Disclaimer: I do not own anything, not the song (which is property of Broadway's Wicked), not the characters (Ara is property of LittlePsychoWolf, and Nonny is property of Much Ado About Nonny).
Now, I think you all know that LittlePsychoWolf and Much Ado About Nonny are the only authors that I've co-written with, but lately we haven't done much work. So I decided to spice things up by having them in a fic that I thought suited them (except their characters and characteristics are a bit exaggerated). I hope they don't mind me borrowing their characters -- but it IS a surprise gift, after all.
I hope you all enjoy!
Side Note: Ferret-Kel does not play Fiyero, nor does Fox-Kel. Though its understandable why any of you would think that. ;)
The curtain parted, revealing two very famous creatures:
Two animals stood up on stage, one on the left and one on the right. Despite the fact that they were both females, rather young, and slender, they were entirely different.
The beast on the left was a pine marten (vermin), while the beast on the right was a mouse (woodlander).
The marten had the ordinary colorings of her species: brown eyes, brown fur with yellow on the throat and ears. The mouse had not-so-ordinary colorings: blue eyes, and blonde fur that looked like it had been combed a hundred times each night.
The marten was dressed all in simple black, with a long, sweeping skirt. The mouse was decked out in a bubble-gum pink dress with frills and flounces all down her short-ish skirt.
The marten sported a pair of dark-framed spectacles, while the mouse sported a large pink blossom behind one ear.
The crowd went wild at the sight of them (for obvious reasons), and the two females either curtsied or bowed, whichever was their fancy. They then turned towards the wings, where each of their beds were supposed to come out so they could sit on them.
However, only one of the beds came out, a simple black-colored one that the marten promptly sat on. The marten began to fiddle with one of her pillows, but then looked up and noticed that the mouse was looking about the stage, bedless, with a confused smile on her face.
The mousemaid gave a sigh. "Oooohhh."
The marten couldn't help but smile. "Where's your bed?"
"I don't know," the mouse replied with sweet perkiness. As the audience began to laugh, she started to sing. "I want my bed! I want my beeeed! I want the set, I want the set — a million dollars! A millllllion dollars!" she cried, spreading her arms wide.
The audience clapped.
The mouse turned to the marten with that same perky smile. ". . . so that was your very first party?"
The marten looked for all the world like she was trying not to laugh. And it certainly didn't help when the mouse pretended to sit down on an imaginary bed.
"So that was your very first party?"
The marten, still trying not to laugh, managed to choke out, "Why don't you come sit with me on my bed?"
"Okay!" the mousemaid gushed as she went over and flounced onto the marten's black bed. "So that was your very first party?"
The marten was still trying not to laugh.
Suddenly, just then, a pink, flounce-covered bed was rolled out on the stage by a very apologetic-looking mole.
"Oh look! Here comes my bed!" the mousemaid squealed happily. She skipped happily foreword and laid down on bed, facing the marten, wiggling her feet in the air. "I just love my bed! . . . So that was your very first party? Ever?"
The marten finally got a hold of herself. "Do funerals count?"
"It was your very first party?!" the mousemaid trilled, placing her paws over her mouth and wiggling her feet even harder. "Oh! I know! Let's tell each other something we've never told anyone else! I'll go first! I'll go first!" She returned to the marten's bed. After a dramatic pause: "Fiyero and I are going to be married."
The mousemaid then gave a loud, unearthly squeal, an airy giggle, and laid her head down in the marten's lap, her feet wiggling again.
It was obvious the marten was very taken aback by the squeal, giggle, and laying-the-head-down-in-her-lap-thing, but she recovered in a surprisingly quick manner. "He's asked you already?"
The mousemaid sat up and stated conversationally, "Oh, he doesn't know yet. Now, you tell me a secret."
"Like what?"
"Like . . ." The mousemaid glanced at the marten's dark pillow, and then reached under it. ". . . why do you sleep with this funny little green bottle under your pillow?"
The marten jumped up. "Give that back!"
The mouse danced out of reach. "No, not till you tell me!"
The marten chased after. "Give it!"
"No, no!"
After bashing the mouse upside the head, the marten finally retrieved the bottle, shouting, "It was my mother's! That's all!" And with that, she returned to her bed.
There was a long, awkward silence as the mousemaid picked herself up, carefully brushing herself off, casting an uneasy glance at the marten, who clutched protectively at the green bottle.
Finally the mouse spoke, awkwardly tracing her foot on the floor. "Well that's not fair, I told you a really good one." Then, with a dramatic sigh and a little flounce, she fell face-down on bed in a lengthwise fashion with her legs sticking out over the side.
After another pause, the marten spoke. "My father hates me."
The mouse sat up and whirled around, gasping.
"Oh, that's not the secret."
The mouse folded her paws patiently and wiggled her feet.
"The secret is . . . he has a good reason. It's my fault."
The mousemaid was shocked. "What? What is?" she asked, again sitting beside the marten.
"That my sister is the way she is. You see, when our mother was carrying Nessa, our father used to worry that she might come out . . . like me."
The mousemaid gaped.
The marten continued. "He used to worry so much, that he made our mother chew milkflowers, day and night. But . . . they made Nessa come too soon. With her little legs all tangled. And our mother . . . never woke up. All that wouldn't have happened if not for me."
"But that was the milkflowers' fault, not your's," argued the mousemaid. "That may be your secret, Ara, but that doesn't mean it's true."
She paused, and then grinned as she gave the marten a hug that was almost a glomp. The marten was a bit startled by the action, but managed to stiffly pat the mousemaid's arm.
The mouse then gazed out window. "Oh look, it's tomorrow!" She sighed dreamily. "And Arie – is it alright if I call you 'Arie'?
". . . it's kinda perky," the marten answered, scratching behind her ear.
The mousemaid smiled. "And you can call me . . ." she paused dramatically. ". . . Nonny! You see, Arie, now that we're friends, I decided to make you my new project."
Ara smiled sarcastically and poked Nonny's knee. "You really don't have to do that."
"I know. . . . That's what makes me so nice." Nonny turned and flashed a smile at the audience (sparkly ping included), stood up, and started to sing again.
Whenever I see someone
Less fortunate than I
"And let's face it," she added in undertone to Ara, "who isn't?"
Less fortunate than I?
My tender heart
Tends to start to bleed.
And when someone needs a make-over
I simply have to take over
I know
"I know," she added in a dramatic whisper, pointing out into the audience.
Exactly what they need.
Nonny then turned back to Ara.
And even in your case
She removed Ara's glasses . . . and blinked. Ara slowly raised her eyebrows. Nonny winced, and put the specs back.
Though it's the toughest case I've yet face
Don't worry
I'm determined to succeed
Follow my lead
Nonny beckoned to Ara, who went and stood by her side.
And yes, indeed
You
Will
Be. . . .
Popular!
You're gonna be popular!
I'll teach you the proper ploys
When you talk to boys
Little ways to flirt and flounce
Nonny then gave a squeak and flounced Ara's skirt – and just barely managed to dance out of the way of the marten's claws.
I'll show you what shoes to wear
She gestured at a pink shelf filled with pink bejeweled sandals.
How to fix that hair – er, fur . . . whatever. . . .
Nonny then sat Ara down on her own pink bed, brushing the marten's bushy tail with a pink comb.
Everything that really counts to be
Popular
I'll help you be popular
You'll hang with the right cohorts
You'll be good at sports
Know the slang you've got to know
So let's start
Nonny then looked Ara up and down with a wrinkled nose, and her voice began to trail off.
Cuz you've got an awfully long way to go. . . .
Ara, discouraged, placed her chin in her palm. Nonny jumped up on the bed behind Ara, holding up her paws in a comforting manner, continuing her song.
Don't be offended by my frank analysis
Think of it as personality dialysis
Now that I've come to be a
pal and sister and adviser
There's nobody wiser
Not when comes to popular
The mousemaid then placed an arm around Ara's shoulder while the other began to wave like a pageant queen.
I know about popular
And with an assist from me
To be who you'll be
Instead of dreary who you were . . . (she paused, and glanced uncertainly back at Ara) . . . well, are
There's nothing that can stop you
From becoming popular . . . lar.
The mousemaid then started dancing around in a somewhat bad imitation of a ballerina.
Laa laaaa
Laaaaa laaaaaaa!
She returned to Ara, who leaned back a bit fearfully, afraid Nonny might smack her with one of her flailing arms.
We're gonna make you
Pop-pu-lar!
The mousemaid then took out some lipstick.
When I see depressing creatures
With unprepossessing features
I remind them on their own behalf
She then tried to apply the lipstick to Ara, but the marten resisted quite fiercely.
To – Think – Of
Nonny finally gave up and replaced the cap on the lipstick.
Celebrated heads of state
Or specially great communicators!
She turned to Ara as though asking her an actual question.
Did they have brains or knowledge?
Nonny was singing still before Ara could give an answer.
Don't make me laugh!
They were popular!
Please! It's all about popular!
It's not about aptitude
It's the way you're viewed
So it's very shrewd to be
Very, very popular like me!
Nonny then gave a little tinkling laugh.
Ara grinned in spite of herself. "This is never gonna work!"
Nonny gasped. "Oh, Arie!" She retrieved her wizarding staff from a pink shelf that appeared out of nowhere. "You mustn't think like that anymore!" she cried as she performed a few acrobatic feats. "Your whole life is going to change, and all because of me–OUCH!"
On the last acrobatic feat, the mousemaid was a little aggressive, and bumped her shin on the bedpost (which wasn't supposed to happen), but she quickly returned to her old perky self.
"Now . . ." Nonny then pulled out a pink-covered book from beneath her fluffy pink pillows. "I wrote a book," she informed Ara, "on how to be popular."
As the mousemaid began to flip through the pages, Ara gave a small cackle, and the audience roared and clapped.
After the cheering had settled down, Nonny continued. "Now, I put together a top-ten list on things to help you."
Ara and the audience laughed.
Nonny began reading off her list. "Now, Arie, everyday . . . shower."
The laughter came harder.
For a small moment, silence followed. Then Nonny read the second thing on the list.
"Deodorant, Arie," the mousemaid read gravely, fanning under her armpits.
The audience roared. Ara nearly fell over.
"Nobeast likes stinky vermin," lectured Nonny, earning her some more laughs. " . . . I think we covered the fur . . . we'll get to that. Clean underclothes . . . that's all I'm gonna say."
Once again Nonny had to wait for the audience to stop chortling. "Look at your posture. That's no way to be popular!"
Ara, giggling, sat up straighter.
Nonny read off more from the list. "Bed made, room straightened, we've done that. . . . Colors blended."
She looked at Ara for a moment, and then, without a word, looked back at the book. The audience and Ara laughed hardest at this.
Nonny finally put down the book. "The most important thing to have to make yourself popular, is to keep your beautiful smile."
Ara smiled, showing off her milky-white fangs. "Thank you."
"Awww!" said the audience.
"Now then," Nonny went on, "let me show you how to toss your hair – er, fur. Like this: toss, toss." She whipped her head back and forth, causing herself to fall over. The mousemaid gave another unearthly squeal. "Oops! Um, let's try something a little less strenuous, shall we? Here, how about this?"
She gracefully moved her paws through her headfur, and then turned expectantly to Ara.
The marten blinked, but nonetheless tried to imitate Nonny – only to nearly fall over herself.
Nonny pursed her lips. ". . . ummm . . . how about something a little more simple? Like this? Toss, toss!" She gave two quick small tosses to her fur.
Ara did the same. "Toss, toss."
"Good, good!" Nonny said, excited now that they were making some progress. "Now let's try this." She started jerking her head in little movements that made her fur ripple like a field of golden grain.
Ara stared in shock for a moment before trying to copy such an action, but only ended up looking like a robot vibrating.
"Well, you'll practice," Nonny assured her. "Now stand up."
As the marten did so, the mousemaid picked up her staff. "I shall now transform your simple frock into a magnificent ball gown!"
Nonny waved her wand about in a simple manner before pointing it at Ara's dress. "Ball gown!"
Ara squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before looking down expectantly. No change.
Nonny cocked head, tapping her palm with the staff. But then she perked up, and made flourishing gestures with the wand. And then, standing on one foot, she pointed the wand at Ara and spoke with a singsong voice. "Ball goooooooooooooown!"
Ara looked down. No change.
Nonny pursed her lips, bended her knees, and then took both of ends of the staff in each paw, swinging her hips around. Afterwards she aggressively pointed the staff at Ara, shouting, "BALL GOWN!"
Ara glanced down. No change.
Nonny looked at her staff irritably. "Is this thing on?"
The mousemaid then tried to make sparks (or something) come out of the end. "What the heck is wrong with this thing?!"
Ara stepped forward. "Do you want me to try?"
"No, no, I got it, I got it!" was Nonny's impatient answer. Finally she gave up and tossed the staff away, figuring she'd just get it fixed after the show was over.
"Ah, why don't you just where that frock? Its . . . pretty." (The audience noticed that Nonny choked on the word 'pretty'.) ". . . . and now, for the finishing touch."
Nonny turned around, taking blossom from out behind her ear, shaking her headfur out. She then stepped backwards to Ara, who had sat back down on Nonny's bed. Nonny placed the pink flower besides the marten's ear, and tried to pin the flower into her fur. Tried.
Ara sat still as she waited for Nonny to finish her task, but as the mousemaid began to take longer than expected, the marten began to grin. A few audience members began to giggle.
Finally Nonny gave a grunt and sat up on the bed next to Ara, struggling hard with the flower, trying to get it to stay on the marten's head, almost pushing Ara down, wiggling her blonde-furred feet.
Ara completely lost it, cackling her head off. The audience also went wild, clapping and cheering.
After several fruitless attempts, Nonny finally gave up, stood up, and simply pinned the flower to the front of Ara's dress.
Ara, if possible, laughed harder.
Nonny stepped back and stood still, her arms hanging limply at her sides.
Ara got control of herself as the audience shrieked in mirth, and even adjusted the flower a little.
As soon as everybeast quieted down, Nonny spoke with a breathless monotone: "Ooh, pink goes good with black."
More laughter ensued.
Nonny then began to gush, picking up a pink mirror. "Why miss Ara, look at you!" She held out the mirror to Ara, who shyly turned her face away.
"You're beautiful!" Nonny assured her.
Ara looked back at Nonny, disbelieving, and then took the mirror – and the flower fell right off.
The audience laughed – and they laughed even harder when Ara simply picked up the flower and held it against her face as she looked into the mirror. The marten turned the mirror this way and that before giving a laugh of surprised pleasure.
Then her face crumbled, and she handed the mirror back to Nonny. "I have to go."
And with that, Ara made her exit.
Nonny was rather irked. "Your welcome!"
Shaking her head, the mousemaid suddenly took notice of the mirror. She held it up and gasped before sighing dreamily at her reflection. "Helloooooo."
Once again, the audience clapped and cheered.
The mousemaid then started to sing again, her voice soft and graceful.
And though you protest,
Your disinterest,
I know clandestinely . . . .
Suddenly her voice took on a whole other tone.
You're gonna grin and bear it
Your newfound popularity!
Nonny squealed, and began dancing about again.
Laa laaaa
Laaaaa laaaaaaa!
She jumped onto her bed and pointed offstage after Ara.
You'll be popular!
Just not quite as popular
As meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
The act ended with Nonny giving an adoring look into the mirror.
Another Disclaimer: Oh yeah, I just wanted to mention, the guidebook on how to be popular, I don't own that either. That was made by Kristen Chenowith, the original Glinda. She made that as a present for Idina Menzel on their last Broadway play together. I thought that was a classic act.
EDIT: Oh, and I forgot to point out, certain things in this fic were actually based on actual bloopers that happened on the actual broadway play (such as the missing bed scene, the flower blooper, Galinda flooping down on her bed with her legs sticking out, the "I know" whisper, the pageant queen wave, and Kristen Chenowith's signature squeal).
However, for those of you who think Ara is OOC, I'd like to point out the part where she resisted having lipstick be put on her, that she knocked Nonny upside the head when Nonny stole her bottle, and that Ara tried to stick Nonny with her claws when the mouse flounced her skirt. Just little things like that, I thought, made Ara more Ara-ish.