Summer Crack: Impending Doom

[peg22]

 Okay, so the news of RSL aka Wilson's impending marriage, coupled of course with news of DS as reality show star, has surely thrown a wrench in all the summer plans. This story may take a while to unravel - but rest assured it WILL unravel . . .

It's PMG/DS and HL/RSL and a little Stephen Fry and Uma Thurman and a cast of hundreds by the time it's done.

It's like at the swimming pool, when you're all wet standing at the concession stand and you buy a jumbo ChicOStick and the sugary goodness sticks to your chlorine wet hands and you shiver in your towel and you're the most happy you've ever been in your entire life. That's what summer crack does to you . . .

This is all written for LS, cracken soup for the Lyrical Soul . . . and because that's how we roll.

I. It Begins With Stephen

 

Hello?

 

Are you sober?

 

Fuck off.

 

Yes, yes, we’ll get to that. First things first – are you sober?

 

Are you an asshole?

 

You sound sober.

 

You sound like an asshole.

 

Yes, well, usually your appalling manner is somewhat of a turn on, but we’ve got business to take care of.

 

Our business is finished, Stephen.

 

O, contraire my studly lion, we now have new business.

 

What?

 

Have you read the London Times this morning?

 

I’m not up yet.

 

David, please concentrate. I’m loathe to mention this . . .

 

Then don’t. I’m hanging up.

 

The child is engaged.

 

What child?

 

Our child.

 

We don’t have a child.

 

And the world is a poorer place for it – not ours as in yours and mine. Ours as in the collective ours.

 

I have no idea what you’re talking about.

 

Robert Sean Penn Leslie Ann Warren Leonard Goldberg.

 

The kid? You’re talking about the kid?

 

Yes, the suspiciously betrothed one is ending his betrothal.

 

And you called me for what?  To celebrate?

 

Hardly. Sit up.

 

What?

 

Sit up – your reclined position is apparently blocking the blood flow to your brain.

 

Stephen, cut the crap. Why in the hell are you calling me at  . . . ten in the fucking morning?

 

Let me put it this way, my dear befuddled Hutchy. The kid, as you call him, has announced to the world that he is finally marrying that alleged woman in August. My dearest Junket is presently in New York, collecting an obscene amount of money filming some Japanese watch commercial. Your own luscious piece of television history is also in New York, doing whatever he does.

 

He’s directing Law and Order.

 

Yes, well, so when my dearest sets out to find a moor to walk, just whose company will he most likely decide to seek out? And whose company will he be wallowing in when he is most vulnerable, and whose company has been proven to erase every bit of propriety and common sense in my dearest?

 

What the hell are you . . .

 

Hugh is going to drown his sorrows over the loss of his Wilson with a big tall glass of your own Paulie Michael Angelo Glaser. That’s what the hell I am. .  .

 

Bullshit.

 

Eloquent, but less than helpful. I suggest you and I meet mid flight on the 8:15 British Airways  into JFK.

 

You want me to fly to New York with you? For what?

 

To stop the madness. To separate the boys. To talk some sense into the child. To have a threesome at the Plaza. You pick.

 

Wait, so you’re telling me that the kid finally going legit is going to send Hugh over the edge? So? Go get him. None of my business.

 

Your business begins when you get a call from Paul, knee deep in guilt over having sucked all of my Hugh’s sadness out through his veritable python of a  . . . python.

 

That’s over. Paulie promised.

 

Yes, well. Let’s just head over and make sure everyone keeps their promises. Suspect as they might be. Are you sure the man said, “I promise not to shag Hugh, even when he asks in the most romantic, devastated way, with eyes that would melt the Artic." Huh? Did he say that?

 

(silence)

 

David?

 

Mr. Solberg?

 

Yeah, I’m here. Pick me up at six. And you’re paying. For everything.

 

Good. And if we don’t arrive in time, I believe we’ll all end up paying.

tbc . . . Summer Crack: II - It Continues with Uma

Comments

[mashfanficchick.livejournal.com]

Because I may have to stop reading this any second (I'm waiting for class to begin)...

He’s directing Law and Order.

Is he really? Because that might actually make me want to watch it again.

And, um...*whispers* British Airways doesn't fly into LaGuardia. In fact, I don't think anyone flies from London to LaGuardia; it's mostly a domestic airport. JFK is the major local international airport (though British Airways does also fly into Newark).

[peg22.livejournal.com]

thanks for the whisper . . .

and I just transcribe, I do not speak to accuracy. It's all true, right?

[lauramcewan.livejournal.com]

I love you. More and more, every day.

[peg22.livejournal.com]

and I seriously love your icon. laws.

[thayln.livejournal.com]

Oooooo...somebody's gonna be in trouuuuuble.

*snicker, snort*

*waits for more*

[peg22.livejournal.com]

oh yes, never good to poke a stick at the sleeping lion . . .

[mashfanficchick.livejournal.com]

Oh my God. I now have this image (semi-courtesy of an old L&O: SVU ep, actually) of HL and PMG walking the "moors" of NY...by which I mean the long, lonely trails that parallel the Hudson River. :-)

Also? Your business begins when you get a call from Paul, knee deep in guilt over having sucked all of my Hugh’s sadness out through his veritable python of a . . . python.

*snickers* So awesomely accurate, on all available counts!

Not to mention, as always, the fantastic one-liners and interplay between them until Stephen really gets down to business. (And also, just in general, Stephen's whole manner of speaking.)

*wonders how much trouble any or all of The Boys can get into in her own dear NYC...and looks insanely forward towards hearing all about it!*

[peg22.livejournal.com]

that's like the exact image - and it's hard not to just write Stephen all the time - he's so fun (and naughty)

oh I think the boys will have quite the NYC adventure - I seem to have a lot of time on my hands this summer . . .

[benzine-torch.livejournal.com]

PMG/HL?!

[lyricalsoul.livejournal.com]

The lust that would not die. You have to ask Kaye to share that particular series of cracky tales to understand. Or to run away in horror. Only to return for more.

[peg22.livejournal.com]

oh yes, it's a tale that started in a seedy bar near LAX whilst both boys were missing their other boys . . . and has yet to die - regardless of Davey's death threats . . . but we know where Paulie's true heart lies - his nethers are another story . . .

[benzine-torch.livejournal.com]

Boo, anything other than my OTP makes me pout. ;)

[callistosh65.livejournal.com]

Sit up – your reclined position is apparently blocking the blood flow to your brain.
Stephen, cut the crap. Why in the hell are you calling me at . . . ten in the fucking morning? DS and SF bantering back and forth may be one of the bestest pleasures EVAH.. Genius, bachgen, as ever.

[peg22.livejournal.com]

thank you my girly girl - I agree. Hard not to just have them calling each other all the time . . .

[ancastar.livejournal.com]

I didn't see this until just now (having instead jumped in feet first with part two). This:

The child is engaged.



What child?



Our child.



We don’t have a child.



And the world is a poorer place for it...

Makes me happier than crack really should. :-)