Final two drabbles!
I finally finished, a few days later than I intended. Both of today's drabbles take place in the Shotgun Bride universe.
For rainpuddle13:
A Right Stinker of a Mess
“Is it still out there?” Pansy asked, staring at the shed door as if she could magically see through it if she tried hard enough.
“I’m not looking to find out. George?” Fred said quickly.
“I’m not either!” George said. “I remember last time I got that close to a skunk. Mom wouldn’t let me in the house for a week. I had to sleep in the truck bed, and it ain’t comfortable.”
“Plus tomato juice baths aren’t as fun as they sound,” said Fred. He glanced at Pansy, and clarified, “Cold and slimy.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Pansy said, attempting to be aloof but only staring up at the ceiling beams. There wasn’t a whole lot of room to move around in the rickity old shed they had darted into after Fred had kicked the can directly at the skunk, and the skunk had chosen to charge them.
“Maybe we can look out the slit on top of the door,” George offered. “It looks wide enough.”
“There’s nothing to stand on,” Pansy said.
“There’s us!” Fred offered brightly.
“No,” Pansy said. “You just want to look up my skirt.”
They both gave her a long look.
“There ain’t a whole hell of a lot to look up,” Fred said appraisingly.
“Would we do that?” George said at the same time. They exchanged a glance and snickered.
Pansy glared and put her hands on her hips. “Get me out of here now.”
“It’s your fault we’re in here, why don’t you get us out?” said George.
“It is not my fault, it’s Kicky McKickerson’s fault! Going about kicking cans all willy-nilly. What were you thinking?’ Pansy snapped, pointing at the twin she was relatively sure was Fred. They were both wearing NASCAR t-shirts and faded jeans, it was sort of difficult to pick out the differences enough to tell them apart.
“It was an angry kick, not a recreational one,” Fred replied, narrowing his eyes.
“I don’t care,” was Pansy’s succinct reply.
“It was your fault I was angry, anyhow,” Fred snapped.
“Why? Because I answered your question? It’s sorta creepy how concerned you are with your sister’s love life, just so you know,” Pansy replied.
“But how come you already knew she had runned off with that... that... Malfoy?” George asked.
“Because,” Pansy said sullenly. She sighed. “Go ahead, boost me up. I’ll look for the skunk.”
She peered out the opening at the top of the door, glanced down, and saw two identical sets of eyes fixated on what was under her skirt.
“Bastards,” she muttered, and said deliberately loudly, “It’s gone!”
“You sure?”
“You can look a little while longer, make sure it ain’t just hiding.”
“Put me down!” she snapped.
Reluctantly, they did so.
“No sense staying in here any longer,” Fred said, and George threw open the door.
They both screamed simultaneously as the acrid stench invaded the shed, and Pansy snickered from the corner she was huddled in in the vague hope of avoiding being sprayed.
“That’s what you get,” Pansy said. “Don’t mess with the master.”
***
For sarea_okelani (who found the recipe):
Manifold Stew
“Look what I killed!” Draco’s excited voice echoed through the house.
“The boy’s home from huntin’,” Bellatrix said wryly. “And he’s brought home dinner!”
Ginny gave her husband’s aunt a horrified look. “I’m not expected to make food out of whatever dead animal he’s toting in here, am I?”
“Of course, darlin’,” Bellatrix said. “You’re his old lady now. You get to do all that fun stuff.”
“Trixie, please don’t make me do this by myself,” Ginny said quickly as she heard Draco’s footsteps near the kitchen. “I’ll do anything--”
“See?” Draco said proudly, holding out an armful of matted, bloody fur. “Where do you want them?”
“Outside!” yelped Ginny. “What the hell is that?”
“Squirrels!”
“No,” Ginny said. “I don’t eat squirrel.”
“Fastidious little thing, aren’t we?” Bellatrix said mockingly. “Hell, in the pen I woulda taken a girl out if someone woulda offered me a squirrel.”
Draco was looking crestfallen. “Aren’t you impressed? Look at how many I got!”
Ginny couldn’t school the disgust from her face.
“It’s damn impressive, boy,” Bellatrix offered. “Squirrels are wily little critters. Hard to get a clean shot in. These look like they’re mostly intact.” She prodded a particularly sodden one on the top. “Well, except for this fellow. I woulda left him, boy, not much left of this one.”
“I don’t care how impressive it is that you shot...” Ginny took a quick census of the critters in her husband’s arms, “six squirrels. That doesn’t make them any less disease-ridden rodents with cute fluffy tails. I don’t eat squirrels anymore than I eat rats. Take them out back!”
Draco gave her a forlorn look, and walked slowly towards the back door. “I’ll cook them myself. See if I need your help,” he muttered sullenly.
Ginny settled back down at her chair and looked at her magazine. Bellatrix disappeared after a few moments to get ready for her job at Dare to Bare, a lingerie store that was willing to overlook her criminal record. Ginny read an article on pleasing your man and listened to Draco cuss up a storm in the backyard. Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer, slammed shut her magazine and stalked outside.
“Fine, I’ll help with your damn squirrels,” Ginny said, staring at the gruesome mess Draco had made on the picnic table. She was weak, but she couldn’t bear to hear him unhappy.
“I’m gonna make Manifold Stew,” Draco said. “Goyle told me about it, it sounded real good.”
“Fine, what do you need?”
“Will you get the dutch oven and start up the Chevelle? You’re supposed to preheat.”
Four hours later, Ginny and Draco stared in despair at the mess under the hood of the Chevelle.
“Is that a carrot chunk stuck in the radiator?” Ginny asked, unwilling to prod at the vaguely orange glob.
“I think there’s some squirrel in my headers,” Draco said. “How the hell do you get squirrel out of your headers?”
“Same way you get squirrel off the fanbelt, I reckon,” Ginny said. “I told you that we shouldn’t have gone down that gravel road with stew under the hood.”
“I duct taped in in place,” Draco protested. “It shoulda stayed.”
Ginny sighed. “I knew I hated squirrel.”
**
Hope you enjoyed them!
For rainpuddle13:
A Right Stinker of a Mess
“Is it still out there?” Pansy asked, staring at the shed door as if she could magically see through it if she tried hard enough.
“I’m not looking to find out. George?” Fred said quickly.
“I’m not either!” George said. “I remember last time I got that close to a skunk. Mom wouldn’t let me in the house for a week. I had to sleep in the truck bed, and it ain’t comfortable.”
“Plus tomato juice baths aren’t as fun as they sound,” said Fred. He glanced at Pansy, and clarified, “Cold and slimy.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Pansy said, attempting to be aloof but only staring up at the ceiling beams. There wasn’t a whole lot of room to move around in the rickity old shed they had darted into after Fred had kicked the can directly at the skunk, and the skunk had chosen to charge them.
“Maybe we can look out the slit on top of the door,” George offered. “It looks wide enough.”
“There’s nothing to stand on,” Pansy said.
“There’s us!” Fred offered brightly.
“No,” Pansy said. “You just want to look up my skirt.”
They both gave her a long look.
“There ain’t a whole hell of a lot to look up,” Fred said appraisingly.
“Would we do that?” George said at the same time. They exchanged a glance and snickered.
Pansy glared and put her hands on her hips. “Get me out of here now.”
“It’s your fault we’re in here, why don’t you get us out?” said George.
“It is not my fault, it’s Kicky McKickerson’s fault! Going about kicking cans all willy-nilly. What were you thinking?’ Pansy snapped, pointing at the twin she was relatively sure was Fred. They were both wearing NASCAR t-shirts and faded jeans, it was sort of difficult to pick out the differences enough to tell them apart.
“It was an angry kick, not a recreational one,” Fred replied, narrowing his eyes.
“I don’t care,” was Pansy’s succinct reply.
“It was your fault I was angry, anyhow,” Fred snapped.
“Why? Because I answered your question? It’s sorta creepy how concerned you are with your sister’s love life, just so you know,” Pansy replied.
“But how come you already knew she had runned off with that... that... Malfoy?” George asked.
“Because,” Pansy said sullenly. She sighed. “Go ahead, boost me up. I’ll look for the skunk.”
She peered out the opening at the top of the door, glanced down, and saw two identical sets of eyes fixated on what was under her skirt.
“Bastards,” she muttered, and said deliberately loudly, “It’s gone!”
“You sure?”
“You can look a little while longer, make sure it ain’t just hiding.”
“Put me down!” she snapped.
Reluctantly, they did so.
“No sense staying in here any longer,” Fred said, and George threw open the door.
They both screamed simultaneously as the acrid stench invaded the shed, and Pansy snickered from the corner she was huddled in in the vague hope of avoiding being sprayed.
“That’s what you get,” Pansy said. “Don’t mess with the master.”
***
For sarea_okelani (who found the recipe):
Manifold Stew
“Look what I killed!” Draco’s excited voice echoed through the house.
“The boy’s home from huntin’,” Bellatrix said wryly. “And he’s brought home dinner!”
Ginny gave her husband’s aunt a horrified look. “I’m not expected to make food out of whatever dead animal he’s toting in here, am I?”
“Of course, darlin’,” Bellatrix said. “You’re his old lady now. You get to do all that fun stuff.”
“Trixie, please don’t make me do this by myself,” Ginny said quickly as she heard Draco’s footsteps near the kitchen. “I’ll do anything--”
“See?” Draco said proudly, holding out an armful of matted, bloody fur. “Where do you want them?”
“Outside!” yelped Ginny. “What the hell is that?”
“Squirrels!”
“No,” Ginny said. “I don’t eat squirrel.”
“Fastidious little thing, aren’t we?” Bellatrix said mockingly. “Hell, in the pen I woulda taken a girl out if someone woulda offered me a squirrel.”
Draco was looking crestfallen. “Aren’t you impressed? Look at how many I got!”
Ginny couldn’t school the disgust from her face.
“It’s damn impressive, boy,” Bellatrix offered. “Squirrels are wily little critters. Hard to get a clean shot in. These look like they’re mostly intact.” She prodded a particularly sodden one on the top. “Well, except for this fellow. I woulda left him, boy, not much left of this one.”
“I don’t care how impressive it is that you shot...” Ginny took a quick census of the critters in her husband’s arms, “six squirrels. That doesn’t make them any less disease-ridden rodents with cute fluffy tails. I don’t eat squirrels anymore than I eat rats. Take them out back!”
Draco gave her a forlorn look, and walked slowly towards the back door. “I’ll cook them myself. See if I need your help,” he muttered sullenly.
Ginny settled back down at her chair and looked at her magazine. Bellatrix disappeared after a few moments to get ready for her job at Dare to Bare, a lingerie store that was willing to overlook her criminal record. Ginny read an article on pleasing your man and listened to Draco cuss up a storm in the backyard. Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer, slammed shut her magazine and stalked outside.
“Fine, I’ll help with your damn squirrels,” Ginny said, staring at the gruesome mess Draco had made on the picnic table. She was weak, but she couldn’t bear to hear him unhappy.
“I’m gonna make Manifold Stew,” Draco said. “Goyle told me about it, it sounded real good.”
“Fine, what do you need?”
“Will you get the dutch oven and start up the Chevelle? You’re supposed to preheat.”
Four hours later, Ginny and Draco stared in despair at the mess under the hood of the Chevelle.
“Is that a carrot chunk stuck in the radiator?” Ginny asked, unwilling to prod at the vaguely orange glob.
“I think there’s some squirrel in my headers,” Draco said. “How the hell do you get squirrel out of your headers?”
“Same way you get squirrel off the fanbelt, I reckon,” Ginny said. “I told you that we shouldn’t have gone down that gravel road with stew under the hood.”
“I duct taped in in place,” Draco protested. “It shoulda stayed.”
Ginny sighed. “I knew I hated squirrel.”
**
Hope you enjoyed them!