(no subject)
title: a red devil’s livejournal (5/?)
rating: PG
pairings: a few implied, but nothing yet. we'll see.
author's note: you probably already know by now this is all crack. just something i conjured up with my warped mind. so enjoy. i know it's been a while since i last updated. im slowly getting my 'funny' back. slowly. haha. as always, thank you everyone for the reviews!
five.
It is Thursday morning, and the gaffer had called every single one of the players to help with the move. (“Consider this a work out session, boys. I expect you all to be here not a minute later than seven.”) Cris is walking beside Wayne. His hair is a mess this morning, and his curls stick up in every which way. Wayne has the slightest urge to uncurl one of them, and watch as it curls again. Wayne is lost in his thoughts, not even realizing that the Portuguese was gaping at him, waiting for an answer to a question he didn‘t hear. “Em. I’m sorry, what?”
“Ronnie say, do you have comb?”
Wayne wants to laugh. “Do I look like someone who’d have a comb?”
“You have hair. So yes.”
“Well, no. I don’t. I hardly have any use for it. If you haven’t noticed, all my hair does is lie flat.”
Cris frowns, running his hands through his hair.
***
“Oi, Fletch. What the fuck are you doing? Get your skinny arse from that couch, and do something!” Gary scolds a box full of pots and pans in his arms. Darren rolls his eyes, until an exasperated Paul Scholes pushes him from behind.
“You could’ve asked nicely, ya know,” the Scot mutters from his place on the ground. “I would’ve done what I was told.”
“I didn’t want to waste my breathe,” Paul says, and calls Ryan to help him carry the furniture. “Why don’t you go over there and help Wayne -”
“Oh sure, whatever you say, Scholesy…” Darren gets up and attempts to trip the ginger haired man, but fails miserably - tripping himself instead. Which results in a roar of laughter from the two older men, who shake their head and make their way towards the truck.
***
“Is this normal?”
“No, I really don’t think so.”
“This is really not something I want to see.”
Rio and Michael are in the gaffer’s bedroom, as they were instructed. Mrs. Ferguson had asked them to sort out all their boss’s clothes, since the man himself hadn’t done it weeks before when she told him to. Michael looked at Rio, then back at the drawers. “Here, I’ll take the closet - you can sort those out.”
“I’ve got a better idea. How about I take the closet -”
“I called it first!”
“Look here, Mikey. I’m a defender - you’re... well, not.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You didn’t let me finish!” the midfielder stares at him, waiting. “Okay, it really doesn’t have to do with anything, but like I was saying - I’ll take the closet.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“There’s only one way to settle this.”
“What is that?” Carrick moves towards the window, and sticks his head outside, “Shit man. No need to commit suicide over this.” He rolls his eyes, and yells for Wes Brown who was trying to figure a way to fit 10 chairs neatly into a limited space in the truck.
“Wes!”
“What -”
“Up here, you twat!”
Wes looks up, and nods. “What do you want? I’m kind of busy here -”
“Rio and I have a little bit of a dilemma. We need you to pick a number between 1 and 20 to solve our problems.”
“Alright,” he answers unsurely, “Go.”
“One!”
“Fifteen!”
“You lose Rio.”
“Fuck.”
***
“Look, Wayne, do you mind keeping an eye on Noah and Karna? Just for a little bit, I swear -” (He reluctantly agrees) “Thank you. I’ll just be in the yard getting some other boxes. Shouldn’t take too long. You two, behave, okay?” Ole walks off towards the back, leaving Wayne with two of the Norwegian’s children.
“Uh, hi.” he mutters lamely.
“What is that?” the little girl asks, pointing towards his face, and he’s almost offended until he realizes there was just an insect on him. “Ew.”
“It was just a fly, or something.”
“It didn‘t have wings.”
“Then it was an ant.”
“Look, there it is again!”
Wayne averts his eyes to the side, and nearly screams in fear. “Holy fruitcake!” And without a second thought, the striker sprints away from his previous spot. Panting, and gasping, until he thought he was a good few yards away. The two kids follow him soon after, at a walking pace, laughing. “God. I fuckin’ hate spiders.”
“We couldn’t tell.”
***
“Scholesy! Do you mind?”
“Yes, I do, actually.”
“Move, before -”
“You kick me? Let me remind you the Boss is only around the corner.”
“Just because you just had surgery on that knee of yours - doesn’t mean you can fuckin’ block my way - now would you move before I drop everything?” A moment, then, “Paul!”
“I was moving,” he snorted, “You just couldn’t hold it long enough.”
Gary looks down at the scattered objects, before glaring at his team mate.
“Violence is not the answer, mate.”
“Then I advise you to run.”
“Best advice you’ve ever had -” and Scholes sprints toward Ryan, and hides behind him. “Your lover boy is trying to kiss me, Ry. I told him no but he just won’t listen.”
Gary tries to get around Ryan, only to be grabbed by the collar. “Ryan, what the fuck?”
“Leave Scholes alone.”
“Yeah, Gaz.” Paul adds, sticking his tongue out, before walking away. “Thanks Giggsy. Ole and I appreciate it.”
“I can’t believe you just did that - I could’ve had him!”
The Englishman is met with a smack to the head.
“Just fuckin’ fantastic. What was that for?”
***
Nemanja and John are in the kitchen setting up plates with chips and sandwiches for everyone.
“I don’t understand why the Gaffer didn’t trust me doing this alone.”
“Because you eat all chips. Remember last time?”
“No,” John answers, his eyes shifting a bit. “That must’ve been Rio, or someone.”
“No. It you.” Vida laughs, “Rio hit you in head with football. Maybe that why you not remember.”
***
“Oh! Look who decided to finally show up.”
Owen walks up the front lawn, turning around to lock his car.
“It’s the German - the one who rocks the curls!”
“Sorry. I had an appointment with the fitness trainer.”
“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, curly,” Rio laughs.
Gary and Paul are sitting under a tree, arguing as usual. “What does it matter anyways? It’s bound to happen!”
“I do not have gray hair, you wanker! I would know!”
“Then what do you call that,” Paul picks at his head, “a hair tourist?”
“Sod off, you git!”
“Hi,” Owen smiles, walking over to them, with a small wave. “What’s up?”
“The sky.”
“You’re fuckin’ lame, Paul. Hey Hargreaves.”
“Lame, but witty.”
“No, just lame.”
“Says the one with gray hair.”
“IT IS NOT GRAY!”
“Soooo.” Owen nods, uncomfortably, “Lovely weather we’re having, yeah?”
The older men stare at him, not saying anything. And Owen internally curses himself for saying anything.
***
“Why you have bigger piece than Ronnie!”
“I don’t know,” Wayne says, looking at both their sandwiches. “Vida can’t cut evenly.”
Cris pouts, poking at his ‘smaller’ meal.
“Fine,” the striker says exasperated. “I’ll trade you, happy?”
“No, you only do because Ronnie sad.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Ronnie want you to want to give it to him.”
Wayne looks at him (more like gapes at him).
“Ron, I’m going to give you my sandwich. I don’t need to ‘want’ to give it to you. I just am.”
“Ronnie don’t want, then.”
“I don’t understand you!”
“I SPEAK ENGLISH! HOW YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?”
The Englishman grabs his sandwich and swaps with the winger, while Cris just looks at his plate. “No-”
“I want to give it to you. Now just eat it, okay?”
“Okay.” And he smiles.
***
Darren’s phone rings, and he answers.
“Hel- hey! Hey! How are you?”
“Who the hell would possibly call Fletcher?” Ryan whispers to Nemanja, who shrugs and mutters a (“his mom?”)
“Yeah, they’re all good. Just taking a break from moving - yeah, we’re helping the Gaffer…” The Scot covers the phone momentarily and says, “It’s Smudge. He says hi.”
“Tell him I said he still owes me a CD,” Rio says.
“HI SMUDGE!”
“SMUDGEEEEEE!”
“Hold on, let me put you on speaker - okay, there.”
“Tell Rio I said I’ll only give it to him if, and only if, he can keep me from scoring when we meet.”
“Ooooohhhh,” Rio laughs. “He’s been gone, what? A week? And he’s already talkin’ smack. You got yourself a deal, blondie.”
“Tell Cris he’s going to need to send me some of his hair products - my hair has been lookin’ like shite.”
“It’s always looked shite.”
“You know what? Shut up.”
“Is that how you talk to your former captain?”
“What can I say - I never liked you.”
“Ha, ha. Funny. Go on, tell me how much you miss me.”
“Er - I don’t?” And a laugh, “I’m joking.”
“You better have been, or I would’ve broke Darren’s phone.”
“Hey!”
“So since I’m not at the club anymore. There’s something I’ve wanted to bring to your attention -” Alan pauses for dramatic effects, “I hope you’ve found someone just as slutty as I.”
***
It was nearly eight o’clock in the evening, and it was dark. Everything was packed in the truck, and the house was empty. The Gaffer stands in front of his players, and thanks them for their help. “Although I could’ve done with all the bickering - but I’ll take what I can get.”
“Next time, we should have some duct tape - for Scholesy’s mouth.” Gary suggests.
“I’ll bring some black dye - so you don’t blind anyone with your grays.”
“Why you -”
“Oi, lads. Cease with the arguments, yeah?” The two Englishmen sit quietly. “Anyways, you’re all free to go now. I’ll see you all tomorrow for training.” A series of groans was the response, before he adds, “Unless you’d much rather help unpack everything, again.” Which is quickly met with “No” and “No, thanks.”
***
My wand is ten inches long… (theboywhoscored) wrote on August 9, 2007.
CRISTIANO & RIO. YOU BOTH ARE FUCKIN’ TWATS.
ilikejello commented:
What? What we do?
imsofly commented:
We are innocent. *angel face*
theboywhoscored replied:
I almost jumped out of my car!
imsofly replied:
Is it our fault you’re crazy?
ilikejello replied:
Car for driving, not jumping, Wayne.
theboywhoscored replied:
Gits! The both of you! I know you put that plastic spider in the passenger seat.
gingerspice commented:
Come on now, even they are not that clever.
theboywhoscored replied:
It was you?!?!?
FIN.
notes:
+ as most of you know, sir alex couldn't accompany his squad yesterday to the dunfermline match, because his missus ordered him to stay and help move house. haha. so that bit is true. the rest? not so much.
rating: PG
pairings: a few implied, but nothing yet. we'll see.
author's note: you probably already know by now this is all crack. just something i conjured up with my warped mind. so enjoy. i know it's been a while since i last updated. im slowly getting my 'funny' back. slowly. haha. as always, thank you everyone for the reviews!
five.
It is Thursday morning, and the gaffer had called every single one of the players to help with the move. (“Consider this a work out session, boys. I expect you all to be here not a minute later than seven.”) Cris is walking beside Wayne. His hair is a mess this morning, and his curls stick up in every which way. Wayne has the slightest urge to uncurl one of them, and watch as it curls again. Wayne is lost in his thoughts, not even realizing that the Portuguese was gaping at him, waiting for an answer to a question he didn‘t hear. “Em. I’m sorry, what?”
“Ronnie say, do you have comb?”
Wayne wants to laugh. “Do I look like someone who’d have a comb?”
“You have hair. So yes.”
“Well, no. I don’t. I hardly have any use for it. If you haven’t noticed, all my hair does is lie flat.”
Cris frowns, running his hands through his hair.
***
“Oi, Fletch. What the fuck are you doing? Get your skinny arse from that couch, and do something!” Gary scolds a box full of pots and pans in his arms. Darren rolls his eyes, until an exasperated Paul Scholes pushes him from behind.
“You could’ve asked nicely, ya know,” the Scot mutters from his place on the ground. “I would’ve done what I was told.”
“I didn’t want to waste my breathe,” Paul says, and calls Ryan to help him carry the furniture. “Why don’t you go over there and help Wayne -”
“Oh sure, whatever you say, Scholesy…” Darren gets up and attempts to trip the ginger haired man, but fails miserably - tripping himself instead. Which results in a roar of laughter from the two older men, who shake their head and make their way towards the truck.
***
“Is this normal?”
“No, I really don’t think so.”
“This is really not something I want to see.”
Rio and Michael are in the gaffer’s bedroom, as they were instructed. Mrs. Ferguson had asked them to sort out all their boss’s clothes, since the man himself hadn’t done it weeks before when she told him to. Michael looked at Rio, then back at the drawers. “Here, I’ll take the closet - you can sort those out.”
“I’ve got a better idea. How about I take the closet -”
“I called it first!”
“Look here, Mikey. I’m a defender - you’re... well, not.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You didn’t let me finish!” the midfielder stares at him, waiting. “Okay, it really doesn’t have to do with anything, but like I was saying - I’ll take the closet.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“There’s only one way to settle this.”
“What is that?” Carrick moves towards the window, and sticks his head outside, “Shit man. No need to commit suicide over this.” He rolls his eyes, and yells for Wes Brown who was trying to figure a way to fit 10 chairs neatly into a limited space in the truck.
“Wes!”
“What -”
“Up here, you twat!”
Wes looks up, and nods. “What do you want? I’m kind of busy here -”
“Rio and I have a little bit of a dilemma. We need you to pick a number between 1 and 20 to solve our problems.”
“Alright,” he answers unsurely, “Go.”
“One!”
“Fifteen!”
“You lose Rio.”
“Fuck.”
***
“Look, Wayne, do you mind keeping an eye on Noah and Karna? Just for a little bit, I swear -” (He reluctantly agrees) “Thank you. I’ll just be in the yard getting some other boxes. Shouldn’t take too long. You two, behave, okay?” Ole walks off towards the back, leaving Wayne with two of the Norwegian’s children.
“Uh, hi.” he mutters lamely.
“What is that?” the little girl asks, pointing towards his face, and he’s almost offended until he realizes there was just an insect on him. “Ew.”
“It was just a fly, or something.”
“It didn‘t have wings.”
“Then it was an ant.”
“Look, there it is again!”
Wayne averts his eyes to the side, and nearly screams in fear. “Holy fruitcake!” And without a second thought, the striker sprints away from his previous spot. Panting, and gasping, until he thought he was a good few yards away. The two kids follow him soon after, at a walking pace, laughing. “God. I fuckin’ hate spiders.”
“We couldn’t tell.”
***
“Scholesy! Do you mind?”
“Yes, I do, actually.”
“Move, before -”
“You kick me? Let me remind you the Boss is only around the corner.”
“Just because you just had surgery on that knee of yours - doesn’t mean you can fuckin’ block my way - now would you move before I drop everything?” A moment, then, “Paul!”
“I was moving,” he snorted, “You just couldn’t hold it long enough.”
Gary looks down at the scattered objects, before glaring at his team mate.
“Violence is not the answer, mate.”
“Then I advise you to run.”
“Best advice you’ve ever had -” and Scholes sprints toward Ryan, and hides behind him. “Your lover boy is trying to kiss me, Ry. I told him no but he just won’t listen.”
Gary tries to get around Ryan, only to be grabbed by the collar. “Ryan, what the fuck?”
“Leave Scholes alone.”
“Yeah, Gaz.” Paul adds, sticking his tongue out, before walking away. “Thanks Giggsy. Ole and I appreciate it.”
“I can’t believe you just did that - I could’ve had him!”
The Englishman is met with a smack to the head.
“Just fuckin’ fantastic. What was that for?”
***
Nemanja and John are in the kitchen setting up plates with chips and sandwiches for everyone.
“I don’t understand why the Gaffer didn’t trust me doing this alone.”
“Because you eat all chips. Remember last time?”
“No,” John answers, his eyes shifting a bit. “That must’ve been Rio, or someone.”
“No. It you.” Vida laughs, “Rio hit you in head with football. Maybe that why you not remember.”
***
“Oh! Look who decided to finally show up.”
Owen walks up the front lawn, turning around to lock his car.
“It’s the German - the one who rocks the curls!”
“Sorry. I had an appointment with the fitness trainer.”
“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, curly,” Rio laughs.
Gary and Paul are sitting under a tree, arguing as usual. “What does it matter anyways? It’s bound to happen!”
“I do not have gray hair, you wanker! I would know!”
“Then what do you call that,” Paul picks at his head, “a hair tourist?”
“Sod off, you git!”
“Hi,” Owen smiles, walking over to them, with a small wave. “What’s up?”
“The sky.”
“You’re fuckin’ lame, Paul. Hey Hargreaves.”
“Lame, but witty.”
“No, just lame.”
“Says the one with gray hair.”
“IT IS NOT GRAY!”
“Soooo.” Owen nods, uncomfortably, “Lovely weather we’re having, yeah?”
The older men stare at him, not saying anything. And Owen internally curses himself for saying anything.
***
“Why you have bigger piece than Ronnie!”
“I don’t know,” Wayne says, looking at both their sandwiches. “Vida can’t cut evenly.”
Cris pouts, poking at his ‘smaller’ meal.
“Fine,” the striker says exasperated. “I’ll trade you, happy?”
“No, you only do because Ronnie sad.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Ronnie want you to want to give it to him.”
Wayne looks at him (more like gapes at him).
“Ron, I’m going to give you my sandwich. I don’t need to ‘want’ to give it to you. I just am.”
“Ronnie don’t want, then.”
“I don’t understand you!”
“I SPEAK ENGLISH! HOW YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?”
The Englishman grabs his sandwich and swaps with the winger, while Cris just looks at his plate. “No-”
“I want to give it to you. Now just eat it, okay?”
“Okay.” And he smiles.
***
Darren’s phone rings, and he answers.
“Hel- hey! Hey! How are you?”
“Who the hell would possibly call Fletcher?” Ryan whispers to Nemanja, who shrugs and mutters a (“his mom?”)
“Yeah, they’re all good. Just taking a break from moving - yeah, we’re helping the Gaffer…” The Scot covers the phone momentarily and says, “It’s Smudge. He says hi.”
“Tell him I said he still owes me a CD,” Rio says.
“HI SMUDGE!”
“SMUDGEEEEEE!”
“Hold on, let me put you on speaker - okay, there.”
“Tell Rio I said I’ll only give it to him if, and only if, he can keep me from scoring when we meet.”
“Ooooohhhh,” Rio laughs. “He’s been gone, what? A week? And he’s already talkin’ smack. You got yourself a deal, blondie.”
“Tell Cris he’s going to need to send me some of his hair products - my hair has been lookin’ like shite.”
“It’s always looked shite.”
“You know what? Shut up.”
“Is that how you talk to your former captain?”
“What can I say - I never liked you.”
“Ha, ha. Funny. Go on, tell me how much you miss me.”
“Er - I don’t?” And a laugh, “I’m joking.”
“You better have been, or I would’ve broke Darren’s phone.”
“Hey!”
“So since I’m not at the club anymore. There’s something I’ve wanted to bring to your attention -” Alan pauses for dramatic effects, “I hope you’ve found someone just as slutty as I.”
***
It was nearly eight o’clock in the evening, and it was dark. Everything was packed in the truck, and the house was empty. The Gaffer stands in front of his players, and thanks them for their help. “Although I could’ve done with all the bickering - but I’ll take what I can get.”
“Next time, we should have some duct tape - for Scholesy’s mouth.” Gary suggests.
“I’ll bring some black dye - so you don’t blind anyone with your grays.”
“Why you -”
“Oi, lads. Cease with the arguments, yeah?” The two Englishmen sit quietly. “Anyways, you’re all free to go now. I’ll see you all tomorrow for training.” A series of groans was the response, before he adds, “Unless you’d much rather help unpack everything, again.” Which is quickly met with “No” and “No, thanks.”
***
My wand is ten inches long… (theboywhoscored) wrote on August 9, 2007.
CRISTIANO & RIO. YOU BOTH ARE FUCKIN’ TWATS.
ilikejello commented:
What? What we do?
imsofly commented:
We are innocent. *angel face*
theboywhoscored replied:
I almost jumped out of my car!
imsofly replied:
Is it our fault you’re crazy?
ilikejello replied:
Car for driving, not jumping, Wayne.
theboywhoscored replied:
Gits! The both of you! I know you put that plastic spider in the passenger seat.
gingerspice commented:
Come on now, even they are not that clever.
theboywhoscored replied:
It was you?!?!?
FIN.
notes:
+ as most of you know, sir alex couldn't accompany his squad yesterday to the dunfermline match, because his missus ordered him to stay and help move house. haha. so that bit is true. the rest? not so much.