DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, except my little French man; all rights belong to Noelio and Julian so please don't sue…I am but a poor college student.
SUMMARY: Old Gregg is getting very confused about where his Baileys is going so he confronts who he thinks is the culprit. Funny little one-shot.
A/N: This was written for a competition which my sister made up for me, a couple of friends and my mum. It's also my first Boosh fic so don't be too harsh.
The Case of the Missing Baileys
"Do you love me? Are you playin' those love games with me?" The silence of the underwater cave was broken by the soft muttering of a sea transvestite in a pink tutu. Happily pinning up the watercolour of Howard T. J. Moon, he latest obsession, he stood back and admired the image. "Old Gregg's thirsty, gonna go get a fresh Baileys." Offering the picture a smile, he told it that it would need to entertain itself for a few minutes but that he would be as quick as he could. He then wandered off to the other side of the cave in search of a drink.
Five minutes later, however, a horrified scream pierced the air and an empty Baileys bottle was flung at the wall. "Noooo! Where's the Baileys…mmm creamy?" Stomping back over to the picture, he glared at it before letting out an annoyed sigh. "H…H…How could you Howard?" Placing a scaly hand against the cold stone, he shook his head; seaweed locks falling in his face as he did so. "Old Gregg has been nothing but good to you Howard Moon, not many people would still love you with those Patrick Swayze eyes of yours." Shooting a hurt expression at the picture, he waited for a response but got even more annoyed when the image didn't answer. "Well Howard, what do you have to say for yourself?" He was greeted by silence and let out a frustrated sigh. "I see, givin' Old Gregg the silent treatment are you?" No reply. "Listen small eyes, unless you wanna end up like Curly Jefferson, you'll give me one good reason why you took my Baileys…mmm soft, creamy, beige." He received no answer yet again but couldn't bring himself to tear down the watercolour so opted instead to pick up his jacket and head off for the supermarket.
It was in the shop that Gregg fell in love all over again. Glancing at the shelf, he smiled and reached out to stroke the new, full, shiny bottle in front of him. He was so preoccupied with the shelf full of alcohol that he completely missed the jazzy Northerner that crept past him.
"What's the matter with you, you look like you've just seen a ghost?" The glittery, shorter man smiled up at Howard as the older man gestured to the tutu-clad transsexual at the end of the isle.
"I think it'd be more accurate to say that I've just relived a horrible nightmare I had a couple of weeks ago. The Northerner quickly mouthed a name to the younger man before grabbing his wrist and pulling him away from the rainbow of alcopops which he was looking at. "Come on Vince, home…now."
An hour later, Gregg had made it home with four full bottles of Baileys and a half empty one; the contents of which had been consumed on the way back to his cave. He quickly pulled the prize possessions out of the bags and carefully placed them on a shelf before pouring a glass and walking over to his art easel. He was incredibly confused however, when he found that another bottle had gone missing an hour and a half later. "Hmm…Howard I thought we'd gone over this…" He was in the middle of a ranting at the picture when he heard the sound of a bottle being lifted from the shelf. Whirling around, he was shocked to see a tall, skinny figure clutching at his Baileys. It was dressed head-to-toe in black and Gregg's eyes widened when he saw the wild, untamed head of hair resting beneath a slanted beret on the man's head. "Who are you? What are you doin' in my waters…I mean cave?"
"Bonjour, I am Monsieur Chevalier. Who are you?" The man was confident and cocky as he raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow and waited.
"I'm Old Gregg." He cautiously moved closer to the figure, curious as to how he had gotten in and why he was there.
All of Gregg's questions however, were forgotten as the French man held up the bottle and smiled. "Do you want a Baileys?"
Enthusiastically nodding, he batted his eyelashes and flicked his seaweed out of his eyes. "You know Monsieur, I think I like you." Leaning against a rock, he looked over at the watercolour then back at Monsieur Chevalier. "What do you think of me?"
And so, a new relationship began to blossom and it wasn't long before 'Howard' lay on the floor, a watercolour of a man in a beret in its place.
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A/N: Please review and let me know what you think. And please don't kill me for the ending…in the words of Howard Moon…I've got so much to give. Anyway reviews are nice so please and thank you.