Fic: Tavern Wenches, Topical ointments, Trebuchet MS font
Title: Tavern Wenches, Topical ointments, Trebuchet MS font
Series: 1_million_words prompts
Rating: G
Characters: Steve/Danny, Grace, Mr. Hoppy
Summary: Here are the T prompts.
Words: exactly 500
Warnings/Notes: None. Silliness. Some misuse of language for the greater good. (We have descended into madness! Though this be madness, yet there is method in't. Also, if anyone wants the references for the Shakespeare quotes, I'll be glad to provide them. It just seemed to cluttery to put them in.)
~o0o~
“All right,” Dr. Naeema said when he returned. “I spoke to the doctors at Tripler. There have a couple of reported cases of rabbit to Human transference of alliteration. No reported cases of it transmuting into rhyming couplets.”
“Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth
In strange eruptions,” Steve said.
“And they certainly have never heard of anyone quoting Shakespeare,” Dr. Naeema said.
“What can we do?” Danny asked.
“The doctors said that the one thing they found to get the alien virus out of the system was drinking. Sufficient consumption of alcohol may destroy the invaders.”
“I need to take him home and get him drunk,” Danny said.
“That’s the report,” Dr. Naeema agreed. “I have this topical ointment. It’s a different antibiotic than the one in the first prescription.”
“Why, sir, for my part I say the gentleman had drunk himself out of his five senses,” Steve said.
“Let’s hope so,” Danny said. “What do you want to drink, babe?”
Steve took out his phone and texted it to Danny. Bourbon was all it said.
“Of course. A drink that starts with B,” Danny confirmed. “Okay. Let’s get you home and drunk.”
Steve nodded, shaking the doctor’s hand before leaving with Danny. “A man cannot make him laugh - but that’s no marvel; he drinks no wine,” Steve said when they were in the car.
“The doctor never drinks?” Danny asked.
Steve shook his head, looking out the window at the passing scenery.
“If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work.”
“We’ll be back to work as soon as you can hold a normal conversation,” Danny promised before he stopped for the Bourbon.
Once they were inside the house, Danny told Steve to change into sleepwear because he wasn’t going to haul his heavy ass up the steps after he was drunk out of his mind. Steve quickly changed and settled on the couch, accepting the tumbler of Bourbon, something else he ordinarily wouldn’t consume.
Danny put on a mindless movie, figuring the entertainment would come from Steve soon enough.
“Tavern wench,” Steve said, holding up his empty glass. “More I say.”
“Of course,” Danny laughed, filling it up. It was working. Steve said it without quoting, alliterations, or rhymes. “You want something to eat with your alcohol?”
“Toast with butter and fried eggs.”
“All right,” Danny said, going into the kitchen to fulfill Steve’s request.
“You know what pisses me off?” Steve asked as he staggered in to lean against a cabinet, the only thing holding him up.
“I can think of quite a few things. You have one particular thing in mind?”
“Trebuchet MS font,” Steve announced. “It thinks it’s so cute. It thinks it’s so special. And it’s san serif. Where are the feet? What did they do to the…things-a-ma-jigs?”
“I don’t know,” Danny said, handing Steve a plate with his dinner on it. “I’ve never thought about it.”
“It’s not so special,” Steve said around a mouthful of food.
Series: 1_million_words prompts
Rating: G
Characters: Steve/Danny, Grace, Mr. Hoppy
Summary: Here are the T prompts.
Words: exactly 500
Warnings/Notes: None. Silliness. Some misuse of language for the greater good. (We have descended into madness! Though this be madness, yet there is method in't. Also, if anyone wants the references for the Shakespeare quotes, I'll be glad to provide them. It just seemed to cluttery to put them in.)
~o0o~
“All right,” Dr. Naeema said when he returned. “I spoke to the doctors at Tripler. There have a couple of reported cases of rabbit to Human transference of alliteration. No reported cases of it transmuting into rhyming couplets.”
“Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth
In strange eruptions,” Steve said.
“And they certainly have never heard of anyone quoting Shakespeare,” Dr. Naeema said.
“What can we do?” Danny asked.
“The doctors said that the one thing they found to get the alien virus out of the system was drinking. Sufficient consumption of alcohol may destroy the invaders.”
“I need to take him home and get him drunk,” Danny said.
“That’s the report,” Dr. Naeema agreed. “I have this topical ointment. It’s a different antibiotic than the one in the first prescription.”
“Why, sir, for my part I say the gentleman had drunk himself out of his five senses,” Steve said.
“Let’s hope so,” Danny said. “What do you want to drink, babe?”
Steve took out his phone and texted it to Danny. Bourbon was all it said.
“Of course. A drink that starts with B,” Danny confirmed. “Okay. Let’s get you home and drunk.”
Steve nodded, shaking the doctor’s hand before leaving with Danny. “A man cannot make him laugh - but that’s no marvel; he drinks no wine,” Steve said when they were in the car.
“The doctor never drinks?” Danny asked.
Steve shook his head, looking out the window at the passing scenery.
“If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work.”
“We’ll be back to work as soon as you can hold a normal conversation,” Danny promised before he stopped for the Bourbon.
Once they were inside the house, Danny told Steve to change into sleepwear because he wasn’t going to haul his heavy ass up the steps after he was drunk out of his mind. Steve quickly changed and settled on the couch, accepting the tumbler of Bourbon, something else he ordinarily wouldn’t consume.
Danny put on a mindless movie, figuring the entertainment would come from Steve soon enough.
“Tavern wench,” Steve said, holding up his empty glass. “More I say.”
“Of course,” Danny laughed, filling it up. It was working. Steve said it without quoting, alliterations, or rhymes. “You want something to eat with your alcohol?”
“Toast with butter and fried eggs.”
“All right,” Danny said, going into the kitchen to fulfill Steve’s request.
“You know what pisses me off?” Steve asked as he staggered in to lean against a cabinet, the only thing holding him up.
“I can think of quite a few things. You have one particular thing in mind?”
“Trebuchet MS font,” Steve announced. “It thinks it’s so cute. It thinks it’s so special. And it’s san serif. Where are the feet? What did they do to the…things-a-ma-jigs?”
“I don’t know,” Danny said, handing Steve a plate with his dinner on it. “I’ve never thought about it.”
“It’s not so special,” Steve said around a mouthful of food.