Another treat for Rare Women (2014) on Livejournal, this time owed to Empress-Eerian-Sadow who requested Judy Witwicky and her notorious (self-inflicted) bad luck. As soon as I read the idea I had to take a chance because she's my gal. :V Judy oftentimes reminded me of my own mother whenever she was on screen, so it's only right to give the character the opportunity to shine.
Credit goes to Cassandra Cassidy for making me aware of the challenge, as well as beta reading on such short notice. If any errors remain let me know so I can direct Ironhide's cannons at them.
Sam was turning eighteen and his mother was determined to make the event perfect. Her son had insisted that it was unnecessary to celebrate it this year because of things like graduating, scouting for prospective colleges, and maintaining diplomatic relationships between alien robots getting in the way.
"When will I have time?" he'd asked, while on the way out the door to pick up his girlfriend. Only Judy's honed expertise as a parent allowed her to decipher the question given he was also trying to stuff two of her strawberry muffins in his mouth at once. She'd hear none of his excuses, though.
"Don't talk with your mouth full, you'll choke," Judy warned, just as he swallowed some breakfast the wrong way as she'd predicted.
Patting him on the back, she guided Sam inside the yellow Camaro parked front and center in the driveway and told him in no uncertain terms not to worry about it. Surely he deserved a break, and better yet she'd plan the whole thing. In the past she'd put together family BBQs for twenty and supervised the neighborhood book club for six months running, so how hard could it be?
Of course she got her way, after promising that no clowns or games like pinning the tail on the donkey would make an appearance. Before he'd disappeared around the block Judy was already planning out the finer details: what meals she'd make, who to invite, how to put together the backyard. Her husband was a little harder to convince on the latter, given his aversion to anyone entering what he considered his domain, but promises of her vigilant cleaning and his chance to shine at the grill led to just a few grumbles prior to his assent.
In three weeks, she'd written and sent out the invitations. All the grocery and present shopping was finished. The decorations were put up the night before, with additional accommodations like tables and seating ready to be set up in the morning. Judy had meticulously overseen every aspect of the celebration, down to the very clothes she expected her son to wear.
And in three minutes the entire occasion was in shambles.
Mojo kept her company in the kitchen as she finished up preparations – the icing on the dessert was being unwieldy due to the heat and she was forced to do the finishing touches before serving it. Everyone had shown up, from that charming technician that always complimented her donuts to the Lennox family. His daughter was quite well-behaved; even Sam was enchanted with playing with her. Judy certainly appreciated the distraction while she completed her last task for the party.
Placing the candles on the cake, she hefted the platter onto both hands and returned to the backyard. "All right everybody, I hope you're still hungry for-"
The garage was on fire, Judy noticed. Really on fire. The smoke filled the majority of the yard and the flames were nearly as high as the second story of their home. There hadn't been an incident that intense since the time Ron tried to teach their son how to cook her dinner for Mother's Day in 96'.
People were running around in a panic, that computer expert (Judy vowed to really learn that young man's name one of these days) screaming in particular as he dived behind an overturned table to join Sam's two army friends. Robert, William and his family were holed up there trying to shush Annabelle, but the noise was too much.
"Where's the garden hose?" Ron yelled from the side of the house, overturning garbage cans in his attempt to find it himself.
"In the garage," Sam told him.
"Then use the fire extinguisher!"
"Also in the garage."
"Guys, come on, calm down," Mikaela tried to be the voice of reason – bless her, Judy knew she adored her for a reason – but Judy could only watch as their other guests, the giant robots, intervened. During broad daylight. In clear view of their neighbors' windows.
"Sam," Judy called, but her son didn't respond so she put a little more screech in for emphasis. "Samuel James, you tell your automachines to be cars this instant!"
"Mom, I've told you, they're Autobots and you can ask them nicely yourse- Bumblebee, Ironhide, no! Stop, stop, stop, please!" Sam dropped what he was hunting for and rushed back over to the driveway, waving his arms wildly to get their attention. "What are you doing? You're making things worse!"
"Negative," Bumblebee's plus-one, the black truck, said as he started stomping on what was left of the unit to smother the fire. Wood splintered and collapsed, sending more debris and dust into the air. When the flames were put out, the one called Ironhide nodded once. "Threat neutralized, but scans still show intense heat not recommended for contact."
Gradually, partygoers emerged from their hiding places. There was overturned grass and Mojo's penthouse was a little crooked, but overall Judy felt this was recoverable. The nice agents from the government were experienced at cover-ups now, so there was no sense in making their extraterrestrial visitors uncomfortable at this point.
Clearing her throat, Judy put on a smile and said, "Well, at least there's still some cake."
A shudder from the remains of the garage garnered their attention, and kept it as something released with a harsh bang. Judy found the fire extinguisher, if a little late, although it's more accurate that the device found her. The unit was old and secondhand, no doubt never really to code, and the fire must have released whatever was left inside because it went skyrocketing right for Judy Witwicky. With a squawk she was forced to dive headfirst out of the way, the cake breaking her fall.
"Oh," was all Judy said. Mojo helpfully tried to remove some frosting from her hair.
"Mrs. Witwicky?" someone asked. Distantly, Judy recognized the other person as Glen's – ah yes, that was the technician's name – date, Maggie. She'd gotten the impression that she was a nice, levelheaded girl, but Judy was wasn't feeling up to being civil in return. Judy sniffled.
"Mom?" Sam tried addressing her next, at the same that time Ron said, "Honey? Are you…okay?"
"Oh," she said again, pushing herself up. Judy's grip was slippery and she sat up to see her shirt liberally encrusted in chunks of dessert.
"Mom, come on… It's fine. This isn't as bad as it looks."
"It's not fine!" Judy finally exploded and angrily waved away her son's attempts at helping her up. "This is anything but okay. You're eighteen, for Chrissake! That's never going to happen again and we can only celebrate it one time and now it's ruined. Everything was supposed to be perfect."
He was stubborn, though, and evaded her shooing motions to take her by the upper arm and lift Judy back to her feet. "Come on, it's not serious. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it anyway."
"Well you should! We all should, because…because this time last year, your father and I- We were almost celebrating with a pine box." Judy was crying now; she could sense her nose swelling up and her eyes getting puffy. But everything that had been building up to this point, the real point, was coming out whether she willed it or not. "All of us almost died, you know? And it's not fair that you should be punished with all this extra stress when kids your age should only have to worry about summer jobs or prom. I just wanted one day where none of us had worries or invasions hanging over our heads, and we could be thankful to be alive together."
Nobody said anything immediately afterwards, Judy's hiccupping loud in the silence. Then Sam gripped her arm a little bit tighter, a little bit warmer, and bent down to swipe a finger through the frosting. He tasted it, swishing the food around and releasing his finger with a wet pop.
"Is this double-chocolate?"
"Your favorite," Judy responded, automatic.
"Oh man, I haven't had some of this since I was what, five? Somebody get me a plate, I am not missing out on this."
"Sweetie, no, it's dirty and I'm wearing most of it-"
"I've got a stack of 'em right here," Robert said, picking up the nearest grouping whose packaging hadn't been torn open in the shuffle. In that moment, Judy could understand why William trusted him so much.
"Forks, too," Mikaela said, brandishing a box of plastic utensils that she then passed out to the group.
Together, everyone gathered around and sat down on the grass in a semi-circle, trying to get a piece even if it was just a bite's worth. Over the din of compliments and light-hearted chatter, Bumblebee played Marilyn Monroe's rendition of Happy Birthday Mr. President. Judy began to relax as she felt her husband's arm wrap around her shoulders, his chin resting at her temple.
"Good job, honey. I think this is your best party yet."
"Me, too," she agreed. A beat later, "So how did that fire get started, anyway?"
Quiet fell again, although Ironhide was kind enough to notify her, "I was informed that celebratory proceedings require what your people term 'fireworks'. I was only trying to abide by your traditions."
Judy pretended not to have heard that to preserve the moment.