[Frasier] Don’t Touch the Glass
Title: Don’t Touch the Glass
Author: doorway
Fandom: Frasier
Characters/Pairings: Frasier, Roz, Daphne, Martin
Length: 1,600
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Prompt: 146. Fraisier -- Ensemble -- “There can’t be zombies in Seattle! It just isn’t done!”
“And whom do we have next, Roz?”
“We have Fred, calling from right here in Seattle. He’s having trouble focusing his attention and feels as though it’s holding him back from getting a promotion at work.”
“Go ahead, Fred - I’m listening.”
The line crackled and a low groaning sound came from the other end.
“Fred? Fred, can you hear me?” The line was silent, but for the soft moaning which seemed to be coming from far away. “Hm. We seem to be having a little trouble with the line,” said Frasier. “Tell you what, Fred, as it’s nearing the end of the show, why don’t you call back tomorrow, and I’ll have Roz put you straight through, how does that sound?”
Groan.
“Excellent. Well, as we now seem to be out of time, I’ll leave you with this brief message from our sponsors. This is Doctor Frasier Crane saying good day, Seattle, and good mental health.”
He flicked the switch on the microphone and pulled off his headphones. Roz came through to his booth and rolled her eyes.
“I’ve been getting calls like that all day,” she said. “At first I thought it was one of my ex-boyfriends - you remember that creep, Antonio?”
“No, Roz, I can’t say that I do. There have been, after all, so many creeps.”
“Well, that’s the sort of thing he used to do all the time when we dated,” she said. “So of course I thought it was him calling me, trying to wind me up, or win me back - I’m not really sure. But then I started getting two or three all at the same time. The switch was full of ‘em. That Fred guy was the only one who sounded normal. But then he comes on and starts doing it. I wonder what’s up with that?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Roz,” said Frasier, standing up and beginning to put his papers into his briefcase. “Probably just another one of Bulldog’s so hilarious pranks to attempt to wrong-foot me. Well! I’m not going to rise to it.”
“That’s all right for you, you only had to listen to one of ‘em.”
“Now, Roz. I’m sure it’s nothing you’re not used to.”
“Oh, ha, ha,” she said, without much humour. “Go on, get out. Your brother called earlier to remind me you have reservations at some fancy-schmancy restaurant tonight at eight.”
“It is not a fancy-schmancy restaurant, Roz, it is only the finest-”
She groaned exaggeratedly. “I don’t care.”
“Of course you don’t. Expecting you to know the names of the finest eating establishments this city has to offer would be, I fear, too much to ask of you.” Frasier sniffed.
“Oh, just go. Have fun!” she called after him as he nodded to her and left the booth.
/
But Frasier did not have fun. By the time he arrived home, he was no longer as excited about his plans to eat with Niles. It had been raining heavily, he had had a bird swoop overhead and defecate on his coat, and worst of all, a stranger had lunged at him as he was walking up to the front door of his building and attempted first to grab his umbrella, then take a bite out of his hand. He had managed to use the umbrella to swat the vagrant off, but it had rather shaken him. On the plus side, however, traffic had been light. He was rather looking forward to a warm cup of camomile tea.
“Ooh!” he announced, as he walked through the door, his face stormy. “You would not believe the afternoon I have had.”
“Shh,” said his father, hand-waving away his complaints and gesturing towards the television. As Frasier quietly grumbled and made his way to hang up his sodden coat, Martin said, “Have you heard about this, Frasier? It’s all over the news!”
“What is?” asked Frasier. “That Seattle townsfolk have lost all sense of common courtesy?”
“Sort of, yeah,” said Martin. “Look.”
Frasier looked. The television was showing an interview with a frightened-looking and teary-eyed woman talking about her experience with an aggravated stranger.
“At first, I thought he was going to mug me,” she was saying, “but he didn’t have a knife or anything, he just leapt at me and started biting me on the arm. It took three guys to pull him off of me.”
According to the voice-over, experts believed this spate of unusual behaviour was due to the outbreak of a virus, but were as of yet uncertain which one. The screen changed to show a picture of a doctor in a white lab coat.
“It’s zombies,” he said flatly. “I’ve been telling them for years that something like this would happen. Zombies, people! No-one is safe.”
“Hah!” said Martin. “Zombies! Didn’t think I’d live to see the day. C’mere, Eddie.” The little terrier scampered over to him and leapt onto his lap. “Bet you’ll fight ‘em off, won’t you, boy?” Eddie whined and nuzzled Martin’s hand, looking for a treat.
Behind them, Daphne, who had been cleaning the table, snorted. “Fat lot of good he’ll do, the little thing. What’s he going to do, yap them to death?”
“Well, they’re already dead,” said Martin reasonably.
“Dad, would you stop?” said Frasier irritably. “I’ve had just the worst afternoon. I, too, was attacked in the streets by one of these crazed... ohh, crazed...”
“Zombies?” suggested Daphne.
“Lunatics!” snarled Frasier. “Daphne,” he added sweetly, “you couldn’t make me a cup of camomomile tea, could you?” She huffed and went into the kitchen.
“If you’ve been bitten, Frase, that means you’ve got the virus,” said Martin. “We’re gonna have to throw you off the balcony,” he suggested gaily.
“Oh, ha, ha,” said Frasier, taking a seat on the sofa and laying his head back, closing his eyes. “If I experience a craving for human flesh, I’ll be sure to let you know immediately.”
“Good. Then we can lock you up in one of those places for the criminally insane, with the glass walls. A census taker once tried to test me-” he began.
“Oh, Dad, please. Is that really necessary?” Martin made a hissing noise. “You stop that at once.”
“Gee, Frase, I’m only tryin’ to have a little fun. The way you’re acting, anyone would think you’re scared we actually are having a zombie apocalypse.”
“Laugh all you want, but there’s something going on out there. Those people are ill. I’d put one or two down to drug use, but this seems to be city-wide. Come to think of it...” He trailed off, remembering the strange, groaning calls Roz had told him about.
“What?” said Martin.
“Oh, nothing, nothing,” said Frasier. “Have you seen Niles at all today?”
“No,” said Martin. “I thought he was coming over later? He said you two were going to some fancy-schmancy-”
“Yes, that’s right,” snapped Frasier.
Daphne came in with a steaming mug of tea and set it down in front of him. “I haven’t seen Doctor Crane since yesterday. Perhaps he’s not been able to call because he’s been turned into one of the undead,” she said with a cackle.
“Hey, Daphne,” said Martin. “Frasier was attacked by one of the zombies before he got home. D’you think he’s infected?”
“Ooh, now, imagine that,” said Daphne. “A doctor of the mind turned into a walking corpse. Fancy that for a bit of irony. You do know, Doctor Crane, if you’re going to be eating human flesh I’d much rather you didn’t do it in here; I’ve just spent all morning vacuuming the sofa, and I don’t want to be spending the remainder of my life before I’m infected getting bloodstains out. It wouldn’t be so bad, I suppose, if you cooked it like one of your fancy dishes-Oh! Don’t touch the glass-”
“Doctor - Lecter - was - not - not - a zombie!” snapped Frasier. “He - was - simply - a - cannibal!”
“All right, all right, keep your head on,” said Martin. “Ours, too, if it’s not too much trouble,” he added quietly.
Frasier grumbled and picked up his mug of camomile tea. “This really is too much to deal with,” he muttered. “There cannot be zombies in Seattle. It just isn’t done!”
“Doctor Eichelberger would beg to differ,” said Daphne, motioning to the TV.
“And I’m sure Doctor Eichelberger’s degree is fully valid and not from a shady establishment calling itself a university somewhere in the Caribbean.”
“Say what you like,” said Daphne, “but I always knew it would come to this. It’s just like my Grammy Moon always said,” she said with a sigh, and left for the kitchen without elaborating.
Frasier sighed and laid his head back on the sofa cushion, mug of tea clutched to his chest. Oh, it had been a long day... A long and tiring day...
He must have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing he knew, he was blinking awake in his own bed. He sat up, disorientated, and blinked a few times. Oh. It had all been a dream. A ridiculous, over-the-top, end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it dream. He wouldn’t mention it to Niles, he thought. No doubt his brother would find something in it to snark at him about over dinner for the next three months.
He was about to get up and out of bed when he heard Daphne shriek.
“Eddie! What’ve you got there? Eugh, it’s rotten! Don’t trail it over my nice clean carpet. Did you pick it up at the park?”
Muffled, Martin’s voice came through Frasier’s bedroom door. “Oh, God... Eddie...”
“Is that a human hand?!”
Author: doorway
Fandom: Frasier
Characters/Pairings: Frasier, Roz, Daphne, Martin
Length: 1,600
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Warnings: None
Prompt: 146. Fraisier -- Ensemble -- “There can’t be zombies in Seattle! It just isn’t done!”
“And whom do we have next, Roz?”
“We have Fred, calling from right here in Seattle. He’s having trouble focusing his attention and feels as though it’s holding him back from getting a promotion at work.”
“Go ahead, Fred - I’m listening.”
The line crackled and a low groaning sound came from the other end.
“Fred? Fred, can you hear me?” The line was silent, but for the soft moaning which seemed to be coming from far away. “Hm. We seem to be having a little trouble with the line,” said Frasier. “Tell you what, Fred, as it’s nearing the end of the show, why don’t you call back tomorrow, and I’ll have Roz put you straight through, how does that sound?”
Groan.
“Excellent. Well, as we now seem to be out of time, I’ll leave you with this brief message from our sponsors. This is Doctor Frasier Crane saying good day, Seattle, and good mental health.”
He flicked the switch on the microphone and pulled off his headphones. Roz came through to his booth and rolled her eyes.
“I’ve been getting calls like that all day,” she said. “At first I thought it was one of my ex-boyfriends - you remember that creep, Antonio?”
“No, Roz, I can’t say that I do. There have been, after all, so many creeps.”
“Well, that’s the sort of thing he used to do all the time when we dated,” she said. “So of course I thought it was him calling me, trying to wind me up, or win me back - I’m not really sure. But then I started getting two or three all at the same time. The switch was full of ‘em. That Fred guy was the only one who sounded normal. But then he comes on and starts doing it. I wonder what’s up with that?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Roz,” said Frasier, standing up and beginning to put his papers into his briefcase. “Probably just another one of Bulldog’s so hilarious pranks to attempt to wrong-foot me. Well! I’m not going to rise to it.”
“That’s all right for you, you only had to listen to one of ‘em.”
“Now, Roz. I’m sure it’s nothing you’re not used to.”
“Oh, ha, ha,” she said, without much humour. “Go on, get out. Your brother called earlier to remind me you have reservations at some fancy-schmancy restaurant tonight at eight.”
“It is not a fancy-schmancy restaurant, Roz, it is only the finest-”
She groaned exaggeratedly. “I don’t care.”
“Of course you don’t. Expecting you to know the names of the finest eating establishments this city has to offer would be, I fear, too much to ask of you.” Frasier sniffed.
“Oh, just go. Have fun!” she called after him as he nodded to her and left the booth.
/
But Frasier did not have fun. By the time he arrived home, he was no longer as excited about his plans to eat with Niles. It had been raining heavily, he had had a bird swoop overhead and defecate on his coat, and worst of all, a stranger had lunged at him as he was walking up to the front door of his building and attempted first to grab his umbrella, then take a bite out of his hand. He had managed to use the umbrella to swat the vagrant off, but it had rather shaken him. On the plus side, however, traffic had been light. He was rather looking forward to a warm cup of camomile tea.
“Ooh!” he announced, as he walked through the door, his face stormy. “You would not believe the afternoon I have had.”
“Shh,” said his father, hand-waving away his complaints and gesturing towards the television. As Frasier quietly grumbled and made his way to hang up his sodden coat, Martin said, “Have you heard about this, Frasier? It’s all over the news!”
“What is?” asked Frasier. “That Seattle townsfolk have lost all sense of common courtesy?”
“Sort of, yeah,” said Martin. “Look.”
Frasier looked. The television was showing an interview with a frightened-looking and teary-eyed woman talking about her experience with an aggravated stranger.
“At first, I thought he was going to mug me,” she was saying, “but he didn’t have a knife or anything, he just leapt at me and started biting me on the arm. It took three guys to pull him off of me.”
According to the voice-over, experts believed this spate of unusual behaviour was due to the outbreak of a virus, but were as of yet uncertain which one. The screen changed to show a picture of a doctor in a white lab coat.
“It’s zombies,” he said flatly. “I’ve been telling them for years that something like this would happen. Zombies, people! No-one is safe.”
“Hah!” said Martin. “Zombies! Didn’t think I’d live to see the day. C’mere, Eddie.” The little terrier scampered over to him and leapt onto his lap. “Bet you’ll fight ‘em off, won’t you, boy?” Eddie whined and nuzzled Martin’s hand, looking for a treat.
Behind them, Daphne, who had been cleaning the table, snorted. “Fat lot of good he’ll do, the little thing. What’s he going to do, yap them to death?”
“Well, they’re already dead,” said Martin reasonably.
“Dad, would you stop?” said Frasier irritably. “I’ve had just the worst afternoon. I, too, was attacked in the streets by one of these crazed... ohh, crazed...”
“Zombies?” suggested Daphne.
“Lunatics!” snarled Frasier. “Daphne,” he added sweetly, “you couldn’t make me a cup of camomomile tea, could you?” She huffed and went into the kitchen.
“If you’ve been bitten, Frase, that means you’ve got the virus,” said Martin. “We’re gonna have to throw you off the balcony,” he suggested gaily.
“Oh, ha, ha,” said Frasier, taking a seat on the sofa and laying his head back, closing his eyes. “If I experience a craving for human flesh, I’ll be sure to let you know immediately.”
“Good. Then we can lock you up in one of those places for the criminally insane, with the glass walls. A census taker once tried to test me-” he began.
“Oh, Dad, please. Is that really necessary?” Martin made a hissing noise. “You stop that at once.”
“Gee, Frase, I’m only tryin’ to have a little fun. The way you’re acting, anyone would think you’re scared we actually are having a zombie apocalypse.”
“Laugh all you want, but there’s something going on out there. Those people are ill. I’d put one or two down to drug use, but this seems to be city-wide. Come to think of it...” He trailed off, remembering the strange, groaning calls Roz had told him about.
“What?” said Martin.
“Oh, nothing, nothing,” said Frasier. “Have you seen Niles at all today?”
“No,” said Martin. “I thought he was coming over later? He said you two were going to some fancy-schmancy-”
“Yes, that’s right,” snapped Frasier.
Daphne came in with a steaming mug of tea and set it down in front of him. “I haven’t seen Doctor Crane since yesterday. Perhaps he’s not been able to call because he’s been turned into one of the undead,” she said with a cackle.
“Hey, Daphne,” said Martin. “Frasier was attacked by one of the zombies before he got home. D’you think he’s infected?”
“Ooh, now, imagine that,” said Daphne. “A doctor of the mind turned into a walking corpse. Fancy that for a bit of irony. You do know, Doctor Crane, if you’re going to be eating human flesh I’d much rather you didn’t do it in here; I’ve just spent all morning vacuuming the sofa, and I don’t want to be spending the remainder of my life before I’m infected getting bloodstains out. It wouldn’t be so bad, I suppose, if you cooked it like one of your fancy dishes-Oh! Don’t touch the glass-”
“Doctor - Lecter - was - not - not - a zombie!” snapped Frasier. “He - was - simply - a - cannibal!”
“All right, all right, keep your head on,” said Martin. “Ours, too, if it’s not too much trouble,” he added quietly.
Frasier grumbled and picked up his mug of camomile tea. “This really is too much to deal with,” he muttered. “There cannot be zombies in Seattle. It just isn’t done!”
“Doctor Eichelberger would beg to differ,” said Daphne, motioning to the TV.
“And I’m sure Doctor Eichelberger’s degree is fully valid and not from a shady establishment calling itself a university somewhere in the Caribbean.”
“Say what you like,” said Daphne, “but I always knew it would come to this. It’s just like my Grammy Moon always said,” she said with a sigh, and left for the kitchen without elaborating.
Frasier sighed and laid his head back on the sofa cushion, mug of tea clutched to his chest. Oh, it had been a long day... A long and tiring day...
He must have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing he knew, he was blinking awake in his own bed. He sat up, disorientated, and blinked a few times. Oh. It had all been a dream. A ridiculous, over-the-top, end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it dream. He wouldn’t mention it to Niles, he thought. No doubt his brother would find something in it to snark at him about over dinner for the next three months.
He was about to get up and out of bed when he heard Daphne shriek.
“Eddie! What’ve you got there? Eugh, it’s rotten! Don’t trail it over my nice clean carpet. Did you pick it up at the park?”
Muffled, Martin’s voice came through Frasier’s bedroom door. “Oh, God... Eddie...”
“Is that a human hand?!”