Author's Notes
Loving the fourth season already.
The Maternal Analogizing
Continuity: Season 2, just before "The Maternal Capacitance."
Leonard let himself into the apartment, shrugged off his bag, and threw himself facedown onto the couch. Maybe if he lay there long enough, he could figure out a way to accomplish time travel and prevent his past-self from answering his cellphone earlier today without even checking the caller ID. Or maybe sometime in the next ten minutes, the floor beneath him would suffer a gravitational collapse, form a black hole, and swallow him whole.
One of those was bound to happen.
"You're in my spot."
Leonard lifted his head slightly, his glasses askew, and stared up at Sheldon, who was hovering expectantly over him with a container of Chinese food in hand. Grumbling a little, he pushed himself upright, whereupon Sheldon immediately sat down and began to eat, but did not stray farther than that. That black hole might just be slow in coming.
"What's the matter with you?" Howard asked as he walked over from the kitchen.
"My mother is coming to town," Leonard groaned, burying his head into the throw-pillow he had hugged against his chest.
"That bad, huh?"
"You have no idea," his voice coming out a little muffled.
"What, are you joking?" said Howard, not at all sympathetically. "Have you met the harridan that is my mother?"
"You don't understand," Leonard sighed as he resurfaced. "Your mother actually treats you like you're her son. Mine is under the impression I was born to be her test subject."
"All mothers exhibit that kind of Machiavellian behavior in some form on their progeny," declared Sheldon. "For example, my mother seemed to think that if she forcibly dragged me to church every Sunday, I would be transformed into a God-fearing zealot of superstitious mythology."
Raj flopped into the lounger. "I only ever speak to my mother through the internet," he said around a mouthful of chicken lo mein. "That way, if she starts lecturing me for the thousandth time about why she has no grandchildren yet, I can literally press the mute button. It's beautiful. I highly recommend it."
"A mute button," Howard said dreamily. "If only. The closest thing I have to that for my mother is Manischewitz and valium."
Sheldon reflected thoughtfully, "Theoretically, it wouldn't be incredibly difficult to produce a depressant that paralyzes the vocal chords temporarily, i.e. a 'mute button' of sorts, if you will."
"Are you serious?" Howard said, becoming morbidly excited.
"I most certainly am serious." Sheldon frowned. "Are anthropologically-established norms suggesting my mannerisms indicate otherwise?"
Leonard lurched to his feet. "Well thanks, guys," he said as he headed for his room, "you've all been really supportive while I'm in the middle of a crisis over here."
"You're welcome," Sheldon replied.
Pausing to consider if he should take the time to point out to Sheldon that he was being sarcastic, Leonard decided his time would be more usefully spent quietly banging his head on the desk in his room. Which he proceeded to in fact do.
End Author's Notes
Insanely short, I know, but I had to get it out of my system.
