Author's Notes
I'm currently in a phase of sorting out some old CD's to find research material and old drafts for another story that I'm working on.
And then, you know how it goes, - you find something old that you wrote a lifetime ago and some form of compulsion or intrigue or something compels you to give it a read through.
This is another one of those oldies that I pulled out of the mothball data bin and revised – a little - and then plopped it here to share.
Setting: For the pure fun of it, placing this one sometime near to the approach of the end of Season Three. Although I am not sure if Amanda actually had a desk up in the Q-Bureau until Season Four (and because I'm not digging through boxes to find the VHS tapes) I went ahead and threw one up there for her anyhow.
Legalese: As you all know, the characters of Scarecrow and Mrs. King belong purely to whoever currently owns them. I only occasionally borrow them because I think it seems a pity to keep them in cold storage. They are, after all, so loveable and adorable that it would be shame to waste that magical chemistry.
As always, I will put them right back where I found them – no harm, no foul.
Everybody happy?
Good.
This crazy little story belongs totally to the author and is NOT to be copied or reproduced in any way, shape or form without the express written consent of the author – who would be me. To do so would result in nasty consequences from the Great Horned Spoon.
If you wish to review it, that's fine but my warning of – it is not my best work and by no means is meant to resemble work by Shakespeare - goes out to all readers.
It is only meant to bring a smile and maybe a chuckle to someone who reads it.
And now….as they say…on to the mayhem or…if you don't like that expression…..off to the playground.
Happy Mayhem
Mistakes happen. We all know that they are a fact of life, those little unplanned scenarios that just sort of result because of whatever.
"Mistake my foot," Amanda King grumbled as her concentration was broken, yet again, by her partner who, at this moment was paying the price for one of those little accidental mistakes that just sometimes happens and then proceeds to play havoc with those caught within the firing range.
"If I didn't know him any better, I'd say he planned this just to get out of this," she sighed as she glanced over the pile of folders now lying in a jumbled heap upon the desk.
"He hates that computer, it takes a forensic scientist to make heads or tails out of his writing and he really knew that I wanted to spend the day shopping at K-Mart," she said aloud, even though it was very apparent that nobody was listening to her.
"Can I help it if I have a mortgage, two teenagers and a budget? I mean, really," she rambled on, "what thrifty mother could possible turn down Tremendous Tuesday Take-downs and blue-light specials?"
Amanda looked across the room towards Lee, who was currently sporting a horribly pathetic smile upon his face that just screamed adoration and other lustful thoughts that Amanda certainly knew he would not really be thinking if he were in his right and rational mind.
She couldn't help but sigh at the sight of her partner, who had no choice but to sit there in his chair and stare at her while she did all of the work.
At least now, she thought with a mischievous smile, she could do their work without further and unwarranted interruptions from the slightly incapacitated Scarecrow.
Disabled he was, momentarily, but it was not really his fault. He had been the one to come in to work this morning with a headache, a real doozy of one.
Oh, she had tried to help, so she had. She had made the offer, but the only thing that had been in her purse were a few remaining Midol tablets in a bottle.
While Lee had agreed, with a slight snicker, that they might help some of the problems in the universe, he had really doubted their ability to help him. Amanda had tried to tell him but no, he wouldn't listen.
Therefore, the great Scarecrow, willingly, had actually made his way to the Agency pharmacist only to find the man standing over the counter, jabbering away excitedly with someone on the other end of the phone while hovering over a silver tray on the counter that was full of little white cups that resembled the little ones that you put your ketchup in at Wendy's.
Each cup help held a myriad of mysterious capsules – all colors, all shapes and all sizes.
The man had help up his hand, indicating to Scarecrow to be patient for a moment and then, finally, after what seemed a very lengthy time to a man who had no patience and a pounding head, the pharmacist, who still held the phone to his ear had turned to Lee.
"Problem?"
Lee told him that he had a headache.
The pharmacist nodded before turning from Lee as the voice on the other end of the phone line began speaking again, almost loud enough for Lee to make out the words if he had been interested, which he hadn't been.
The druggist began searching for the correct bottle of medicinal aid for the agent while listening to his call and that is how it happened. Accidental and unintentional – it was one of those stupid little mistakes that could have been prevented if only a multitude of things had not been going on simultaneously.
The man had been growing more excited with the telephone conversation and was now prancing back and forth. As he spoke and moved, the telephone cord sometimes danced dangerously close to the tops of the rainbow pills and such arranged on the counter.
Lee himself had been growing more impatient and had begun pacing back and forth between that counter and the door that led out of the pharmacy, his mind almost contemplating marching back up to the Q-Bureau and taking Amanda's offering of Midol tables and downing them with a Pepsi.
She claimed it worked wonders for her.
The pharmacist had finally dumped several headache relief tablets in a little white paper cup for Lee.
Mayhem began when he set them down on the counter for a moment to jot something down on his yellow legal pad.
His eyes had been focused on that darned tablet. The phone had been jammed between his ear and his shoulder and his mind totally focused on whoever was on the other end of the phone. He scribbled away.
Lee, who had been pacing towards the door, turned around and yet again shuffled towards the counter.
The pharmacist didn't raise his eyes from the tablet; he just extended his free hand and plucked the little white cup up with two fingers.
He handed it to Lee without a word and, less than a minute later the exasperated Scarecrow had swallowed them down with a few gulps of water. He had hurried back to the Q, knowing that his partner really wanted to salvage at least part of the day to do some shopping.
Lee would be the first to admit that she had earned the time and she had been a very patient woman these past several weeks with him so he intended to make sure that she was out of there no later than lunchtime. It was a promise that Lee wanted very much to keep.
Funny thing, isn't it - how a simple little mix-up can lead to a whole lot of mayhem.
to be continued