Ctrl-A-Delete, a Glee fiction
I do not own Glee. Happy MLK day to all of my reviewers!
Dear Kurt,
Today I was home alone, and the power went out. It wasn't surprising. The storm outside was getting pretty gnarly, and visibility was pretty low. Some car probably crashed into a telephone pole. It was relatively dark outside. That does tend to happen in the winter you know. So I pulled out some Yankee candles that my mom had stored in the closet. The one I was using was called MidSummer's Night, which I thought was pretty ironic. They described it as an intoxicating and masculine blend of musk, patchouli, sage and mahogany cologne. Well doesn't that just sound peachy? Let's break it down.
Musk: a penetrating odor obtained from a gland of the male musk deer.
Patchouli: a musky scent reminiscent of fresh-turned soil.
Sage: dried grey-green leaves.
Mahogany: a type of wood.
So yeah, basically my house smelled like a forest, minus the whole world as your bathroom thing. Trust me, if the candle did smell like a wilderness toilet, I would've chucked it out the window. And then, being in a glass jar, it would have broken, and fire would've been all over the place. And then I would have to call the fire department to put it out before my parents came home. I don't care how television portrays them, not all firemen are hot and hunky. Besides, I like my guys on the lean side. Who cares about the body when you could have the voice? I have yet to meet a fireman that can hit a high F. I have yet to meet a fireman period.
Staring at all those little tea lights lined up on the counter got me thinking. Besides power outages, what else do we use these things for? I'll tell you what. Diddly squat. They sit around, unused unless the power goes out. Isn't that truly a shame? What if the lights were purposely off and the room was lit, not to cause eye strain, but to set a mood? A romantic mood. Perhaps some Egyptian cotton sheets and music that goes on unnoticed in the background. Or better yet, a very bubbly bath, where you don't have to worry about who walks in on you, because it's like you're wearing a bubble suit.
Not that your birthday suit doesn't look mighty freaking fine.
Ctrl-A-Delete
Dear Kurt,
This summer, you and I are going mini golfing. I don't care what you have to say about it; it is inevitable. We will dress to the nines, holes that is. 9 holes each equals 18, like the course. See how I worked that in? I thought it was pretty clever.
Of course, we'll have to go shopping for hideous pants first. What game of golf isn't complete without ugly plaid pants? I don't care if it's just putt putt. We can get matching shoes, so we coordinate. I would hate to clash with you. Then you'd make me stand a clear three feet from you at all times to avoid fashion crisis. But we can't wear the same thing, because that'd make us look like our mommy dressed us. Thinking of you as a brother creeps me out. Brothers don't mack on each other. They bro hug. You know, the hand clasp, yank, and pat pat. Not even if I got to touch your butt Kurt.
And even though you probably know how to golf, I'll guide you every step of the way. I'll wrap my arms around you just so, and my fingers will slide down until they are graced with your presence. Then we will swing, and defeat the windmill. Or y'know, whatever hole we're on. Then we'll get all excited and kiss in the heat of the moment. Or at least, that's what I'm blaming it on.
Feel free to argue that it was something more.
Ctrl-A-Delete
Dear Kurt,
Being around you is like trying to sing a lullaby. Back when Karlie was a baby and not this bundle of "let's make Blaine's life as difficult as possible" I used to watch over her. Back when I could call it babysitting without being corrected. She was actually kind of cute back then, when her diaper wasn't full and she didn't have drool dripping down her face.
She'd come over and have some lunch. Then we'd tuck her in the makeshift nursery we had created out of the guest room. She got to use my old Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sheets. They were way too big for her, and I was afraid they'd swallow her whole. Which would've been a bad thing because her parents were paying me five bucks an hour. Not minimum wage, but enough for me to buy a bag of Red Vines. Yes, my obsession was around even back then. I'm surprised my teeth never rotted and fell out.
Having her stuffed with pureed squash, I'd sing her a lullaby. A favorite of hers was "Puff the Magic Dragon." A boy can only sing about so much string and sealing wax. Alas, I resorted to singing her songs that I had heard on the radio. The radio does not play lullabies. Do you know how ridiculously hard it is to sing pop music without being poppy? I'm not talking seeds here. It'd be like lulling a baby to sleep with Gaga. Now a calmer song, like Blueberry Kisses would be much easier to tone down than Bad Romance.
When I'm around you, I have to control my urges too. Some of those urges are belting out into song, despite who is with us. Others are a bit more steamy shall we say?
Now I really want a blueberry muffin. A hot and steamy one, like you.
Ctrl-A-Delete
Dear Kurt,
I know that we're going to the circus together in March and I'm taking you golfing this summer. Which means that in the heat of the moment we will kiss three to six months. That's a quarter of a year. I don't know if I can wait that long. Therefore, I propose that we take a tour of the Spangler candy store and museum. Won't that be sweet! Of course it will, it's candy.
The factory is open Wednesday through Friday during the winter. Problem is, they're only open from 10-3. We'd have to skip school to go. Unless of course we go on that staff development day. Isn't it convenient how all of the staff goes to their conference on the same day so they don't have to hire substitutes? It's a shame really to waste such valuable learning time. Unlike at McKinley, substitutes don't mean paper airplanes and name switching. Trust me, I'm pretty sure neither of us want to be in the shoes of Wes or David.
Oh, they even have a Dum Dum trolley Kurt! I've always wanted to ride one. Well, at least since 5 minutes ago when I saw the picture on their website. But once I've seen something that I want, I stick to it. Which is why I'm pushing this field trip so badly, so I can finally kiss you.
Can we still call it a field trip if we leave the other Warblers home?
New email from Kurt. Read.
Dear Kurt,
I am free Wednesday. Disney marathon for two?
Muchas Smooches,
Backspace
Yours until the Hunchback of Notre Dame finds a chiropractor,
Backspace
Yours until George is no longer curious,
Blaine
(P.S. Nana appreciates the compliments. She also said to slap him for talking with his mouth full.)