Fic: Mr Spock's Space Menagerie(originally posted June 18th)
This is pure, unadulterated crack. I warn you now. It's not even the crack I was planning to write, but there it is.
Title: Mr Spock's Space Menagerie
Pairing: Shatnoy, obv.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: Written in response to this rather vague prompt, which, as I said, made me think the prompter must want a crack universe wherein Bill and Leonard take some time out, grow hippy beards and sell snakes to stoners in downtown San Francisco. That's what they got, anyway.
Disclaimer: This is so obviously not true, it's - well - not true.
On December 31st, 1969, they left for San Francisco. The date was chosen specifically because Bill had said (drunkenly, to De, on the night Star Trek folded) that he'd just as soon start the Seventies somewhere else, somewhere far away and fancy-free. Possibly Thailand.
Leonard had announced, holding his glass aloft, that he intended to open an exotic pet shop. De said, "Put me down for a turtle when you do," and that, as they thought, was the end of it.
Well, the Thailand thing had fallen through, but somehow, after the Fold Party - they called it that, because Star Trek had not, should not have, and could not be decently alleged to have wrapped - things sort of reached the point where the exotic pet shop was looking like a great idea. Leonard enrolled himself in a Buddhist retreat in a moment of madness, and had to be forcibly rescued by Bill at penknife-point. Bill took to wearing turtleneck sweaters and pretending to write poetry in coffee shops, for want of anything better to do. On one occasion, when they were engaged in a deeply exciting hunt for 'duck-egg blue' toilet tissue at Raleys, some kids rolled past in a shopping trolley and coughed the word faggot at them.
That was the day they decided enough was enough.
"Bill," said Leonard decisively, "I am going to open an Exotic Pet Shop. I shall call it Mr Spock's Space Menagerie." He proffered the package in his hands for Bill's inspection. "Is this duck-egg blue?"
"It's green," said Bill, dismissively, and then, "I think we might do well in San Fran."
And so it came to be that, on the last day of the last year of the 1960's, Bill and Leonard poured themselves and a few worldly possessions into Leonard's Buick, and set off for San Francisco.
***
As it turned out, nobody who had ever heard of Leonard Nimoy actually believed that Leonard was him. They were all of the opinion that he only called himself that as a sort of complement to the name of his store, which, frankly, was fine by Bill, who had no desire to talk to anyone except Leonard ever again on any subject except the care and keeping of tropical fish.
"You like to wax lyrical about lizards," Leonard pointed out, when Bill told him this. Bill conceded the point.
They made sure never to shave their faces properly, and had the phoneline taken out, so as to minimise contact with confused wives, concerned mothers, and anyone who might potentially expect any proper expert information about exotic pets. De sent them a postcard with a picture of a cat on the front, and the message 'WHERE'S MY TURTLE? Sorry the cat's not really very exotic, but it's the best I could do. Pretend it's a space cat.' They taped it to the refrigerator with a Band-Aid.
In February, Leonard came triumphantly home with a leopard. Bill was, predictably, furious, insisted that Leonard had only wanted a leopard because 'leopard' kind of rhymed with his name; demanded to know where Leonard intended to keep the fucking thing; and strongly implied that it smelled.
Leonard said the man who had sold it to him had just let it wander about, and that it was tame.
Bill said, "Either that thing goes, or I do," and stormed off upstairs to take a long shower.
The leopard was gone by the end of the week.
By June, they were something of a known entity in the surrounding area. Groups of teenagers drifted in after school let out and asked endless questions about mating cycles. Occasionally, they bought small tropical fish. Bill told one group that the male sea-turtle was capable of carrying eighty-seven baby turtles in a specially-formed pocket in its large intestine, which they found deeply intriguing.
"Dumbass," said Leonard, when the store was empty again, wrapping his arms around Bill from behind.
"You love me," Bill told him, craning his neck to look at him. "Admit it."
For a moment, Leonard was quiet. Then he smiled, slipped easily across the room to the door, locked it, and turned the plate to 'Closed'.
"It's only four-thirty!" Bill protested, in some confusion.
"Shut up," said Leonard, and backed him up against the wall, and kissed him.
Bill shut up. Leonard made sure to make a note of this, so far the only successful Shutting Bill Up technique, but decided not to tell De about it. No sense giving away all your personal advantages.
In October, they were arguing about the relative merits of rounder vs. longer eggplant when they caught the words 'Kirk and Spock'. Pausing, by mutual consent, to listen, they overheard a kid on the other side of the grocer's store telling his mother that the two guys in the weird clothes kinda looked like Kirk and Spock.
His mother said, "Honey, stop pointing at strange men," and led him away rather aggressively by the wrist.
That was about the only time they ever heard Kirk and Spock mentioned at all, which, again, was perfectly fine by them.
It didn't exactly make a lot of money, the pet store. In November, Leonard balanced the books, swore; balanced them again, swore some more and cracked open a bottle of whisky; balanced them again and got a different result, and went to bed to wake Bill up for a celebratory fuck. Of course, in the morning it turned out that the happy calculation had been entirely due to the whisky, rather than to their entrepeneurial expertise, but still, it had been a good fuck.
They closed the shop in January, deciding, with some reluctance, that really it was probably best to get out before they were completely broke, rather than just mostly. Leonard exchanged his Buick for a VW microbus with orange paisley curtains, and they drove home to LA the long way. Which is to say, they drove home via New Mexico.
Everyone was pleased, in general, to have them back, and also fairly happy to classify the whole year as some sort of psychotic episode induced by the shock of the cancellation. De was annoyed that nobody had procured him a turtle. Bill told him he meant a tortoise, anyway, not a turtle; and Leonard diplomatically intervened to suggest they all go somewhere and get blissfully drunk, which De agreed was perfectly fine, provided they refrained from groping each other across his lap this time.
Mr Spock's Space Menagerie, it seems, is pretty much an unknown quantity in the world of the general media, and, even, in the more fanatical arena of Trekkie journalism, which is slightly odd. But then, nobody really wants to think about the Seventies, because they began in the wake of Star Trek Death and ended with Kirk and Spock in grey pyjamas, and seemed pretty much like one of God's mistakes in general. So Bill and Leonard let the omission pass, and go on altering the dates on IMDB and places to make it look as if Leonard was doing Mission: Impossible in 1970, instead of selling angelfish to stoners. If nothing else, it gives them something consistent to do.
Title: Mr Spock's Space Menagerie
Pairing: Shatnoy, obv.
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: Written in response to this rather vague prompt, which, as I said, made me think the prompter must want a crack universe wherein Bill and Leonard take some time out, grow hippy beards and sell snakes to stoners in downtown San Francisco. That's what they got, anyway.
Disclaimer: This is so obviously not true, it's - well - not true.
On December 31st, 1969, they left for San Francisco. The date was chosen specifically because Bill had said (drunkenly, to De, on the night Star Trek folded) that he'd just as soon start the Seventies somewhere else, somewhere far away and fancy-free. Possibly Thailand.
Leonard had announced, holding his glass aloft, that he intended to open an exotic pet shop. De said, "Put me down for a turtle when you do," and that, as they thought, was the end of it.
Well, the Thailand thing had fallen through, but somehow, after the Fold Party - they called it that, because Star Trek had not, should not have, and could not be decently alleged to have wrapped - things sort of reached the point where the exotic pet shop was looking like a great idea. Leonard enrolled himself in a Buddhist retreat in a moment of madness, and had to be forcibly rescued by Bill at penknife-point. Bill took to wearing turtleneck sweaters and pretending to write poetry in coffee shops, for want of anything better to do. On one occasion, when they were engaged in a deeply exciting hunt for 'duck-egg blue' toilet tissue at Raleys, some kids rolled past in a shopping trolley and coughed the word faggot at them.
That was the day they decided enough was enough.
"Bill," said Leonard decisively, "I am going to open an Exotic Pet Shop. I shall call it Mr Spock's Space Menagerie." He proffered the package in his hands for Bill's inspection. "Is this duck-egg blue?"
"It's green," said Bill, dismissively, and then, "I think we might do well in San Fran."
And so it came to be that, on the last day of the last year of the 1960's, Bill and Leonard poured themselves and a few worldly possessions into Leonard's Buick, and set off for San Francisco.
***
As it turned out, nobody who had ever heard of Leonard Nimoy actually believed that Leonard was him. They were all of the opinion that he only called himself that as a sort of complement to the name of his store, which, frankly, was fine by Bill, who had no desire to talk to anyone except Leonard ever again on any subject except the care and keeping of tropical fish.
"You like to wax lyrical about lizards," Leonard pointed out, when Bill told him this. Bill conceded the point.
They made sure never to shave their faces properly, and had the phoneline taken out, so as to minimise contact with confused wives, concerned mothers, and anyone who might potentially expect any proper expert information about exotic pets. De sent them a postcard with a picture of a cat on the front, and the message 'WHERE'S MY TURTLE? Sorry the cat's not really very exotic, but it's the best I could do. Pretend it's a space cat.' They taped it to the refrigerator with a Band-Aid.
In February, Leonard came triumphantly home with a leopard. Bill was, predictably, furious, insisted that Leonard had only wanted a leopard because 'leopard' kind of rhymed with his name; demanded to know where Leonard intended to keep the fucking thing; and strongly implied that it smelled.
Leonard said the man who had sold it to him had just let it wander about, and that it was tame.
Bill said, "Either that thing goes, or I do," and stormed off upstairs to take a long shower.
The leopard was gone by the end of the week.
By June, they were something of a known entity in the surrounding area. Groups of teenagers drifted in after school let out and asked endless questions about mating cycles. Occasionally, they bought small tropical fish. Bill told one group that the male sea-turtle was capable of carrying eighty-seven baby turtles in a specially-formed pocket in its large intestine, which they found deeply intriguing.
"Dumbass," said Leonard, when the store was empty again, wrapping his arms around Bill from behind.
"You love me," Bill told him, craning his neck to look at him. "Admit it."
For a moment, Leonard was quiet. Then he smiled, slipped easily across the room to the door, locked it, and turned the plate to 'Closed'.
"It's only four-thirty!" Bill protested, in some confusion.
"Shut up," said Leonard, and backed him up against the wall, and kissed him.
Bill shut up. Leonard made sure to make a note of this, so far the only successful Shutting Bill Up technique, but decided not to tell De about it. No sense giving away all your personal advantages.
In October, they were arguing about the relative merits of rounder vs. longer eggplant when they caught the words 'Kirk and Spock'. Pausing, by mutual consent, to listen, they overheard a kid on the other side of the grocer's store telling his mother that the two guys in the weird clothes kinda looked like Kirk and Spock.
His mother said, "Honey, stop pointing at strange men," and led him away rather aggressively by the wrist.
That was about the only time they ever heard Kirk and Spock mentioned at all, which, again, was perfectly fine by them.
It didn't exactly make a lot of money, the pet store. In November, Leonard balanced the books, swore; balanced them again, swore some more and cracked open a bottle of whisky; balanced them again and got a different result, and went to bed to wake Bill up for a celebratory fuck. Of course, in the morning it turned out that the happy calculation had been entirely due to the whisky, rather than to their entrepeneurial expertise, but still, it had been a good fuck.
They closed the shop in January, deciding, with some reluctance, that really it was probably best to get out before they were completely broke, rather than just mostly. Leonard exchanged his Buick for a VW microbus with orange paisley curtains, and they drove home to LA the long way. Which is to say, they drove home via New Mexico.
Everyone was pleased, in general, to have them back, and also fairly happy to classify the whole year as some sort of psychotic episode induced by the shock of the cancellation. De was annoyed that nobody had procured him a turtle. Bill told him he meant a tortoise, anyway, not a turtle; and Leonard diplomatically intervened to suggest they all go somewhere and get blissfully drunk, which De agreed was perfectly fine, provided they refrained from groping each other across his lap this time.
Mr Spock's Space Menagerie, it seems, is pretty much an unknown quantity in the world of the general media, and, even, in the more fanatical arena of Trekkie journalism, which is slightly odd. But then, nobody really wants to think about the Seventies, because they began in the wake of Star Trek Death and ended with Kirk and Spock in grey pyjamas, and seemed pretty much like one of God's mistakes in general. So Bill and Leonard let the omission pass, and go on altering the dates on IMDB and places to make it look as if Leonard was doing Mission: Impossible in 1970, instead of selling angelfish to stoners. If nothing else, it gives them something consistent to do.