Some Birthday Crack . . .
Aug. 28th, 2009 11:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
peg22. . . for the birthday boy. Wrote it for LS. My partner-in-crack and trusted fellow. And because I can't let the day go by without a little Fry . . .
So it would seem our fair haired birthday boy is out of sorts due to a certain British bloke's sudden shrinkage - in the good way. Well, here, see for yourselves:
From: Solberg828@hotmail.com
Re:
Hey, Jenny Craig – saw your picture in the Times and thought you had a younger, sexier brother. You look craggy, but . . . good. And I’ll deny I ever said that, so stop with the eyebrows. What I need to know is - how? I may need to drop a few myself in a couple of months and if you can do it, I can certainly do it – I know for a fact you haven’t said no to an order of chips since 1983. And my Guinness stock has not dropped, so I know you’re still boozing. So what is it? The Zone sucks, so I won’t even try that. And Paulie told me about some damn grapefruit cleanse but I hate grapefruit. So spill it, Fry. You owe me. And don’t make me remind you why. And don’t go twittering on all about this on your damn Facespace page. I know where the bodies are buried.
DS
From: FryDaddy@yahoo.com
Re: Your waistline and below . . .
My dear darling delusional David Kenneth Soul. How you set my heart to singing with your praise, heaped upon my shrinking countenance as if I were the very brisket you’ve been tucking away every Sunday until your gabardines are bursting. Mind the gap, dear fellow. And your threats, as thinly veiled as your attempt to mention your erstwhile and elsewhere occupied partner in crime, fall upon deaf ears. I will never divulge my secret to slimming success. I cannot. What happens to me when you show up all sinew and sass? You’ll probably regrow that moustache and we’ll all be happily transported back to 1979, when you were all balls and bravado and what are you doing home, by the way? Isn’t it senior day at the shops? I’d hate to see you miss out on the savings, you with your abysmal residual income and your finely honed taste for the Pabst Blue Ribbon. Bonne Fete, mi amour. And the bodies have been moved.
Lovingly,
Stephen
From: Solberg828@hotmail.com
Damn if you don’t know how to pansy up a page. So you’re telling me that you’re not telling me how you lost that pasty white gut, eh? And I’ll have you know, there is not a whiff of residual income around here for decades, if you don’t count Paulie’s residuals . . . And speaking of my goddamn birthday – did you get the invite? I’m having a few friends over and my better nature (yes, his name is Paul) told me to include you. I guess McKellan and Spacey weren’t enough for him. And I already phoned Hugh and got all the details to your diet. And invited him. So don’t miss it. I may need you to keep your boyfriend off my boyfriend. On second thought, maybe not. Looks like you lost a lot of muscle. Take care and ta ta and all that other bullshit.
DS
From: FryDaddy@yahoo.com
My dear Lord in heaven, where do I start? First and foremost, he is not my boyfriend. You are. Secondly, I know for a fact Spacey is in America doing some dreadful telepic and McKellan swore off all things “you” ever since you gave him a pony ride into the Thames. On another one of your unfortunate birthdays. I am, however, intrigued that the better of your rapidly expanding halves will be joining you for your event. I could use a little dalliance with that finely sculpted derrière and he has yet to see me in such fine figure. Who knows, he may finally throw you over – could this be the beginning of the end for our long betrothed crime fighters? Will Starsky come to his senses and tip his hat toward a rather tall and fabulously fit Brit? Or will he lose his nerve and continue to feed his erstwhile lion, whose roar is fast becoming a most modest mew? Stay tuned, as they say in the biz . . .
XOXO
Stephen
From: Solberg828@hotmail.com
You’re really pissing me off now. I’d take back the invite, but you’d show up anyway. Hell bent on proving some point. Probably show off in front of Hugh – you say he’s not your boyfriend, but you forget I was in Brighton, too. I saw it all. Quite a show. And keep your damn dalliance off my derriere. He’s mine and some skinny assed twit is not going to come between thirty years of something you will never understand. Got it? And bring me a good present. And no more bellboys okay? Or bartenders. And you’re going to give me that diet. Why? Two words. Jude Law.
DS
From: FryDaddy@yahoo.com
You loathsome, vicious, repugnant man. I extend the gracious hand of fellowship and camaraderie and you bite me to the bone. Reluctantly, I am forced to comply with your demands and you will find an attachment herewith. That is, of course, if you know what an attachment is and where to find it. Although I understand you’ve been using other sorts of attachments for years. And I too have very strong memories of Brighton. And your little Starsky. And Dr. House. My, my, maybe the bodies are not buried so deep as to warrant an exhumation and reexamination of who knows what and who did what and to whom and with whom and for whom?? Hmmm? I shall be in attendance at the dirge. Your present will be suitable for a man in your advanced state of agedness. And as always, you know I adore you.
Stephen
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-08-28 06:13 pm (UTC)Ian?! You're going to drag poor Ian into this? Woman, have you no shame?
*shakes head sadly*
Only you can make me not only read RPS, but crave it like potato chips.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-28 08:00 pm (UTC)and sometimes potato chips are GOOD FOR YOU!
thanks for reading "the transcripts" :)