fic: revenge is sweet (and contains high-fructose corn syrup) [glee, pg-13]
Title: revenge is sweet (and contains high-fructose corn syrup)
Author: gimmemypickle
Pairing/Characters: [gen/humor] Rachel, OMC (Randy), Puck
Rating: PG-13, I suppose.
Word Count: 1157
Spoilers: If you've seen the Pilot, you're golden. This is set in some undetermined time before 1.08. NO SPOILERS FOR 1.10.
Summary: Vengeance is finally Rachel's, Puck gets his comeuppance, and Randy the freshman isn't sure how he got into this situation.
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material belongs to its respective owners.
Warning(s): Unbetaed. Whiplash may occur with the switching of POVs. Also, gross misuse of parentheses.
Notes: I don't think I see Rachel actually doing something like this, so this is probably entirely OOC. Still fun to write, though.
"How long can it possibly take for a boy to use the restroom? It's not as if he has to reapply his makeup, and he certainly does not need to fix his hair."
Rachel's foot tapped impatiently, eyeing the cheap linoleum and its stain of abandoned gum that the janitor could never quite get rid of. Perhaps if they stopped wasting McKinley' funds on sports (cue disgusted look), they could afford better tile. Even flooring was far more important than the useless athletic extracurriculars that (wrongly) overshadowed Rachel's beloved Glee. After all, what would the jocks be contributing to culture and society? Besides venereal diseases, that is.
"Are you sure I have to do this?"
Rachel turned on the squeaky-voiced freshman, face scrunched in a scowl (that would undoubtedly give her wrinkles; note to self: stop scowling).
Randy, the squeaky-voiced freshman, took a step back in alarm at the demonic glint in her eyes. All he wanted to know was if Mercedes was single. Was it really worth braving this psycho? He thought of Mercedes and her luscious lips. He sighed happily. So worth it.
Rachel made a disgusted sound and inched away. Was he going to drool on her? She shook her head.
"Yes, Randall. In a situation such as this, it is of the utmost importance that punishment is delivered harshly and swiftly."
"But what situation is this? I don't even know why this dude needs to be punished."
The demonic glint returned to her dark eyes, making her look like she might suck out his soul.
This chick was nucking futs.
"Let me tell you a little story, Randall. About a young, aspiring starlet, destined for the stage (and maybe a film or two; an Oscar was nothing to sneeze at), doing her very best to succeed in her high school career, but constantly ridiculed and her attempts to shine thwarted by a devious, Mohawked troll that was obviously jealous of her ambition--"
"Is this story gonna take long? I don't wanna miss lunch."
Instead of scowling (wrinkles!), she settled for stepping on his foot and watching him hop around in pain. Flipping her hair, she continued, "As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, the badly groomed degenerate (I thought you said he was a troll) took great pleasure in his attempts to make the future Broadway darling suffer. Obviously he was deprived of love and basic affection in his youth, which causes him to lash out at those around him. In juvenile ways that make innocent girls have a long-running tab at the dry cleaners."
Randy gave her a blank look. "Dry cleaners? You mean that slushie facial thing I keep hearin' about? You mean to say that all of this is for that Buck guy?"
"Puck. Noah Puckerman, to be exact."
"Whatever. All of this is for Puck?"
"Of course, do you know of any other Mohawked trolls/degenerates running around this school?"
"I'm a freshman. All I care about is finding my classes and dating hot babes with big knockers, so that's a no."
"If you weren't of use to me at the moment, I would lecture you on the benefits of men embracing feminism and learning that referring to women in such derogatory terms is detrimental to the advancement of our society. I will be reminding myself to lecture you at a later date."
"I'll do my best to be sick that day."
Rachel was about ten seconds away from glaring, but lucky for her youthful skin, interrupted by the restroom door banging open; which was followed by the mating call of the evil troll.
"Oh, Noah, there won't be Cheerios willing to flock to you like bees to honey when you're in prison for armed robbery of a gas station," she whispered gleefully to no one in particular, thinking of his future, or lack of one (if you wanted to get technical).
If Rachel's ensuing laughter was slightly maniacal, Randy made no mention of it, but just tried to look like he didn't know her as he waved to a few passing students.
Not letting Puck out of her sight, she reached back to slap at Randall's arm to get his attention.
"Get ready, Randall. ETA is two minutes."
Randy looked around the corner to get a glance of the infamous 'Puck'. He did not like what he was seeing.
"What the hell?! You didn't tell me he was a football player!"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Are you kidding?! He's frickin' huge! He's gonna kill me!" Randy felt like he was about to hyperventilate.
"Oh, please. He's not that big. His best friend, Finn, the quarterback, is far taller."
Oh yeah, he was gonna hyperventilate. "That doesn't make me feel any better! I'm too young to die!"
"Calm yourself. Let's do a few breathing exercises. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale."
Randy's arms flailed around before he settled on yanking at his red hair. "Too young to die! Too young to die! I'm still a virgin," he wailed. (In a rather womanly fashion, if you asked Rachel.)
"Well, with that attitude, that does not really surprise me."
"I am so outta here."
"Oh, stop being so twitchy, Randall. Think of Mercedes. I cannot imagine her not being impressed by your defense of all of glee club."
"You never mentioned anyone else in your little story."
"Semantics. I'm not completely self-centered."
Randy's expression said he didn't agree.
"Look, he is the bane of my existence. Of all our existences. Noah Puckerman's reign of terror must end!" She smiled charmingly. "And who better to be the savior to the masses than Randall Jenkins?"
"Morgan."
"Right, Randall Morgan. Soooooo?"
"Fine. But if I die before I get the chance to get to first base with Mercedes, I am haunting you so much."
"Yay! And duly noted." Rachel peeked around the corner. "Oh, oh, here he comes! Get ready!"
"Get ready to die, you mean," Randy muttered, his stomach making weird, gurgling noises of fear and anxiety. Or maybe he was just hungry.
Rachel fairly skipped across the hallway, getting into position with her camera as Randy did the same. He could see Rachel mouthing (or attempting to mouth, her crazed grin was kind of making it hard) a countdown.
Randall Morgan, formerly known as squeaky-voiced freshman, sighed and said a quick prayer. The things you do for the love of a woman. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the blue slushie (it will stain far better that way, Rachel insisted) fly at the unsuspecting schmuck.
"WHAT THE HELL, FRESHMAN?! YOU ARE SO DEAD!"
Noah Puckerman's letterman jacket: $250.
Randall Morgan's therapy bills: More than his parents want to think about.
Rachel Berry's sweet, (ironically) berry-flavored revenge (and subsequent photographic evidence of said revenge posted on the Internet for all to see): Priceless™.
(And then there was some sort of performance of singing and dancing. Probably.)
Author: gimmemypickle
Pairing/Characters: [gen/humor] Rachel, OMC (Randy), Puck
Rating: PG-13, I suppose.
Word Count: 1157
Spoilers: If you've seen the Pilot, you're golden. This is set in some undetermined time before 1.08. NO SPOILERS FOR 1.10.
Summary: Vengeance is finally Rachel's, Puck gets his comeuppance, and Randy the freshman isn't sure how he got into this situation.
Disclaimer: All copyrighted material belongs to its respective owners.
Warning(s): Unbetaed. Whiplash may occur with the switching of POVs. Also, gross misuse of parentheses.
Notes: I don't think I see Rachel actually doing something like this, so this is probably entirely OOC. Still fun to write, though.
"How long can it possibly take for a boy to use the restroom? It's not as if he has to reapply his makeup, and he certainly does not need to fix his hair."
Rachel's foot tapped impatiently, eyeing the cheap linoleum and its stain of abandoned gum that the janitor could never quite get rid of. Perhaps if they stopped wasting McKinley' funds on sports (cue disgusted look), they could afford better tile. Even flooring was far more important than the useless athletic extracurriculars that (wrongly) overshadowed Rachel's beloved Glee. After all, what would the jocks be contributing to culture and society? Besides venereal diseases, that is.
"Are you sure I have to do this?"
Rachel turned on the squeaky-voiced freshman, face scrunched in a scowl (that would undoubtedly give her wrinkles; note to self: stop scowling).
Randy, the squeaky-voiced freshman, took a step back in alarm at the demonic glint in her eyes. All he wanted to know was if Mercedes was single. Was it really worth braving this psycho? He thought of Mercedes and her luscious lips. He sighed happily. So worth it.
Rachel made a disgusted sound and inched away. Was he going to drool on her? She shook her head.
"Yes, Randall. In a situation such as this, it is of the utmost importance that punishment is delivered harshly and swiftly."
"But what situation is this? I don't even know why this dude needs to be punished."
The demonic glint returned to her dark eyes, making her look like she might suck out his soul.
This chick was nucking futs.
"Let me tell you a little story, Randall. About a young, aspiring starlet, destined for the stage (and maybe a film or two; an Oscar was nothing to sneeze at), doing her very best to succeed in her high school career, but constantly ridiculed and her attempts to shine thwarted by a devious, Mohawked troll that was obviously jealous of her ambition--"
"Is this story gonna take long? I don't wanna miss lunch."
Instead of scowling (wrinkles!), she settled for stepping on his foot and watching him hop around in pain. Flipping her hair, she continued, "As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, the badly groomed degenerate (I thought you said he was a troll) took great pleasure in his attempts to make the future Broadway darling suffer. Obviously he was deprived of love and basic affection in his youth, which causes him to lash out at those around him. In juvenile ways that make innocent girls have a long-running tab at the dry cleaners."
Randy gave her a blank look. "Dry cleaners? You mean that slushie facial thing I keep hearin' about? You mean to say that all of this is for that Buck guy?"
"Puck. Noah Puckerman, to be exact."
"Whatever. All of this is for Puck?"
"Of course, do you know of any other Mohawked trolls/degenerates running around this school?"
"I'm a freshman. All I care about is finding my classes and dating hot babes with big knockers, so that's a no."
"If you weren't of use to me at the moment, I would lecture you on the benefits of men embracing feminism and learning that referring to women in such derogatory terms is detrimental to the advancement of our society. I will be reminding myself to lecture you at a later date."
"I'll do my best to be sick that day."
Rachel was about ten seconds away from glaring, but lucky for her youthful skin, interrupted by the restroom door banging open; which was followed by the mating call of the evil troll.
"Oh, Noah, there won't be Cheerios willing to flock to you like bees to honey when you're in prison for armed robbery of a gas station," she whispered gleefully to no one in particular, thinking of his future, or lack of one (if you wanted to get technical).
If Rachel's ensuing laughter was slightly maniacal, Randy made no mention of it, but just tried to look like he didn't know her as he waved to a few passing students.
Not letting Puck out of her sight, she reached back to slap at Randall's arm to get his attention.
"Get ready, Randall. ETA is two minutes."
Randy looked around the corner to get a glance of the infamous 'Puck'. He did not like what he was seeing.
"What the hell?! You didn't tell me he was a football player!"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Are you kidding?! He's frickin' huge! He's gonna kill me!" Randy felt like he was about to hyperventilate.
"Oh, please. He's not that big. His best friend, Finn, the quarterback, is far taller."
Oh yeah, he was gonna hyperventilate. "That doesn't make me feel any better! I'm too young to die!"
"Calm yourself. Let's do a few breathing exercises. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale."
Randy's arms flailed around before he settled on yanking at his red hair. "Too young to die! Too young to die! I'm still a virgin," he wailed. (In a rather womanly fashion, if you asked Rachel.)
"Well, with that attitude, that does not really surprise me."
"I am so outta here."
"Oh, stop being so twitchy, Randall. Think of Mercedes. I cannot imagine her not being impressed by your defense of all of glee club."
"You never mentioned anyone else in your little story."
"Semantics. I'm not completely self-centered."
Randy's expression said he didn't agree.
"Look, he is the bane of my existence. Of all our existences. Noah Puckerman's reign of terror must end!" She smiled charmingly. "And who better to be the savior to the masses than Randall Jenkins?"
"Morgan."
"Right, Randall Morgan. Soooooo?"
"Fine. But if I die before I get the chance to get to first base with Mercedes, I am haunting you so much."
"Yay! And duly noted." Rachel peeked around the corner. "Oh, oh, here he comes! Get ready!"
"Get ready to die, you mean," Randy muttered, his stomach making weird, gurgling noises of fear and anxiety. Or maybe he was just hungry.
Rachel fairly skipped across the hallway, getting into position with her camera as Randy did the same. He could see Rachel mouthing (or attempting to mouth, her crazed grin was kind of making it hard) a countdown.
Randall Morgan, formerly known as squeaky-voiced freshman, sighed and said a quick prayer. The things you do for the love of a woman. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the blue slushie (it will stain far better that way, Rachel insisted) fly at the unsuspecting schmuck.
"WHAT THE HELL, FRESHMAN?! YOU ARE SO DEAD!"
Noah Puckerman's letterman jacket: $250.
Randall Morgan's therapy bills: More than his parents want to think about.
Rachel Berry's sweet, (ironically) berry-flavored revenge (and subsequent photographic evidence of said revenge posted on the Internet for all to see): Priceless™.
(And then there was some sort of performance of singing and dancing. Probably.)