Drabble That Is Not A Drabble On Demand: E/T Phone Home
title: E/T PHONE HOME, or: some thoughts on the appreciation of quirks and randomness
author: sappholococcus
rating: G
pairing: ernie macmillan/tracey davis
summary: in which ernie is Pompous, tracey has an Out Of Body Experience, and there is a ghost.
warnings: tons and tons trace amounts of crack.
disclaimer: these two belong to el_em_en_oh_pee and capitol_barbie JK Rowling and her publishers.
author's note: before you ask, the significant lack of capitalised letters in the story is done on purpose. this was written for my dear dsfol, el_em_en_oh_pee, as a part of our Drabbles On Demand Fest, Reserved Only For The Four (and yes, for the record, I do realise that this is far too long to be a drabble). if that doesn't make sense to you, you aren't one of them :| so sorry.
p.s., dsfol, fsel frre t heta thesi. myu chedrictiztn isf hroibel, i sm sute. (ro st leas ntohing lisk ryos :|)
really, tracey should be used to ghosts. there were certainly enough of them in her house when she was younger. it's not the first ghost she's met that chooses to haunt a loo, either; moaning myrtle was one of the tamest.
still, being woken at 5 am by the toilet overflowing when tracey has a hangover is one of the worst things she could ever imagine. "are you trying to kill me?" she screams into the empty flat.
that might be a tsking noise, or just a draft from the open window. tracey isn't sure.
instead of going to check, she covers her head with her pillow: and promptly gets a cigarette butt almost completely up her nose. the spluttering noise she makes is loud enough to rival that of the toilet.
+++
she's almost gone back to sleep (flicked the cigarette away, and completely ignored the toilet: so what if she drowns?) when the buzzer sounds. it's times like this that tracey misses having an elf.
she barely has enough money to pay rent on her flat (which is likely being submerged in toilet water while she sleeps, stupid ghost).
"come in!" she yells at the door. like as not it's daphne, coming to make sure tracey is still alive after consuming so much alcohol.
but it's not.
"Ernest Macmillan," ernie announces, in the pompous tone of voice that Requires Capitalisation. "... tracey?"
"i'm dead," tracey says miserably to her pillow. "i'm dead, i'm dead, this isn't happening. i must be the ghost of tracey's loo."
"what?" ernie asks, confused. tracey is too busy contemplating how she could be in her bed dying and haunting her loo at the same time to answer. this is, she decides, an Out of Body Experience, complete with ernest's capital letters. or something.
ernie notes: "your floor is wet. did you know that?"
+++
"you really ought to have someone professional look at that," ernie says. they're standing at the door to the loo now, side by side. tracey can't be too disembodied, because she can feel ernie's shoulder touching hers.
or rather, ernie's arm, because tracey's shoulder is about halfway between his shoulder and his elbow.
"mum's in france," tracey says.
"i was talking about the toilet," ernie replies, frowning.
"it's not the toilet." tracey points at the back of the toilet, where various pipes (she didn't know toilets had so many pipes until now!) are sticking out and spilling all over the floor. "that's the ghost."
ernie looks around. "i don't see a ghost."
"i know i'm short," tracey says irritably, "but honestly, can't you see i'm right here in front of you?"
ernie stares. "first you're a vampire, and now you're a ghost?"
+++
"i don't know why you think i'm a vampire," tracey says almost a half an hour later, when the floor is dry (mostly) and they've made breakfast from the scraps of food in her fridge. "i am out in the daytime on an almost daily basis."
"i was referring," ernie replies, "to the Incident."
"Incident?" tracey asks innocently, even though she knows exactly what he's talking about.
ernie sighs. "the time you got drunk and fed on muggleborns."
tracey bursts out laughing and nearly knocks over her pumpkin juice. luckily, ernie catches it ("for your carpet's sake," he says, shaking his head). "that's mudbloods, ernest. it's an alcoholic beverage. and for the record, you drink beverages, you don't feed on them."
"that's not what it sounded like," ernie says stubbornly. "i don't know why you'd name a drink mudblood, anyway. don't you think that's creepy?"
"not any more creepy than your girlfriend," tracey says, and then claps a hand over her mouth. "oops."
+++
it's when ernie is gone that tracey hears the tapping on the window. at first she thinks it's the ghost, but when it doesn't go away, she looks up. an owl is sitting on the ledge of her closed window, looking at her impatiently.
and really, between the drowned cat look of her carpet, the burned frying pans on her stove, and the smell of smoke still lingering in her nose (not to mention the disaster she just made of her chances with Ernest), tracey thinks it's about time to go back to bed. but she knows that owl, and one simply does not refuse to open the window for your mother's owl.
Tracey darling,
He'll get there before this owl does, but I thought I'd write and tell you that your brother is coming to visit. I think the number of loos in this house frustrates him, and he misses you.
You might want to put Impervius charms on your floor and any valuable items.
Love,
Your Mum
"joshua," tracey says to the air, "if you weren't already dead, i might have to kill you."
author: sappholococcus
rating: G
pairing: ernie macmillan/tracey davis
summary: in which ernie is Pompous, tracey has an Out Of Body Experience, and there is a ghost.
warnings: tons and tons trace amounts of crack.
disclaimer: these two belong to el_em_en_oh_pee and capitol_barbie JK Rowling and her publishers.
author's note: before you ask, the significant lack of capitalised letters in the story is done on purpose. this was written for my dear dsfol, el_em_en_oh_pee, as a part of our Drabbles On Demand Fest, Reserved Only For The Four (and yes, for the record, I do realise that this is far too long to be a drabble). if that doesn't make sense to you, you aren't one of them :| so sorry.
p.s., dsfol, fsel frre t heta thesi. myu chedrictiztn isf hroibel, i sm sute. (ro st leas ntohing lisk ryos :|)
really, tracey should be used to ghosts. there were certainly enough of them in her house when she was younger. it's not the first ghost she's met that chooses to haunt a loo, either; moaning myrtle was one of the tamest.
still, being woken at 5 am by the toilet overflowing when tracey has a hangover is one of the worst things she could ever imagine. "are you trying to kill me?" she screams into the empty flat.
that might be a tsking noise, or just a draft from the open window. tracey isn't sure.
instead of going to check, she covers her head with her pillow: and promptly gets a cigarette butt almost completely up her nose. the spluttering noise she makes is loud enough to rival that of the toilet.
+++
she's almost gone back to sleep (flicked the cigarette away, and completely ignored the toilet: so what if she drowns?) when the buzzer sounds. it's times like this that tracey misses having an elf.
she barely has enough money to pay rent on her flat (which is likely being submerged in toilet water while she sleeps, stupid ghost).
"come in!" she yells at the door. like as not it's daphne, coming to make sure tracey is still alive after consuming so much alcohol.
but it's not.
"Ernest Macmillan," ernie announces, in the pompous tone of voice that Requires Capitalisation. "... tracey?"
"i'm dead," tracey says miserably to her pillow. "i'm dead, i'm dead, this isn't happening. i must be the ghost of tracey's loo."
"what?" ernie asks, confused. tracey is too busy contemplating how she could be in her bed dying and haunting her loo at the same time to answer. this is, she decides, an Out of Body Experience, complete with ernest's capital letters. or something.
ernie notes: "your floor is wet. did you know that?"
+++
"you really ought to have someone professional look at that," ernie says. they're standing at the door to the loo now, side by side. tracey can't be too disembodied, because she can feel ernie's shoulder touching hers.
or rather, ernie's arm, because tracey's shoulder is about halfway between his shoulder and his elbow.
"mum's in france," tracey says.
"i was talking about the toilet," ernie replies, frowning.
"it's not the toilet." tracey points at the back of the toilet, where various pipes (she didn't know toilets had so many pipes until now!) are sticking out and spilling all over the floor. "that's the ghost."
ernie looks around. "i don't see a ghost."
"i know i'm short," tracey says irritably, "but honestly, can't you see i'm right here in front of you?"
ernie stares. "first you're a vampire, and now you're a ghost?"
+++
"i don't know why you think i'm a vampire," tracey says almost a half an hour later, when the floor is dry (mostly) and they've made breakfast from the scraps of food in her fridge. "i am out in the daytime on an almost daily basis."
"i was referring," ernie replies, "to the Incident."
"Incident?" tracey asks innocently, even though she knows exactly what he's talking about.
ernie sighs. "the time you got drunk and fed on muggleborns."
tracey bursts out laughing and nearly knocks over her pumpkin juice. luckily, ernie catches it ("for your carpet's sake," he says, shaking his head). "that's mudbloods, ernest. it's an alcoholic beverage. and for the record, you drink beverages, you don't feed on them."
"that's not what it sounded like," ernie says stubbornly. "i don't know why you'd name a drink mudblood, anyway. don't you think that's creepy?"
"not any more creepy than your girlfriend," tracey says, and then claps a hand over her mouth. "oops."
+++
it's when ernie is gone that tracey hears the tapping on the window. at first she thinks it's the ghost, but when it doesn't go away, she looks up. an owl is sitting on the ledge of her closed window, looking at her impatiently.
and really, between the drowned cat look of her carpet, the burned frying pans on her stove, and the smell of smoke still lingering in her nose (not to mention the disaster she just made of her chances with Ernest), tracey thinks it's about time to go back to bed. but she knows that owl, and one simply does not refuse to open the window for your mother's owl.
Tracey darling,
He'll get there before this owl does, but I thought I'd write and tell you that your brother is coming to visit. I think the number of loos in this house frustrates him, and he misses you.
You might want to put Impervius charms on your floor and any valuable items.
Love,
Your Mum
"joshua," tracey says to the air, "if you weren't already dead, i might have to kill you."