Heya. Disclaimer time. I don't own Maureen or Joanne, or anything RENT related, save for a small white candle and a used matchbook. So yeah. Please don't be suing me. Also, R&R if you please? It makes me happy.
A letter. Who writes letters anymore? Maureen walked into the kitchen tearing open the envelope addressed in her mother's handwriting. At least she's acknowledging I live with Joanne now, she thought, satisfied with her small victory. And now to look at the damn thing. It took Maureen a moment to get over the monogrammed letterhead, but she eventually settled down enough to read.
Mo was bored by "Dear Maureen," so she briefly skimmed through the writing. Details really weren't ever her thing anyway. Apparently her grandmother's will was being executed, and Maureen was in it. "Come home to claim your property," blah blah blah. She tossed the letter onto the kitchen table and then wandered over to the sofa to vegetate until Joanne came home.
It was 11:32 at night by the time Joanne opened the door, only to find Maureen asleep on the couch and snoring just loudly enough to be heard over the latest TLC special on midgets. She dropped her coat and briefcase by her side and walked over to her girlfriend. "Mo? Honeybear? Come on, lets get you to bed." Maureen mumbled and groaned but let Joanne help her up and into the bedroom. It was clear that Joanne had had a long day, and that midgets had done nothing for Maureen's sex drive, because after Mo had wrestled the boots of her feet, and Jo had thrown pajamas on, they tumbled into bed and fell fast asleep.
The next morning, all thoughts of her grandmother's will had left Maureen's mind until she found herself sitting and sipping her first cup of coffee, trying to use the letter as a napkin.
"Oh! Pookie. We're going to Hicksville," Maureen stated as she held the letter up in exclamation.
"What? We? Honeybear, there is no 'we' in Hicksville," a tired and grumpy Joanne replied.
Maureen gave her first pout of the day. "But Pookie . . .."
"No," Joanne said sternly, thinking of the few uncomfortable moments she'd previously spent in the presence of the Johnson family.
"But Joey, I'll need a lawyer," Maureen whined.
This caught Joanne's attention. "What the hell did you do, Maureen?"
Maureen gesticulated wildly towards Joanne with the envelope, before sliding it over to her. "Read it, Oh lawful one. I won something."
Joanne snatched the letter and glanced down at it. Still scanning the page, she snorted and said, "Won something? Maureen, your grandmother died!"
"We were made aware of this two months ago, Pookie."
"I know, but Maureen, that isn't winning, that's losing a grandmother and being loved enough to be remembered in her will."
"She was a bitch. And she died first. I didn't. I get her stuff. I win."
Joanne raised her eyebrows, then shook her head before looking down to read more. "Well, you won an armchair."
Oh hey. It's that damned author again. Just apologizing for the oodles of grammatical errors in this chapter that I just went back and fixed. I blame the girl who typed the story as I dictated it to her over the phone. She fails. R&R please and thankya.