West Wing Sings Silly Songs
By Len
Spoilers: Possibly nothing, possibly everything...at least '17 People'.
Teaser: In an attempt to "Bring the funny" our heroes get a bit out of hand. This little story has no plot whatsoever. And I don't know where Toby went, but he's not here....
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be. And believe me, they thank their lucky stars for that everyday. Also, Weird Al, the Veggie Tales, and Colin Buchanan have not given me permission to massacre their songs. I'm acting all on my own.
Note: So much for study. This one goes out to Rosie-that crazy little cucumber. You know what I mean. Cebu, man.
More notes: I think you may need to have a truly freakish knowledge of all the above artists and their songs to "get" this, but I hope not. Have fun, guys. I'm back to the books. First posted at the JoshDonnaFF yahoo group.
"Okay, how about this?" Josh asks standing up next to me, demanding attention, "I heard yesterday that the majority leader is planning on taking his vacation-"
Ainsley Hayes, also known as the only woman I'd bet on to win a fight with Sam, rolls her eyes. "I really do believe that the sheer frequency of majority leader jokes in this speech will detract from the level of funny you are trying to achieve, Josh," she objects. He stops, his mouth hanging open.
"But I was just getting to the good part," he argues.
"A description which is becoming more and more relative by the minute," Sam mutters from across the table.
"Hey-we're doing you a favor here, my friend. You needed the funny. We're bringing you the funny."
"That joke's not funny, Josh," I inform him.
He rounds on me, but his brown eyes are sparkling with laughter. "That coming from the woman who believes dead audience jokes are the height of comedic endeavor."
"She doesn't think they're funny. She believes they're a necessary device. And I, for one, must ardently agree with her opinion."
"Thank you, Ainsley. See?" I say, turning to my boss, "she understands."
"Understands...Did I miss something?" He raises his eyebrows.
"The speech sucks, Josh," I clarify. "We're talking black-hole level of suckiness here."
Josh sits back down. "Well, thank you Carl Sagen. So, if you don't want to use my Majority leader jokes, am I correct in assuming you have something better?"
I don't. But of course I don't tell Josh that. I smile in what I hope is an enigmatic manner and look away. At the end of the table, Larry gulps down the last of his coffee and cracks open another soda. He is frowning intently at the legal pad in front of him.
"All we have is a joke about the Texas Governor's horse and an 'iffy' one about an intern working in Senator-"
"No!" everyone chimes from around the table. "I don't think provoking the Senator's office like that would be a very good idea," Sam adds.
Larry shrugs, and crosses it off the list. 'So, we use the horse joke?"
Josh groans and buries his head in his arms. I, on the other hand, decide to take a more pro-active approach. I remove a thin paperback joke book from the pile in the middle of the table, and skim the contents.
"Oh-listen to this!" I jump up and wave my hand to get attention.
"Here we go..."Josh mutters. I glare at him. "'Why are there only twelve Republicans in Heaven?'"
"Why?" Ainsley asks.
"'Because if there were any more it would be Hell,' " I recite.
Ainsley's face kind of falls, but the men snicker. "I don't think that's entirely appropriate, Donna," she says reproachfully.
Sam grins. "Yeah, but it's kind of funny."
"It really isn't."
"It really is."
"Isn't."
"Is."
"Isn't."
I feel like I'm watching a tennis match. This night has just reached an all-new low. You know things are bad when our outspoken Republican lawyer and our administration speech writer are using words of two syllables to argue.
Next to me, Josh looks up from the table and watches them in disbelief. "Uh, guys?"
They ignore him.
"Hey guys?"
They keep arguing.
I lean back in my chair and start on my forth bag of peanut M&Ms. "I suppose we could just introduce a little song and dance number to break the monotony. You know, like have the senior staff jump out of a cake and start head-banging to 'Born In The U.S.A.'," I suggest.
Well, that got their attention.
The two Communications Aides, Sam Seaborne, and Ainsley Hayes stare at me. Josh, on the other hand, is giggling hysterically. He has this disconcerting tendency to start behaving like a hyperactive six year old when I let him have too much sugar, too late at night . I grab his soda and replace it with a bottle of water.
"CJ could do the Jackal!" he finally manages to gasp out.
"What's so funny about a jackal?" Ainsley asks. "I've always thought they were rather intimidating, alarming creatures myself."
That's right. Ainsley has never seen the Jackal. Next to her, Sam cocks his head to one side and asks patronizingly, "Well, is there a particular animal you'd like us to use? I don't want you to be alarmed."
"Why are we talking about animals?" Ed asks plaintively. "I thought we we're sticking to Republicans?"
"Shhh!" Josh orders. "We're bringing the funny. This kinda thing you have to just let happen. Let it come to you..."
"And that concludes this evening meditations with Guru Lyman," I crack. He glances at me and takes a swing of water. Larry snorts.
"Cows. I've always been rather fond of cows," Ainsley says suddenly.
"Cows?"
"Yeah."
"I can honestly say I don't know any songs about cows," Josh says. We all nod in agreement and lapse into silence.
Wait a minute... "Hey! Cebu!"
Ainsley's face breaks out into a blinding smile. "Moo moo!"
"Yes!" we say together.
The guys look at us like we're slightly nuts. Hey, it turns out I don't do well with sugar late at night, either.
"'Kay-Donna?" Josh starts.
"Yeah?"
"I'm cutting you off," he says, removing the half-empty bag of M&Ms from my hand. I pout, but he ignores me.
"What the hell is Cebu?" Sam asks.
Ainsley turns innocent blue eyes on him. "It's kind of like a cow."
"Well, I've never heard of it," Josh announces, and jumps up to pace around the room.
"Josh, a Cebu is a fictional character," I inform him, "With you being Mr. 'Isn't a Lynx a Kind of Opossum', I admit to being slightly surprised you haven't heard of it."
"Hey-it's your job to know useless mythology, not mine."
"A Cebu isn't a mythological animal. It's Veggie Tales."
"It's what?"
"Veggie Tales. My niece is crazy about them. They're fun."
"And the songs are also quite catchy," Ainsley adds.
"Yeah-the Cebu song is great! 'Sick Cebu is rowing and sneezing..."I sing.
"Achoo moo moo, achoo moo moo, achoo moo moo!" Ainsley chimes in.
"Moo moo!" we finish together. We actually sound pretty good. The guys gape at us.
"Okay," Sam says, "That was interesting." Josh grunts in agreement.
"There's more-" I say, " 'Hippo chewing on bamboo-"
"Donna!"
"Yeah, Josh?"
"You're really starting to freak me out."
I pout. And I do it just because it gets on his nerves. "Do you know who you remind me of, Joshua? Those hecklers from the Muppet Show. You know-'It could be worse-we could be sitting in the audience! Ho ho ho!'"
He grins at me. "Have I ever told you what an extraordinarily funny lady you are?"
"Once or twice."
Sam coughs. "Weird Al is funny."
Ainsley rolls her eyes. "Oh, God."
"Yes!" Josh shoots up out of his chair again. The man is like a jack-in-the-box. "'Amish Paradise' is a classic! 'So don't be vain and don't be whiny/ Or else, my brother, I might just have to get medieval on your heinie!" he carols, badly.
"The Cheeseburger Song!" I exclaim, looking across to my fellow Veggie Tales fan. "I love that one!"
"Me too! 'You are his cheeseburger, his lovely cheeseburger, he'll wait for you-ooo, oh he'll wait for-"
Sam is frantically trying to interrupt our little concert. "What about the Rabbi Song, Josh?"
"Yet another classic! Let me tell you, Weird Al has a kind of genius that few on this earth will ever be able to even approach, much less..." Josh trails off into incoherency, lost in admiration.
"Rabbi Song? Can you sing it to me, Sam?"
Sam turns an interesting shade of pink. "Erm...no. I can't sing. At all."
"I thought your mom stuck you in boy's choir when you were a kid."
Ha. It must suck having your best friend working with you. Sam sends an exasperated look in Josh's direction. "No. I don't sing."
"Mecha lecha hi, mecha heiney heiney ho!" Josh yells.
"Again, when you yell, it's hard to find the funny."
I don't think he even noticed he was yelling. He turns to me, and looks somewhat surprised to find himself up out of his chair again. "I like the Vegetable Song," offers Larry from the end of the table.
Ainsley looks slightly confused. "I haven't heard that one. Which movie is it from?"
"No--it's Colin Buchanan. 'V-E-T-E-G-A-B-L-E-S-Y-U-M-M-Y-Y-U-M-M-Y-E-A-T-T-H-E-M-U-P!' You know it?"
"Oh. It's a spelling song?"
"It's about this girl named Leanne who doesn't like vegetables. So she throws them on the lawn, sticks them in her ears, things like that."
"Well, that sounds like a fun song," Josh comments.
"Stick it in your ear, Josh," I reply. Yeah, I couldn't really help that one.
"Hey!"
"Guys, it's one thirty in the morning," Sam, the voice of reason, reminds us. "I want to get home before dawn."
So we put our noses to the grindstone, burnt the midnight oil, and various other cliches. Sometime around two thirty, we have a draft of a speech that is a huge improvement upon the 'Stick me with a tray jack' version. Unfortunately, it has no John Wayne impression. I would have paid money to see the President do a John Wayne impression.
We scatter in three directions, with Ainsley and Sam bickering about women's rights again, and Larry and Ed shaking their heads in wonder. I recognize the looks they wear, because working in Josh Lyman's office, I've seen it often. The 'I can't believe they let these guys run the government' look.
"I have to admit," Josh says as we walk from the Roosevelt Room, "I would have paid money to see the President doing a John Wayne impression."
"Yeah, but I don't think the sock-puppet would have gone over well."
"You're probably right."
I go to my desk and pack everything into my tote bag. My hands linger on the vase of flowers. In whatever spirit they were sent, they really brighten the place up. Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, 'The earth laughs in flowers', and this bouquet could certainly support that claim. Never let it be said that Josh Lyman can't pick out laughing flowers. Although he can't pick out a good joke even if it's written in four-foot neon letters.
"I'm taking off now, Josh. See ya...later," I say, poking my head into his office.
"Kay. Oh, Donna?"
"Yeah?"
" 'I've never painted daisies on a big red rubber-ball' ," he says conversationally.
I grin at him. " 'Wacka wacka do do, yeah.'"
~*~ The End ~*~