The Ongoing Conflict Between Rachel Berry and Her Malicious Trike (1/1)
Title: The Ongoing Conflict Between Rachel Berry and Her Malicious Trike (1/1)
Author: AwkwardGayGuy
Rating: PG=13
Length: 2107
Spoilers: None whatsoever.
Summary:
Rachel was talented in many ways. She had a long list of attributes (all conveniently cataloged in a small, golden star coated notebook she has kept in her similarly gold star coated purse since she was seven.)
A/N: Second story here, wrote at three am while having a fever dream. I think it's alright, but the unicorns and talking toothbrushes on the edge of my dragon are telling me it's crap. You decide.
Rachel was talented in many ways. She had a long list of attributes (all conveniently cataloged in a small, golden star coated notebook she has kept in her similarly gold star coated purse since she was seven.) This long list includes singing, dancing, soccer, writing, public speaking, gold mining, lego building, blowing glass, pottery, photography, lion taming, U.F.O. spotting, tornado chasing, extreme ironing -the list goes on and on. There was only one mainstream hobby that many other normal people could do that she could not even conceive of doing. This activity was the bane of her existence, the Jets to her Sharks, the Agamemnon to her Achilles, the Jar Jar binks to her whole entire validity of the Star Wars franchise. This great evil, this instrument of torture was dreaded by Rachel.
It was her tricycle.
Yes, you may be wondering. Her tricycle? You've got to be pulling my leg out of it's poor sockets! Rachel Berry can do anything! Sadly, no this isn't the case. She can do everything but ride a tricycle.
She first came into contact with this horrendous device at her 3rd birthday. After a delightful waking up call by her dads, (which included breakfast in bed with Gypsy playing the the background, her favorite at the time) she was forced downstairs into the garage adjacent to their home. Rachel, in her bunny slippers and similarly patterned bunny pajamas and sleeping cap was quite cold in this garage. So when her dad brought out for her a small tricycle that they had singlehandedly spent hours placing golden star stickers on every surface of the trike she squealed with delight. She began to inspect the bike, making sure every surface was practically carpeted in stickers. She eventually found one spot underneath the handlebars that was not full to the brim with stickers and began to sob loudly. Her fathers attempted to do damage control by running upstairs to fetch the endless supply of stickers and with due haste covered that spot. Rachel of course, stopped wailing like a madwoman and continued her inspection. When she gave her fathers each a hug and a thank you she set out on her brave mission of riding her trike for the first time. Her dads were on her side the whole way. Or so she thought.
Her fathers reasoning's were that since she could dance she could probably be coordinated enough to ride a tricycle, Bryan argued that she would attempt to ride off to the distant lights of Broadway but Oscar assured him that they'd be around every-time she would use it. use it. They were both wrong. Oh, so very wrong.
As Rachel gleefully (tee hee!) saddled her trike and pushed off into the wild yonder, she promptly leaned backwards and fell on her small behind without moving an inch. Her fathers went to her side, rife with concern but Rachel just shrugged them off, determined to tame this wild beast of a contraption. She got up again, humming the Flight of the Valkyries and pushed off with all her might.
This ended with Rachel in a pile of rubbish bags, a tipped over bin and a very upset stray cat. Rachel of course, began to cry yet again and her fathers soothingly brought Rachel inside the house and they watched a long list of musicals as they would do for almost every one of Rachel's birthday.
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Two years would pass until Rachel Berry walked into the garage, brushed the dirt off her long forgotten nemesis. Head held high, she got on her trike, which was now far too small for her. She took an overly deep breath that seemed to last hours and slowly went down her driveway.
'So far, so good.' Rachel thought as she glided down the street near her. Her fathers, brushing their teeth on the second story were oblivious to this happening, until they heard Rachel's high pitched scream of "No brakes!"
It turned out that after two years of no maintenance nor care, the cunning trike had decided that's it's brakes no longer worked. And however hard Rachel screamed at it to stop, the rather sadistic thing would not stop. In Rachel's rather odd five year old thinking, she realized that this trike was not just a simple trike, but one sent only to taunt and eliminate her. She decided that she would not let this trike get the best of her by staying on it and maneuvering herself away from danger.
This did not work. At all.
You see the Berry's house is situated on the very top of a hill, with both sides a rather steep slope. This is why Bryan and Oscar had decided to only let Rachel ride the trike with them. However, they had forgotten about this rule and after hearing Rachel's scream they rushed downstairs. Rachel, perhaps inevitably, was heading down the hill while screaming something like "Streisand save me!"
This led to the humorous sight of a five year old girl on a tricycle going at-least 60 miles per hour down a steep slope looking terrified and two men in their musically themed boxers running after her. Rachel eventually rammed herself into a pile of bins outside some poor man's house. Rachel was covered in various food scraps and trash, which had broken her fall. (Foreshadowing at it's best.) At first she was just surprised that the man had thrown away a half eaten but then she realized that she badly needed a shower. In the famous words of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, she picked herself up, brushed herself off started all over again.
Well, okay, maybe she didn't bother to ride her trike again for another 12 years but that doesn't mean she had an irrational fear of her trike! She just left in her garage, resigned it to it's lonely fate of dust and cobwebs.
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"Do we really have to do this?" Quinn groaned at her girlfriend.
"You know that being sentimental is one my best attributes! Riding this trike will symbolize that from now on I can do anything!"
"Rachel, you can do anything already. God, we sound like cliched disney characters."
"I have been told I do look like Quasimodo many times by somebody. Hmm, I wonder who it was?"
"You suck at guilt tripping."
"You suck at not feeling guilty. "
"Touche."
"Indeed. Now Esmeralda are you going to ride this trike with me or not?"
"I still don't understand why we have to do this!"
Truthfully, Rachel just wanted to finally conquer her sworn enemy. She wished to eliminate any doubt from her mind that in the eventual conflict, she could come out the victor and that the Trike would come out the loser. She knew she was stronger with her girlfriend around and saw this as an opportunity to impress her.
"Because Quinn, don't you love me?"
"What? Of course I do-"
Rachel summoned her best Berry pout face and pushed out her chest.
"Pwetty pwease?" Rachel was annoyed by having to go to such extreme methods, because she loathed it when people mispronounced things. But this was all for a good cause, as Quinn's face immediately went through the three states of arousal. Not that she studied her Girlfriend or anything. It wasn't creepy!
Stage one, deer in headlights stare. Light flush on features. Body becoming stiff, back straightening. Small attempts to move away from source of arousal, such as shuffling away. This is quickly solved by moving in more into her now nonexistent personal space bubble.
This led to stage two. Full blown flush across all features. Biting lower lip nervously, eyes may flutter into a half closed state. Crossing arms to try to cover prominent nipples. Looking anywhere at the source of arousal. Which was me and of course this had to be remedied immediately.
"Quinnie? Are you okay, you seem a bit flushed!" Rachel went in for the kill and felt her forehead and let her thumb play softly with Quinn's bottom lip. She pressed her body tightly into Quinn's and she knew she had succeeded and stage three was inevitable.
Stage three was red face, tousled hair, legs crossed attempting to relieve pressure and Quinn's breathing in a heavy, labored pant.
"If you've got a fever that would be horrible! You poor thing! If you ride the trike with me I'll be squished into you, so if your ill I don't want to catch it!" Rachel was not known for being subtle. She could see the steam engine in Quinn's mind go on overdrive as she calculated the options.
"Um, it's okay. I-I'm fine. Thank you."
"You sure? I hate for my favorite Quinn to be sick!"
"No, really I'm fine."
Rachel grinned. Mission accomplished. She brought Quinn down to her old garage and dug around a bit until found her evil trike.
"It's tiny!" Quinn all but yelled.
"Well I first got it when I was three, so you can't really blame it. It just means you'll just have to hold me tighter."
And there it was again, the stage three symptoms. She pulled out the cunning trike and observed it.
"Gold stars, really Rachel?"
"Metaphors are-"
"Important. Yeah I know. But this isn't a metaphor!"
"Alright, then subtext."
"This isn't subtext it's too blandly obvious and overt to be subtext! It's just text!"
"Can we stop talking about literary devices and get on with it!"
"Whatever."
Rachel bounded off with Trike in hand, into the drive way. She motioned for Quinn to sit down on it. She did, well, barely. He legs were separated at a 90 degree angle and her arms were tucked in to her like she was a chicken. She looked absurd.
"Comfortable?" Rachel asked.
"What do you think?"
"Well shuffle over!" Rachel wedged herself between the handlebars and sat upon Quinn's lap. She wiggled a bit to get comfortable, causing a stage three reaction yet again.
"You ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
"That's better then never!"
And with another overly long breath, she closed her eyes and thought about the other times she tried this.
"I feel really stupid."
"Shut up Quinn! I was having a moment?"
"How can you have a 'moment' when you're situated on your girlfriends lap, on the edge of your driveway and just about to do down the steepest hill in Lima?"
Silence befell them. Then Rachel began to lean back into Quinn, tilt her head back and nibble on her neck.
"Shooshy wooshy!"
'Stage three, yet again. How do I do it!'
With Quinn distracted, she pushed off on the driveway and off they went. They sped off the driveway in a second, barely managing to steer onto the road. They made a sharp turn on the road eventually heading down the hill. It was quite a bit steeper on a small trike they found out.
"Um, Quinn, I'm kind of doubting this now."
"Yeah, this is a bit steep. Just let me press the brakes."
"They don't work."
"What?!"
"I said the brakes don't work."
"You could have told me this!"
"I didn't think it was importaaaaaannnntttt-"
Rachel's excuse was interrupted by the hill finally reaching it's precipice and of course, the trike going over it. With the increase of weight, they went faster then Rachel had twelve years ago. This also meant that the trike was screeching and looked as if it would break at any minute.
"If we make it out of this I'm going to kill you!"
"Yeah, well that's obviously not going to happen!"
"Why not?!"
"Because we're obviously not going to make it out of this!" Rachel said matter-o-factly.
After much screaming and wild steering they eventually plummeted into the poor old man's rubbish bins yet again. Rachel quickly checked if all her limbs were attached to her, then checked her girlfriend. They were lying on what was surprisingly comfortable rubbish bags and breathing heavily. Quinn just glared at her. As Rachel began to get up she couldn't help but notice something green and round in the rubbish.
"Oh so now he's chucking out full apples! Wasteful man!"
Quinn just shook her head and leaned more into the rubbish. Rachel just smiled and realized that she had conquered her Trike finally. She was mistaken. She inspected the damage to it and came to the conclusion that she could ride it once or twice again before it was actually defeated.
"Hey Quinn?"
"Yes Rachel."
"Pwetty pwease would you do that again with me?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Rachel just smiled and bounded up the hill again.
Author: AwkwardGayGuy
Rating: PG=13
Length: 2107
Spoilers: None whatsoever.
Summary:
Rachel was talented in many ways. She had a long list of attributes (all conveniently cataloged in a small, golden star coated notebook she has kept in her similarly gold star coated purse since she was seven.)
A/N: Second story here, wrote at three am while having a fever dream. I think it's alright, but the unicorns and talking toothbrushes on the edge of my dragon are telling me it's crap. You decide.
Rachel was talented in many ways. She had a long list of attributes (all conveniently cataloged in a small, golden star coated notebook she has kept in her similarly gold star coated purse since she was seven.) This long list includes singing, dancing, soccer, writing, public speaking, gold mining, lego building, blowing glass, pottery, photography, lion taming, U.F.O. spotting, tornado chasing, extreme ironing -the list goes on and on. There was only one mainstream hobby that many other normal people could do that she could not even conceive of doing. This activity was the bane of her existence, the Jets to her Sharks, the Agamemnon to her Achilles, the Jar Jar binks to her whole entire validity of the Star Wars franchise. This great evil, this instrument of torture was dreaded by Rachel.
It was her tricycle.
Yes, you may be wondering. Her tricycle? You've got to be pulling my leg out of it's poor sockets! Rachel Berry can do anything! Sadly, no this isn't the case. She can do everything but ride a tricycle.
She first came into contact with this horrendous device at her 3rd birthday. After a delightful waking up call by her dads, (which included breakfast in bed with Gypsy playing the the background, her favorite at the time) she was forced downstairs into the garage adjacent to their home. Rachel, in her bunny slippers and similarly patterned bunny pajamas and sleeping cap was quite cold in this garage. So when her dad brought out for her a small tricycle that they had singlehandedly spent hours placing golden star stickers on every surface of the trike she squealed with delight. She began to inspect the bike, making sure every surface was practically carpeted in stickers. She eventually found one spot underneath the handlebars that was not full to the brim with stickers and began to sob loudly. Her fathers attempted to do damage control by running upstairs to fetch the endless supply of stickers and with due haste covered that spot. Rachel of course, stopped wailing like a madwoman and continued her inspection. When she gave her fathers each a hug and a thank you she set out on her brave mission of riding her trike for the first time. Her dads were on her side the whole way. Or so she thought.
Her fathers reasoning's were that since she could dance she could probably be coordinated enough to ride a tricycle, Bryan argued that she would attempt to ride off to the distant lights of Broadway but Oscar assured him that they'd be around every-time she would use it. use it. They were both wrong. Oh, so very wrong.
As Rachel gleefully (tee hee!) saddled her trike and pushed off into the wild yonder, she promptly leaned backwards and fell on her small behind without moving an inch. Her fathers went to her side, rife with concern but Rachel just shrugged them off, determined to tame this wild beast of a contraption. She got up again, humming the Flight of the Valkyries and pushed off with all her might.
This ended with Rachel in a pile of rubbish bags, a tipped over bin and a very upset stray cat. Rachel of course, began to cry yet again and her fathers soothingly brought Rachel inside the house and they watched a long list of musicals as they would do for almost every one of Rachel's birthday.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Two years would pass until Rachel Berry walked into the garage, brushed the dirt off her long forgotten nemesis. Head held high, she got on her trike, which was now far too small for her. She took an overly deep breath that seemed to last hours and slowly went down her driveway.
'So far, so good.' Rachel thought as she glided down the street near her. Her fathers, brushing their teeth on the second story were oblivious to this happening, until they heard Rachel's high pitched scream of "No brakes!"
It turned out that after two years of no maintenance nor care, the cunning trike had decided that's it's brakes no longer worked. And however hard Rachel screamed at it to stop, the rather sadistic thing would not stop. In Rachel's rather odd five year old thinking, she realized that this trike was not just a simple trike, but one sent only to taunt and eliminate her. She decided that she would not let this trike get the best of her by staying on it and maneuvering herself away from danger.
This did not work. At all.
You see the Berry's house is situated on the very top of a hill, with both sides a rather steep slope. This is why Bryan and Oscar had decided to only let Rachel ride the trike with them. However, they had forgotten about this rule and after hearing Rachel's scream they rushed downstairs. Rachel, perhaps inevitably, was heading down the hill while screaming something like "Streisand save me!"
This led to the humorous sight of a five year old girl on a tricycle going at-least 60 miles per hour down a steep slope looking terrified and two men in their musically themed boxers running after her. Rachel eventually rammed herself into a pile of bins outside some poor man's house. Rachel was covered in various food scraps and trash, which had broken her fall. (Foreshadowing at it's best.) At first she was just surprised that the man had thrown away a half eaten but then she realized that she badly needed a shower. In the famous words of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, she picked herself up, brushed herself off started all over again.
Well, okay, maybe she didn't bother to ride her trike again for another 12 years but that doesn't mean she had an irrational fear of her trike! She just left in her garage, resigned it to it's lonely fate of dust and cobwebs.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Do we really have to do this?" Quinn groaned at her girlfriend.
"You know that being sentimental is one my best attributes! Riding this trike will symbolize that from now on I can do anything!"
"Rachel, you can do anything already. God, we sound like cliched disney characters."
"I have been told I do look like Quasimodo many times by somebody. Hmm, I wonder who it was?"
"You suck at guilt tripping."
"You suck at not feeling guilty. "
"Touche."
"Indeed. Now Esmeralda are you going to ride this trike with me or not?"
"I still don't understand why we have to do this!"
Truthfully, Rachel just wanted to finally conquer her sworn enemy. She wished to eliminate any doubt from her mind that in the eventual conflict, she could come out the victor and that the Trike would come out the loser. She knew she was stronger with her girlfriend around and saw this as an opportunity to impress her.
"Because Quinn, don't you love me?"
"What? Of course I do-"
Rachel summoned her best Berry pout face and pushed out her chest.
"Pwetty pwease?" Rachel was annoyed by having to go to such extreme methods, because she loathed it when people mispronounced things. But this was all for a good cause, as Quinn's face immediately went through the three states of arousal. Not that she studied her Girlfriend or anything. It wasn't creepy!
Stage one, deer in headlights stare. Light flush on features. Body becoming stiff, back straightening. Small attempts to move away from source of arousal, such as shuffling away. This is quickly solved by moving in more into her now nonexistent personal space bubble.
This led to stage two. Full blown flush across all features. Biting lower lip nervously, eyes may flutter into a half closed state. Crossing arms to try to cover prominent nipples. Looking anywhere at the source of arousal. Which was me and of course this had to be remedied immediately.
"Quinnie? Are you okay, you seem a bit flushed!" Rachel went in for the kill and felt her forehead and let her thumb play softly with Quinn's bottom lip. She pressed her body tightly into Quinn's and she knew she had succeeded and stage three was inevitable.
Stage three was red face, tousled hair, legs crossed attempting to relieve pressure and Quinn's breathing in a heavy, labored pant.
"If you've got a fever that would be horrible! You poor thing! If you ride the trike with me I'll be squished into you, so if your ill I don't want to catch it!" Rachel was not known for being subtle. She could see the steam engine in Quinn's mind go on overdrive as she calculated the options.
"Um, it's okay. I-I'm fine. Thank you."
"You sure? I hate for my favorite Quinn to be sick!"
"No, really I'm fine."
Rachel grinned. Mission accomplished. She brought Quinn down to her old garage and dug around a bit until found her evil trike.
"It's tiny!" Quinn all but yelled.
"Well I first got it when I was three, so you can't really blame it. It just means you'll just have to hold me tighter."
And there it was again, the stage three symptoms. She pulled out the cunning trike and observed it.
"Gold stars, really Rachel?"
"Metaphors are-"
"Important. Yeah I know. But this isn't a metaphor!"
"Alright, then subtext."
"This isn't subtext it's too blandly obvious and overt to be subtext! It's just text!"
"Can we stop talking about literary devices and get on with it!"
"Whatever."
Rachel bounded off with Trike in hand, into the drive way. She motioned for Quinn to sit down on it. She did, well, barely. He legs were separated at a 90 degree angle and her arms were tucked in to her like she was a chicken. She looked absurd.
"Comfortable?" Rachel asked.
"What do you think?"
"Well shuffle over!" Rachel wedged herself between the handlebars and sat upon Quinn's lap. She wiggled a bit to get comfortable, causing a stage three reaction yet again.
"You ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
"That's better then never!"
And with another overly long breath, she closed her eyes and thought about the other times she tried this.
"I feel really stupid."
"Shut up Quinn! I was having a moment?"
"How can you have a 'moment' when you're situated on your girlfriends lap, on the edge of your driveway and just about to do down the steepest hill in Lima?"
Silence befell them. Then Rachel began to lean back into Quinn, tilt her head back and nibble on her neck.
"Shooshy wooshy!"
'Stage three, yet again. How do I do it!'
With Quinn distracted, she pushed off on the driveway and off they went. They sped off the driveway in a second, barely managing to steer onto the road. They made a sharp turn on the road eventually heading down the hill. It was quite a bit steeper on a small trike they found out.
"Um, Quinn, I'm kind of doubting this now."
"Yeah, this is a bit steep. Just let me press the brakes."
"They don't work."
"What?!"
"I said the brakes don't work."
"You could have told me this!"
"I didn't think it was importaaaaaannnntttt-"
Rachel's excuse was interrupted by the hill finally reaching it's precipice and of course, the trike going over it. With the increase of weight, they went faster then Rachel had twelve years ago. This also meant that the trike was screeching and looked as if it would break at any minute.
"If we make it out of this I'm going to kill you!"
"Yeah, well that's obviously not going to happen!"
"Why not?!"
"Because we're obviously not going to make it out of this!" Rachel said matter-o-factly.
After much screaming and wild steering they eventually plummeted into the poor old man's rubbish bins yet again. Rachel quickly checked if all her limbs were attached to her, then checked her girlfriend. They were lying on what was surprisingly comfortable rubbish bags and breathing heavily. Quinn just glared at her. As Rachel began to get up she couldn't help but notice something green and round in the rubbish.
"Oh so now he's chucking out full apples! Wasteful man!"
Quinn just shook her head and leaned more into the rubbish. Rachel just smiled and realized that she had conquered her Trike finally. She was mistaken. She inspected the damage to it and came to the conclusion that she could ride it once or twice again before it was actually defeated.
"Hey Quinn?"
"Yes Rachel."
"Pwetty pwease would you do that again with me?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Rachel just smiled and bounded up the hill again.