude."
"Oh, hey! That's kinda funny."
"No, you know what's kinda funny? The fact that you think John Stamos actually has a chance at beating the curly haired man for the lasting possession of that funny-looking redhead's heart on Glee. It's never going to happen, Lemon."
"Let me tell you something about Will Schuester, Jack!" Liz says, and some indignant finger pointing comes out to play without Liz's permission. It's not so weird. What's so weird is when she catches herself doing it to the TV. (But seriously. Sue is so right about that d-bag. Why can't Emma see it?? And why can't Liz get her hair to stay in an Emma hair shape?) "Will Schuester is an adulterous stalkery creep who does not look nearly as good in those well-tailored vests as he thinks he does, and in a fair and just world, he wouldn't hold a candle to Uncle Jesse! No one beats Uncle Jesse, Jack, no one, especially not when he is a sexy dentist. God damn it!"
She's breathing heavily. She feels the power of her hatred coursing through her.
"Orca'd," Jack says, quietly, steely-gazedly, and triumphantly.
"Whoa," Liz says.
Jack pats her on the shoulder, then returns to the topic at hand. "But you should think about it, Lemon. Consider this: your undeniable resemblance to the divine Sarah--"
"--blechhhhhhhhhhhh--"
"--will garner popularity that you, quite frankly, have never known and will never know anywhere else. Who knows? If she's made aware of it -- if she's tickled by it -- she may even make you her mascot."
"Her mascot? Jack, are you serious?"
"I never joke about mascots," Jack says solemnly.
"The Harvard mascot is crimson," Liz tests. "That's not even a living entity."
"Crimson is a noble color," Jack says with great dignity.
Liz rolls her eyes. "Okay. Clearly we're not gonna get anywhere there. The point is: Jack, the idea of me being that woman's mascot is abhorrent. If you say it again, I might actually throw up in my mouth a little. And I don't know why you would even go there! For the record, I am way more offended than that time I was too busy to shower for a couple days and you said I looked like a, quote, 'non-hot, past-his-prime Viggo Mortensen who subsists on naught but Four Loko and deep, searing regret.' This is so much worse than orca-ing me! This, this is straight up Moby Dicking me! Why would you even talk to me about Sarah Palin fundraisers--"
"I was wondering," Jack interrupts, quite placidly, "whether you might accompany me to one."
Liz stares at him. Jack stares back. She's still not quite used to just how good he's gotten at enduring her crazy ranting.
"To torture me?"
"To date you, Lemon."
Liz should know better than to take this seriously. Ever since Avery took off, Jack's been a little on the crazy side. A few weeks ago, Jenna spent a half hour listening to him talk about his feelings (in a way where she was actually just practicing her I'm Here For You face for a new guest spot as a guidance counselor on 90210), and Jack came super close to retaliating by getting Jenna's name tattooed on his jugular. Boy, was it a picnic talking him down from that one.
But he's been doing better since, and for the past week he's seemed pretty much sane.
So.
"You don't want to tattoo my name anywhere, do you?" Liz tests.
Jack snorts. "Please. I lost my assumed life partner and soon-to-be-born child, not my every last ounce of dignity and self-respect."
"Gee," Liz says, "thanks. And, um. Okay. Sure. I guess I'll go with you. As friends."
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"Well, that's sweet, Jack," Liz says, putting her hand on top of his. "You know what, let's do that fundraiser!"
Jack gives her a slight smile. "Thank you."
"I'm gonna get myself kicked out within the first fifteen minutes, bee tee dubs."
"I have no doubt that you believe that now."
"You can't My Fair Lady me into being okay with Sarah Palin, Jack. It's never going to happen."
"The same thing was said to me once by a young Joe Miller," Jack tells her, untroubled.
Okay. Creepy.
"Time for me to get back to work," Liz announces, before that story can go any further. "Hang in there, Donaghy."
"Will do," Jack says, and for the first time in awhile, she believes him.
He starts to walk away, then stops right in front of her. Man, his eyes are super blue. Should that be biologically possible?
"And Lemon," he says, soft and smirky, "If I was Moby Dicking you ... you'd know it."
He walks away. There's some definite classic Jack Donaghy swagger in his step.
"Oh brother," Liz mumbles, watching him go.
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DELIGHTFUL. PERFECTION.
Perfect Jack and Liz!
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No one beats Uncle Jesse, Jack, no one, especially not when he is a sexy dentist. God damn it!
(SO TRUE, OH MAN.)
This is so much worse than orca-ing me! This, this is straight up Moby Dicking me!
'Friends,' here, having the meaning of 'you.'
(Awwwwwww. ♥ )
"The same thing was said to me once by a young Joe Miller," Jack tells her, untroubled.
BASICALLY, EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS MAKES MY HEART JOYOUS. :D
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Thank you so much, friend! ♥
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