Authors' Note: As you may have already figured out, we are insane. And
insane people get ideas very often, ideas that are either insanely
brilliantly or brilliantly insane (we can't decide). And, as it happens,
many of these ideas have something to do with L&O. Over the course of our
time as the Twins of Hazzard, many of these Ideas have come to us, but none
of them have been enough to write an entire fic out of. But one day, after
many frappucinos and some Mexican hot chocolate and not very much sleep, we
decided that we would incorporate all of these ideas into one ginormous
fic, more insane than "Life After Love Was Not Going So Well", more abusive
to characters than "The Real McCoy". It has every character in it except
Robinette, Nora (AHHHHH!!! THE EVIL!), Serena (I'm sorry, but do we really
need to explain why we didn't put her in? Does ANYBODY like her? The
answer is no), Ceretta and Greavey (sorry if the spelling is incorrect, but
they're not very interesting, although Paul Sorvino does, apparently, sing
opera...oh, the humanity), Craigen (because, well...he's Craigen. It's not
his fault or anything, but that doesn't give him an excuse), Ms. Ross or
Abby (they left in a huff after McCoy didn't sleep with them like they had
been promised when they agreed to work for him), or New Scary Southern DA
(because he's scary and southern). Basically, all the interesting
characters are in it, and it takes place after 'The Real McCoy", which took
place after "Life After Love Was Not Going So Well", but if you haven't
read them then don't worry. That said, enjoy the fic!
*~*~*
Profaci Saves The Day
*~*~*
Hello, My Name Is McCoy, And I'm A Mintaholic
It all began exactly one week before Christmas Eve Eve. Spring having sprung and Fall having fell, Winter had done whatever Winter does, and all of New York was enjoying a white Christmas and spending their time buying Christmas tree after Christmas tree, roasting chestnuts on an open fire, sitting on the couch and toasting their Eddie Bauer sock-clad toes in from of the fireplace, and taking rides through Central Park in carriages pulled by grossly underpaid horses. It was snowing so much that no one really noticed the smog, and all New Yorkers had escaped their New York states of mind for a while and were feeling peace toward men, Claire and McCoy included. In fact, everyone at both the Twenty-Seventh Precinct and One Hogan Place were having themselves a very merry Christmas-Van Buren had loosened up a little and had spread tinsel through the Precinct and stopped yelling at the detectives because of her frustrations concerning her son's computer, Lennie had finally stopped wearing short-sleeved shirts and causing people to have to gouge their eyes out with sharp implements whenever he got within fifty feet of them, and Schiff, it could be said, had even begun to grumble somewhat festively. All in all, everyone was not only happy but quite merry indeed. And, as usual, no one knocked on wood.
The problems really all began when McCoy figured out he could put mentos (the fresh maker) into the freezer and they would be even more refreshingly fresh than ever. However once taken out of the freezer the freshness was just gone, and once having enjoyed the amazing tingly sensation they produced, there was no way to go back to the regular mintiness. So McCoy began to take little breaks from work, at lunch he would go home and eat mentos out of the freezer, he stopped working late in order to be with his mentos. Slowly this began to affect his job performance. Schiff threatened him by taking him to the public defense office and showing him a man remarkably like himeself who had once been an EADA and was now defending people who thought they were eggplants. In a state of horror McCoy promised to stop going to the mentos, but at this point it was too late. He was hooked.
One day, as McCoy lay on the floor of his small yet spiffy kitchen, clutching an empty roll of mentos in his clenched fist and knowing that if he didn't get to court in approximately seven seconds he would lose the case, he realized that something must be done. And then, a plan came to him, so simple and yet effective that he was amazed that he hadn't thought of it before: he would buy a mini-freezer and fill it with Mentos, and take it wherever he went. Motivated by the knowledge that he could remain the rootinest tootinest EADA in town and still get his mento fix, he scurried out to the nearest Sharper Image as fast as his legs could carry him and bought a little mini-freezer that not only kept mentos cold but also, keeping with the Sharper Image philosophy, made rice and broadcast Thai radio stations.
The plan seemed perfect. The next day he came to work, mini-freezer stocked to bursting with mentos, and smiled serenely as both Schiff and Claire glared at him in a way that made them look remarkably like those big head on Easter Island. After a few hours of work, McCoy was still happy as can be, having downed several mentos and played some footsie with Claire, the only problem being that upon seeing the footsie Schiff ran out of the room screaming, but McCoy just shrugged it off-Schiff could be that way sometimes. Then, right after lunch, McCoy's latest case (a man who had planted a bomb on a bus that would go off if the bus went under fifty miles per hour-while prosecuting the case McCoy was plagued by a never-ending feeling of deja vu) came into the office with his lawyer, ready to make a deal.
The lawyer suggested that the man get 200 hours of community service for obstructing public transportation. And McCoy, who was at this point so addled by the intense mintiness, could think of nothing. So instead of suggesting that the defense attorney go to hell and sit on a hot coal until it snowed, he simply held up his roll of mentos and, with a slightly daft smile, said "mentos: the fresh maker" and then had a mint, hoping that it would clear his mind. Unfortunately, the defense attorney took this to be a yes and escorted her client out of the office with a big smile on her face, and by the time McCoy realized what had happened, she was gone.
Schiff fired him. When Claire came by McCoys apartment to comport him she fond him organizing the mentos by flavor and size. He had bought special ice trays to keep them in. Claire told him he really had to get help and he stared blankly at her and said, " I heard a new flavor is coming out, cherry pie."
Claire dumped him. Lennie got him a job as a secretary at the Two-Seven, where there was full access to the mini fringe where they kept urine samples. McCoy just had to answer phones, file papers order Chinese food and eat mentos all the live long day. Sometimes he even acted out a little play (mainly "The Little Prince") using the mentos as main characters. Slowly the mentos became more than food, they became his friends and family, and they tasted soooo good!
The diligent police officers knew better than to bother the insane secretary who played with mentos. It was better then the time he was cloned and had moved under Lennie's desk and threw flowers everywhere. McCoy was the little island of insanity in an otherwise sane precinct, and let it never be said that public servants don't appreciate diversity (after all, Lennie had one black partner!).
Besides, the detectives had bigger fish to fry. Logan and Handsome Ben, who apparently had nothing better to do (Deborah had finally actually left Handsome Ben, and Logan, to his dismay, had dated every woman in Manhattan and therefore had no one to sleep with) had decided to visit Lennie, and were helping him with his cases. No one really noticed McCoy, except for Green, who one day soon after McCoy began working at the Precinct noticed that McCoy was constantly singing a little song and using the mentos as backup singers. Green Wandered over to McCoy's desk and asked curiously "Um, McCoy? What song are you singing?"
"'Hang on Sloopy'!" McCoy said cheerily between verses, right before he popped in another one of his backup singers. "It's by the McCoys" McCoy explained, "so it's by ME!"
"Oh." Green said. "Well, you know, given that it was recorded in the sixties by a pop group, it was probably written by your producer or something."
"Oh," McCoy said, all happiness disappearing from his face as he tried to think of a reply. Instead, he ate another mento and resumed his singing with much vim and vigor. Life was good.
Green left McCoy with the song now lodged in his head just as Lennie sidled over to offer McCoy some words of encouragement-as a former alcoholic he felt that he should give McCoy some support and let him know that there was still hope. He was nearly done with his speech when he looked over and noticed something, the most terrible thing that could ever happen to him and to the Two-Seven.
Now, the Twenty-Seventh Precinct is a delicate piece of machinery, made up of many parts, and if just one of those parts breaks than the entire machine will collapse and fall into disrepair until that part is fixed and work can resume. And the central piece, the most important bit of machinery, the keystone of the Precinct, is the coffee maker. And so, when it gurgled to a halt that cold day in December, all hell broke loose.
*~*~*
TBC.
Additional Note: we request at least three reviews before we post the next chapter. So, if you are reading this, please give us a review even if it isn't signed, our egos are very underfed.
*~*~*
Profaci Saves The Day
*~*~*
Hello, My Name Is McCoy, And I'm A Mintaholic
It all began exactly one week before Christmas Eve Eve. Spring having sprung and Fall having fell, Winter had done whatever Winter does, and all of New York was enjoying a white Christmas and spending their time buying Christmas tree after Christmas tree, roasting chestnuts on an open fire, sitting on the couch and toasting their Eddie Bauer sock-clad toes in from of the fireplace, and taking rides through Central Park in carriages pulled by grossly underpaid horses. It was snowing so much that no one really noticed the smog, and all New Yorkers had escaped their New York states of mind for a while and were feeling peace toward men, Claire and McCoy included. In fact, everyone at both the Twenty-Seventh Precinct and One Hogan Place were having themselves a very merry Christmas-Van Buren had loosened up a little and had spread tinsel through the Precinct and stopped yelling at the detectives because of her frustrations concerning her son's computer, Lennie had finally stopped wearing short-sleeved shirts and causing people to have to gouge their eyes out with sharp implements whenever he got within fifty feet of them, and Schiff, it could be said, had even begun to grumble somewhat festively. All in all, everyone was not only happy but quite merry indeed. And, as usual, no one knocked on wood.
The problems really all began when McCoy figured out he could put mentos (the fresh maker) into the freezer and they would be even more refreshingly fresh than ever. However once taken out of the freezer the freshness was just gone, and once having enjoyed the amazing tingly sensation they produced, there was no way to go back to the regular mintiness. So McCoy began to take little breaks from work, at lunch he would go home and eat mentos out of the freezer, he stopped working late in order to be with his mentos. Slowly this began to affect his job performance. Schiff threatened him by taking him to the public defense office and showing him a man remarkably like himeself who had once been an EADA and was now defending people who thought they were eggplants. In a state of horror McCoy promised to stop going to the mentos, but at this point it was too late. He was hooked.
One day, as McCoy lay on the floor of his small yet spiffy kitchen, clutching an empty roll of mentos in his clenched fist and knowing that if he didn't get to court in approximately seven seconds he would lose the case, he realized that something must be done. And then, a plan came to him, so simple and yet effective that he was amazed that he hadn't thought of it before: he would buy a mini-freezer and fill it with Mentos, and take it wherever he went. Motivated by the knowledge that he could remain the rootinest tootinest EADA in town and still get his mento fix, he scurried out to the nearest Sharper Image as fast as his legs could carry him and bought a little mini-freezer that not only kept mentos cold but also, keeping with the Sharper Image philosophy, made rice and broadcast Thai radio stations.
The plan seemed perfect. The next day he came to work, mini-freezer stocked to bursting with mentos, and smiled serenely as both Schiff and Claire glared at him in a way that made them look remarkably like those big head on Easter Island. After a few hours of work, McCoy was still happy as can be, having downed several mentos and played some footsie with Claire, the only problem being that upon seeing the footsie Schiff ran out of the room screaming, but McCoy just shrugged it off-Schiff could be that way sometimes. Then, right after lunch, McCoy's latest case (a man who had planted a bomb on a bus that would go off if the bus went under fifty miles per hour-while prosecuting the case McCoy was plagued by a never-ending feeling of deja vu) came into the office with his lawyer, ready to make a deal.
The lawyer suggested that the man get 200 hours of community service for obstructing public transportation. And McCoy, who was at this point so addled by the intense mintiness, could think of nothing. So instead of suggesting that the defense attorney go to hell and sit on a hot coal until it snowed, he simply held up his roll of mentos and, with a slightly daft smile, said "mentos: the fresh maker" and then had a mint, hoping that it would clear his mind. Unfortunately, the defense attorney took this to be a yes and escorted her client out of the office with a big smile on her face, and by the time McCoy realized what had happened, she was gone.
Schiff fired him. When Claire came by McCoys apartment to comport him she fond him organizing the mentos by flavor and size. He had bought special ice trays to keep them in. Claire told him he really had to get help and he stared blankly at her and said, " I heard a new flavor is coming out, cherry pie."
Claire dumped him. Lennie got him a job as a secretary at the Two-Seven, where there was full access to the mini fringe where they kept urine samples. McCoy just had to answer phones, file papers order Chinese food and eat mentos all the live long day. Sometimes he even acted out a little play (mainly "The Little Prince") using the mentos as main characters. Slowly the mentos became more than food, they became his friends and family, and they tasted soooo good!
The diligent police officers knew better than to bother the insane secretary who played with mentos. It was better then the time he was cloned and had moved under Lennie's desk and threw flowers everywhere. McCoy was the little island of insanity in an otherwise sane precinct, and let it never be said that public servants don't appreciate diversity (after all, Lennie had one black partner!).
Besides, the detectives had bigger fish to fry. Logan and Handsome Ben, who apparently had nothing better to do (Deborah had finally actually left Handsome Ben, and Logan, to his dismay, had dated every woman in Manhattan and therefore had no one to sleep with) had decided to visit Lennie, and were helping him with his cases. No one really noticed McCoy, except for Green, who one day soon after McCoy began working at the Precinct noticed that McCoy was constantly singing a little song and using the mentos as backup singers. Green Wandered over to McCoy's desk and asked curiously "Um, McCoy? What song are you singing?"
"'Hang on Sloopy'!" McCoy said cheerily between verses, right before he popped in another one of his backup singers. "It's by the McCoys" McCoy explained, "so it's by ME!"
"Oh." Green said. "Well, you know, given that it was recorded in the sixties by a pop group, it was probably written by your producer or something."
"Oh," McCoy said, all happiness disappearing from his face as he tried to think of a reply. Instead, he ate another mento and resumed his singing with much vim and vigor. Life was good.
Green left McCoy with the song now lodged in his head just as Lennie sidled over to offer McCoy some words of encouragement-as a former alcoholic he felt that he should give McCoy some support and let him know that there was still hope. He was nearly done with his speech when he looked over and noticed something, the most terrible thing that could ever happen to him and to the Two-Seven.
Now, the Twenty-Seventh Precinct is a delicate piece of machinery, made up of many parts, and if just one of those parts breaks than the entire machine will collapse and fall into disrepair until that part is fixed and work can resume. And the central piece, the most important bit of machinery, the keystone of the Precinct, is the coffee maker. And so, when it gurgled to a halt that cold day in December, all hell broke loose.
*~*~*
TBC.
Additional Note: we request at least three reviews before we post the next chapter. So, if you are reading this, please give us a review even if it isn't signed, our egos are very underfed.