Chuck v. The Burning Man
Thanks Aardvark7734 – you're the best beta ever! Fans, Aardie endured the torture of betaing this chapter not once, but twice!
Also here's a special shout out to all the Vogon poetry readers from the last chapter: blackcat252, DLK, extreme-stratusfaction, FireFromAbove, jagged1, PMoore, Madje Knotts, NickyR, notorious JMG, Utuu, and Wepdiggy! For their participation, they each got a double scoop on the upcoming goodness. If you'd still like to join in on the fun, check out www . bbc . co .uk / cult / hitchhikers / vogonpoetry / lettergen . shtml. Then post your offering in a review!
Chapter 21 – Roaring Reno – part 3 – Burning Up the Competition
"It's gonna be my lucky day," Pat Riley said expectantly, all decked out in a blue western-style shirt and tan Dickies. After what happened at the Regional Scrabble Tournament in Glendale, Pat had already decided to cut the Pop Rocks and Mylanta out of the pre-match routine. Still a fervent believer in massive amounts of caffeine though, the shemale downed several packs of Vivarin with a Jolt cola chaser. Then, the moppy-headed spaz turned to the tournament boards to study the first-round match-ups.
"Ewwwww!!!" the androgynous one cried out with glee. It was just the rematch Pat had hoped for – one with the new Scrabble super-stud on the block. With a nasal tone, Pat suggestively exclaimed, "Hello, Charles Carmichael."
"A bye for Maury Cheeks," Casey remarked as he and Agent Walker checked out the tournament match-ups. The subject of their mission had drawn 'a bye' for the first round and was nowhere to be found. Chuck wasn't as lucky though – he'd drawn a rematch with the shemale freak of nature Pat Riley.
Just like the Glendale tournament, the plan called for Casey to monitor the tournament floor and watch for Maury Cheeks while Sarah would run surveillance and ensure that Chuck did well enough to stay in the competition until they found Cheeks. Before the agents left for their respective assignments, Casey grabbed his partner's elbow and took her aside.
"Walker, what were you doing up there in Bartowski's room?" The Major wanted to make sure that things stayed 'professional' on this mission, especially in light of the General's recent visit and request to review the surveillance footage of the spy-crossed lovers. Casey knew that nothing good could come from the General's intrusive eye on the situation and he intended to ensure that both of Beckman's eyes stayed in Washington, D.C. for as long as possible.
"Relax Casey. Everything's fine. Chuck was just telling me about his dad. Ellie wants their father to be in her wedding and Chuck is having a hard time finding him," Sarah responded.
"If he's anything like your dad . . . the happy couple better put all their gifts under lock and key," Casey ribbed, expecting to get a rise out of the child grifter turned patriot.
"I wish a lock and key would've stopped my dad," she remarked, catching the man her father called 'Cop Face' off-guard.
"Well, he wasn't all that bad in the end. And . . . we did get to freeze all of Sheik Amad's bank accounts," Casey answered matter-of-factly.
Agent Walker's jaw dropped ever so slightly. The straight-laced by-the-book NSA agent couldn't help but smirk at the reaction he'd drawn from his partner.
"Casey, are you saying the ends justify the means?" she asked with a quirked eyebrow.
"Walker, I'm saying that . . ." Casey started, but before he could answer, another voice chimed in.
"I'm here." Casey heard Chuck through his earwig. As the agents separated to their respective posts, the Major heard one more thing from the nerd, "Oh dear God. Not again!"
"Hey, no lip-smacking this time, Chuck!" Casey quipped. The Major just couldn't pass up the golden opportunity to remind Bartowski of the last time he'd given Pat a little mouth-to-mouth.
Pat's chapped lips moved back and forth in anticipation as the new-stud-on-the-Scrabble-block moved toward their game table. As he sat down, Chuck extended his hand to the creepy shemale. "I'm Charles Carmichael, I don't think we were properly introduced in Glendale," he offered while weakly shaking Pat's sticky hand.
"I don't know about that. . . Charles, I think that was the best introduction I've ever had. . . EWWW!!!" Pat exclaimed excitedly with flared nostrils, still holding onto Chuck's hand.
Chuck's eyes widened in horror. Turning his head and covering his mouth with his free hand, he coughed, "Abort mission."
"Negative, the perimeter is secure." Chuck could almost see Casey's smirk from across the ballroom.
"Chuck, you'll be alright. Just see if you can get . . . it . . . to let go of your hand." Sarah said, obviously watching Pat's reaction through the camera in Chuck's eyeglasses.
"I guess we need to sit down," Chuck pointed out in an effort to get the creepy person across the table to let go of his hand. As he pulled back, Pat continued to hold on for dear life, bumping into the game board causing the tiles on the table to shake and rattle in front of the troll. Pat finally relented just as the table started to give way. Chuck quickly moved to steady it with his free hand while at the same time wiping both sides of his emancipated palm on his jeans. He knew that it would take a lot more than that to get the sticky residue of Jolt cola and shemale perspiration off his hand but there was no time for that now. As he feared, Chuck's Scrabble misery had only just begun.
Over the loud speakers, the tournament coordinator cleared his throat. "Hello everyone. Please welcome our guest emcee for this year's tournament – Chuck Woolery!"
The crowd cheered enthusiastically as the game show legend with more plastic surgery than a Mattel factory stumbled on to the stage. With a shiny Vaseline grin, he reached for the microphone at the podium.
"Welcome to Love Connection, where old fashioned romance meets modern day technology. Where you hear all of the intimate *hiccup* details of a first date, and I'm your host Chuck Woolery."
The tournament coordinator's eyes bugged out of his head. He leaned over to Mr. Woolery and whispered in his ear.
"Oops, sorry, *hiccup* wrong game." Chuck Woolery said while failing to cover the microphone with his hand. "Wheel of Fortune?" he muttered to the tournament director.
The director shook his head in dismay.
"Lingo?"
The tournament head cringed, this time slapping his head.
"Wait. I got *hiccup* this." Mr. Woolery turned back to the microphone like the seasoned veteran that he was and mumbled without moving his pearly whites, "I should'a known with this crowd."
Just down below the stage, Pat looked up and asked, "Is Chuck drunk?"
"I wish I were," Bartowski muttered as he heard Casey snort through his earwig.
Just when all sober hope appeared to be lost, the game show legend came through for the room full of uber-nerds. "It's a game you've played all your life, but never quite like this!"
"SCRABBLE!" the crowd shouted enthusiastically and all appeared to be forgiven.
With his duties complete, Mr. Woolery stumbled off the stage, barely missing the bottom step, and falling face forward. As he laid there splayed on the floor, he lifted two crooked fingers and mumbled, "Back in 2 and 2."
The frazzled tournament director looked down at the pile of Woolery on the ground not quite knowing what to do. He rushed over to the microphone and said the only thing that came to mind, "Let the tile laying begin."
Chuck shrugged his shoulders and drew a letter to see who would start his match. He drew a 'B' to Pat's 'I'. Chuck was up first and so he drew six more tiles and began to arrange them on his rack.
. . . . . . . . . . G U N _ B O I L. . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . B I G _ L U N I. . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . B U G _ L O I N. . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . I _ N U L _ B O G. . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . I _ B U N _ L O G. . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . I _ B _ N O _ L U G. . . . . . . . . .
None of these combinations spelled anything appealing. Unlike the last time he was stuck in this position, he was certain this time. Chuck knew exactly what he wanted to say and the things he wanted to ask. If only he could come up with the right combinations to spell it out for the only other person really watching him.
Sarah watched Chuck's hands as he continued to arrange the letters. What was he trying to spell? She couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind. The last time they were in this position, he'd asked her to spell out what she was thinking. She'd told him NOWAY, but deep down she knew he wasn't really asking what she thought. He was asking how she felt about him. Back then she was UNREADY. But what about now?
Her feelings had only grown for him since then. She didn't know whether it was his confession by the fountain or the secrets he was now keeping that had sparked this change. Perhaps it was both his love for her and his lack of trust in her that pushed these feelings to the forefront.
Agent Walker knew better though. This mission wasn't about what she felt or what she wanted. She understood the trappings of her duty to protect him all too well. It was like what Chuck had spelled out back in Glendale, the limits on their relationship he'd effectively summed up in one word – UNFAIR. It was unfair. Unfair that she couldn't be with him in the way that they both wanted. Unfair that he didn't even know how she felt. Unfair that she couldn't even tell him she has feelings for him.
Or could she? The fact that she was even considering doing so told her how far she'd come on this journey. She wasn't worried about being reassigned (even if she should've been). Instead, Sarah was more concerned by Chuck's increasing distance from her, a distance that was due, at least in part, to her inability to tell him how real her feelings were for him.
"Umm. Hmm." Chuck cleared his throat. "I can't believe what I'm …um….seeing." His hands motioned to his rack.
Before noticing what he had spelled out, Sarah responded, "Don't worry Chuck, just stay focused on your tiles, the board, and my voice…" The last part of her advice faded as she realized just exactly what he was saying to her.
. . . . . . . . . . I_B_ L O N G_ U. . . . . . . . . .
You belong to me? "I see," she responded nonchalantly in an attempt not to give away too much verbally. After all, she was speaking on an open comm. channel and nothing got past the other member of their team.
Sarah looked through all the word possibilities on the computer in front of her. What could she spell out to Chuck? Was there even a word available that would tell him how she felt about him? It needed to be one that Casey wouldn't pick up on and yet Chuck would understand. She began to narrow down her options.
Suddenly, the monitors and her network access went down. She checked the feeds in the room, concluding that everything was still in working order. Something else was going on. "Casey, we just lost access to everything except Chuck's cam. Chuck go ahead and play whatever you can while we figure out what's going on. I won't be long."
"This is going to be a long match," Chuck mumbled under his breath while looking down at his t-shirt. Some 'Triumph'. I should've burned this jinxed t-shirt long ago. With his Scrabble super spy sleuth gone, he'd lost his long awaited opportunity to finally learn if she actually felt something for him. Meanwhile, this miserable match was only just beginning. Chuck sighed as he looked at his rack and played the only word he saw.
. . . . . . . . . .L-O-N-G. . . . . . . . . .
The shemale across from him grinned sadistically. Taking advantage of his simple play to start the match, the Scrabble freak showed . . . its . . . feelings.
. . . . . . . . . . I-D-O-L-I-Z-E. . . . . . . . . .
"You don't say?" Chuck muttered. Great, just what I always wanted, to be idolized by a…whatever Pat was. As much as Chuck tried not to think about the freak across the table from him, it was apparent from the looks he was getting through Pat's coke-bottle glasses that his opponent was definitely thinking about another kind of match.
It wasn't the conversation he'd planned on having or with the person he'd hoped to be talking to when the match began. He'd wanted to get through to her while they played, and after their talk in his hotel room earlier he'd really sensed an opening. It could have been just the right opportunity; a beginning for something real between them. The tiles on his rack emulated his desire to…
. . . . . . . . . . B E G I N_U S.. . . . . . . . . .
It was one of the questions he'd hoped to ask Sarah. Could there be something real? Could there even be an 'us'? There was no 'us', Chuck sighed. She wasn't even there and he was on his own.
He knew that he needed to focus on what he was doing. It really was going to be a 'long' match, he thought, as he looked at his original word. Then, while studying his rack, it came to him. There was one thing that he really wanted from her – a sense of…
. . . . . . . . . . B-E-L-O-N-G-I-N-G. . . . . . . . . .
Chuck played the word and drew more tiles.
"Hmm." Pat leered with a raised uni-brow that danced like an inchworm on the shemale's forehead and played:
. . . . . . . . . .F-L-A-M-E-R. . . . . . . . . .
Oh no. It was bad enough that the freak 'idolized' him. Was Pat now 'flaming' for him? I should've never learned CPR, then I wouldn't have been in this predicament…but wait, that's a terrible thought, I wouldn't want anyone male, female, or… shemale to die. Still, could this match get any worse? Chuck couldn't bear to look anymore. He closed his eyes and dropped his head in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. How could Pat think I spelled that word for…
Before he could finish thinking about the hideous notion, he felt something brush up against his leg. Just barely opening his eyes without moving his head, he glanced down at a bobo sneaker attempting to stroke…his…LEG?????
"AHHHH!!!" Chuck jumped back, almost toppling head then heels backward. Barely balancing the teetering chair from its back haunches, he returned it to solid ground but just out of reach of Pat's roaming tentacle of a leg.
He looked at the board to see the word that Pat played:
. . . . . . . . . .A-R-I-A. . . . . . . . . .
Then, the nerd heard what had to be music to his ears. It was better than an aria though, it was a baritone. Through his earwig, the former choirboy of Team Bartowski explained that hotel security had caught another Glendale semi-finalist – Eugene Belford – hacking into the hotel's network in an attempt to get an edge on his competition. It was apparent that the agents had vastly underestimated the cut-throat nature of these semi-professional Scrabble players. Chuck didn't though. He cringed at his desperate opponent who had played footsy with him all in an attempt to distract . . . little Chuck.
"Little did I know Chuck, the lengths…"
Chuck's eyes widened. Her innuendo is able to respond to my thoughts now?
"…you know what, never mind. We don't need all the surveillance. We can make it without the cameras," said the Scrabble spy sleuth of his dreams.
Chuck smirked and then breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Innuendo or not, knowing she was back with him was more than enough. And just like that, he caught himself going back to his original question, the one that lingered in his mind – did she feel something for him? It was a question worth asking. A question worth…pursuing, and so he arranged his question on his rack.
. . . . . . . . . . Q_ P U R S U E. . . . . . . . . .
"Play 'risque' Chuck . . . It'll double your chances . . . I mean your score."
. . . . . . . . . . R-I-S-Q-U-E. . . . . . . . . .
Oh yeah? A mischievous grin crept upon his face at her suggestive response.
His smirk then cracked and fell the moment that the frumpy humpty dumpty across the table from him spoke. "Ewwww! Nice word!" With flaring nostrils, Pat then put down the word:
. . . . . . . . . .E-X-O-T-I-C. . . . . . . . . .
"That's putting it mildly," Chuck muttered, weakly at his androgynous opponent.
"Chuck, forget about . . . whatever that thing is in front of you. Our only motive right now is to win the match. We'll focus on the rest later," the Agent in his ear offered in an attempt to help Chuck focus on the task at hand.
Her pump-up speech worked. Only, Chuck wasn't thinking about winning the match. As he started to arrange the tiles on his rack, he began to think about the rest of Sarah Walker's motives. They…
. . . . . . . . . . A R E _ P U R E. . . . . . . . . .
"Rapture," she answered.
"You don't say?" he muttered softly. So her motives are pure 'rapture'? Chuck gave a half-smirk as his over-active imagination started to take over while he played her word.
. . . . . . . . . .R-A-P-T-U-R-E. . . . . . . . . .
Chuck was still daydreaming about Sarah's 'risque' words of 'rapture' when it came time for him to play again. He'd completely lost track of what the strange creature on the other side of the table was doing, but he didn't care. In fact, he didn't care about anything else other than what the woman of his dreams was spelling out for him one word at a time.
"'Yearn' Chuck, 'yearn' goes with 'rapture.'" So she was 'yearning' now too? He smirked as he played her word.
. . . . . . . . . .Y-E-A-R-N. . . . . . . . . .
Feeling a bit bold, he spoke into his watch as he arranged his next set of tiles, "I'm so on to you."
. . . . . . . . . .H E _ K N O W S . . . . . . . . . .
Sarah sat and stared at the response on his rack that appeared on her monitor.
She looked back at the board with scrunched brows and thought for a moment. He knows what? Sarah's smile fell slightly. She knew that all this Scrabble foreplay was dangerous. They were on a mission and no matter what her feelings were toward Chuck – feelings that 'he knows' about now – she couldn't jeopardize his safety or national security just to act on those feelings.
Still, something within her told her that if she couldn't act on those feelings at least she could spell out what she'd like to do about them. "Play 'KISS,'" she told him and he followed her lead.
. . . . . . . . . .K-I-S-S. . . . . . . . . .
She heard a grunt as the other member of their team piped in, "While he's at it why don't you have him play 'smooch', 'smack', 'french', 'peck', 'pucker up', 'suck face', or 'swap spit?'"
"Very funny Casey," Sarah snapped back. Damn open channel.
"You want to come look at his rack and figure out what to tell Chuck?" she dared knowing that there was no way that he'd switch roles with her.
"Oh no, but I'm sure he'd like to check out your rack," the Major quipped.
"Oh, that's just great," she responded.
"Besides, I think you've got it covered 'Miss Risque Rapture Yearns for a Kiss'. But you're going to have to get in line cause I think the beached whale in front of him has got plans of its own."
"Casey we're on a mission. I'm just trying to keep this professional," she protested.
"What? You mean the world's oldest…"
"Umm, humm." Chuck cleared his throat, bringing the fact that he was still there to the attention of the 'unprofessional' government agents acting more like grade school children.
During the spat, Sarah had failed to notice that the monitor showing Chuck's cam had gone dark and fuzzy. "Great. Now I've lost Chuck."
"Oh don't get your panties in a wad, he's just cleaning his glasses, probably to get a better look at his play date across the table." Casey just wouldn't give up.
"What?" Chuck remarked.
"Look, you're going to make him blow his cover. Unless you've got something productive to add – I suggest that you do your job and find Maury Cheeks. I've got a match to win." Sarah responded, although she really wasn't speaking about the Scrabble.
"Fine. Walker, he's all yours," Casey huffed as he left the ballroom to patrol the perimeter.
Then, all of a sudden she saw his face. With Chuck's knowing smirk, Sarah could tell that he'd heard everything that had just transpired between the agents and apparently had even read between the lines.
"Well at least the view's a little better now," he chuckled as he'd apparently made a big production of cleaning his glasses.
She saw Chuck's lip curl as he silently drew more tiles and arranged them, all the while still holding his glasses in front of him. His smile widened to the point that it was plastered over his entire face.
"You know, I should probably put my glasses back on to make sure that I'm seeing this correctly." She heard him chuckle under his breath. He was enjoying this way too much.
. . . . . . . . . .H O W _ D E N Y . . . . . . . . . .
From the dark surveillance room, Sarah knew that there was no denying it now especially now that Major Pain was distracted. "'Need,'" she said into her microphone. She did need him after all.
. . . . . . . . . .N-E-E-D. . . . . . . . . .
"Oh yeah?" he said as he played her response and then started to arrange his new tiles.
. . . . . . . . . .N N_ T O U C H. . . . . . . . . .
"Oh, so that's what you want?" She smiled. "Maybe we can use that word later. Right now, I think 'enchant' is probably better. You've still got to win this match, right?" she corrected with a smirk. He followed the instructions of his enchanting Scrabble super spy sleuth and placed the word on the board.
. . . . . . . . . .E-N-C-H-A-N-T. . . . . . . . . .
Still enchanted, Chuck looked at the letters left on his rack – O and U. Then he drew the four remaining letters in the bag placing them in succession – V-E-I-L. He smiled. When Charles Carmichael, International Man of Scrabble Misery had begun this match, he hadn't realized that the mystery behind Sarah Walker's feelings would be unveiled before his own eyes.
He needed to tell her something as he began to re-arrange his final six letters. Luckily for him, he was able to spell out the very thing that he'd wanted to say to her all along.
. . . . . . . . . .I _ L O V E _ U. . . . . . . . . ..
"Are you getting this?" He spoke with barely a whisper into his wrist watch. He was taking a risk and he knew it. This was much different than that night at the fountain. He'd not actually come right out and said he loved her that night. His heart raced, pounded even as he waited in silence for anything and then, he got his response.
"Yes."
Sarah paused and thought about what to say next. She knew what he wanted her to say, but speaking those words would definitely trigger a response from the other member of their team who may very well be listening to them. Still, they were behind in the match and based on the letters he had left there was only one play for them to make.
"LOVE," she said. "Chuck, put LOVE right under DEVOTED." Then she added, "It's a triple score. We might have a chance after all."
. . . . . . . . . .L-O-V-E. . . . . . . . . .
"So what are we left with now?" She asked as the camera focused down to the two remaining letters on his rack.
. . . . . . . . . .U _ I . . . . . . . . . .
"Just U and I?" Sarah couldn't help but smile a smile that lit up even the darkest recesses of the pitch black room where she was stationed. She had one final thing to say, "I believe . . . 'in' 'us.'"
Chuck knew what she was saying and spelling. He played his two remaining tiles as he blushed just thinking about the final three words they played – 'love in us'.
As the score was being tallied, Chuck remained off in another land staring at all the words of compassion laying in plain view before him. The answers to the mystery that he had been searching for, were spelled out right in front of this International Man of Scrabble Misery. Regardless of the score, he knew that…
"We won Chuck! We won by 2 points." He heard her say excitedly over his earwig.
"I guess LOVE does triumph over all," he quipped into his 'lucky' t-shirt. Then he added, "I never doubted 'us.'" His gleam transcended the tournament floor as he imagined the angelic soft features of the voice in his ear that got him through this experience and told him something quite unexpected.
"There is no 'us,' Charles." The nasally tone of his opponent snapped him out of his reverie. Chuck blinked deliberately a few times to focus. He noticed Pat sourly pouting with crossed arms. The Scrabble spaz was apparently more than a little sore about the score.
"Wha…" Chuck started but then stopped. He needed to change the subject and fast. He looked around and saw the perfect opening. "Hey, look Chuck Woolery's coming over."
The bumbling game show legend that shared his name had finally picked himself up and stumbled over to their table. Watching the change in Pat's expression, Chuck knew that there was no denying the spaz had quite a thing for the game show legend. In a matter of seconds, the shemale had forgotten all about losing the match. Instead, Pat glared ahead transfixed at a new love connection, but this time the spaz wasn't interested in Chuck . . . Carmichael. No, Pat had moved on to higher scoring tiles.
Apparently, the Bartowski CPR routine was nothing compared to the Woolery that the other Chuck had pulled over the shemale's eyes. And all it took was four words from the hiccuping emcee as he looked at the scrabble board in front of them, "Talk about nerd connection."
[STAY TUNED for the next installment of Chuck v. The Burning Man, where both Sweet Cheeks and dad spill the beans!]
[For this chapter's bit of interactive goodness, who can name the most game shows hosted by Chuck…Woolery that is?]
[A/N: The original version of this chapter got too bogged down in the tile play, so some 'words' were cut for length. If you'd like to see all the words of compassion that were actually played during the match featured here, check out the avatar on my profile page. And yes, Chuck actually did win the match and…the girl.]