neutral_omens | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Date: December 31, 2000, 9:00 PM
Status: Public
Setting: Bar
Summary: Free Alcohol!

Wensley walked from his kitchen to the entrance to the bar, sign under his arm. No one had planned any sort of Manor event for the evening, so he took it upon himself to give people who hadn't any plans something to do.

Pulling the sign out from under his arm, he propped the doors open and leaned the sign against one. "Open Bar, 9:00 PM- 1:00 AM," it proclaimed in large letters, then underneath, much smaller, "Entertainment Provided". He didn't actually have anyone lined up, but he was sure something entertaining would end up happening.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I'm not going to get out of this, am I," Brian said flatly. "Crap in a hat."

He sighed and picked up the guitar, looked down at it, and then looked up again, a wicked gleam in his eye. "You have to sing too." He grinned madly.

Well, this would be amusing. Pepper singing? Wensley lounged at the edge of the platform, feeling content to watch his friends bicker like an old married couple. But wait, was he forgetting something?

"Oy, Pepper! Did I forget to give you two your drinks?"

"Do not 'ave to sing!" she retorted. "I'm not the entertainment, I'm just an in'cent bystander!

She looked at her empty hands and then back forlornly in Wensley's direction. "I believe it is 'mpossible to say that I 'ave a drink in my hand, so that would mean that you forgot us, Wens." She frowned for all she was worth, trying to make him feel guilty.

"I think you should both have to sing, on account of actin' like children," he scolded half-heartedly, barely keeping a huge grin off his face. "If I'm Baby, and he's Scary, what does that make you? Ginger?" Leaving her with that idea, he walked back to the bar.

"Cert'nly not." Brian sniffed. "I'm not Scary. I'm Sporty or Bitchy or somebody. You, Pep, are Scary." He grinned. "Sing with me, Pep! Sing!"

She glared daggers at Wensley, but when Brian made his suggestion, she had to laugh. "No, I'm Bitchy, you idiot. And you're still Scary. And you still dun't know any lyrics, so we can't." She was not singing. No way in heaven or hell.

"Aw, Pep, you're not bitchy!" Much. He looked at her sideways. Should he divulge his shameful secret? On the one hand, it might get Pepper to sing. On the other hand, it was . . . very, very shameful.

"If I, theoretically, knew the words to one of their songs," he said slowly, "would you sing then?"

She gawked. For about thirty straight seconds.

"You tryin' to tell me that you know the words to one of those bloody songs?"

Since when did Christmas come so ear- er, right after Christmas?

Brian squirmed. "I couldn't help hearin' it!" he protested. "It was on the radio for a year or somethin'! An' my mum's car doesn't have a tape deck, and . . ." Squirm. Mutter. "It got stuck in my head, all right? And you are gonna sing it with me! Ha!"

Could she really say no to that? Really? In principle, of course she could, but... to hear Brian sing the Spice Girls? After all, it was much more embarrassing for him to sing it....

"Which one, then? Go on, they 'ad lotsa songs, and you 'aven't told me which one you memorized."

"It was the one where they went 'tell me what you want' about seventy times. And then went 'zigazig'."

Brian was already regretting telling Pepper. She had a look in her eyes that he knew far too well. It said, "I will never ever forget this or let you forget it. Moohahahaha! Hee."

"Oh, you'll want to forget it if it gets bandied around 'ere by me," she warned him. "Go on, start it up, Scary." She stuck her tongue out. Oh, she dared him....

"Not without you, Pep," Brian said cheerfully. "There's no way I could ever compare t'your 'zigazig'. Help me out here, and I'll play it." He scratched his nose. "Or are you scared?"

Damn him. He'd challenged her. She couldn't back out now....

Damn him.

Well, the first part was just chanting anyways....

She grit her teeth, closed her eyes, and out it came. "Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want-"

His turn. The bastard. And he'd better come in with it, or he would get skinned alive.

He bit his tongue desperately, trying not to burst out laughing, and started approximating the chords. Oh, for a video camera. . . .

"So tell me what you want, what you really really want," he said cheerfully, giving Pepper a winning smile.

Oh, this was just unreal. She was having a nightmare. Wasn't too bad for a nightmare, then. Okay -

"I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want-" She walked over and flicked him in the ear for the smile. He was not funny. And he sounded even more ridiculous, so he had no right to grin.

"So tell me what you want, what you really really want--ow!" He rubbed his ear. What, he wasn't allowed to enjoy himself while utterly humiliating himself? He elbowed her in the side.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only