AN: One more OS for the "And That's Why" fanfic challenge at Bonesology. For this one, I decided to follow up on one of the first challenges I responded to not long after I started writing fanfiction. You'll find that story as Chapter 2: The Question under "It's Just Lunch." (Link: s/7352978/2/It-s-Just-Lunch) The ladies at Bonesology are really good with these challenges, aren't they? It's always fun to read the stories people can create from just one line.

(Warning: neither Booth nor Brennan appear in this chapter.)

Still reading? Here we go!

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"This might burn a little."

"A little?!" Hissing in pain, the tiny old lady jerked her injured arm out of the EMT's hand. "What are you using, battery acid?"

"Granny, please," Gabby pleaded. "Let the nice man look at the scratch." A slim, petite woman with a choppy mop of dark hair and square, black-rimmed glasses, the resemblance between the two women, even with the disparity in age, was obvious.

"I'm 92 years old," the old woman grumbled at her great-granddaughter. "Don't talk to me like I'm five, Gabriella."

"I'm just trying to -"

"Excuse me?" After exchanging a few words with the departing EMT, a surly police officer intruded into the small changing room at the back of the club. "If I could get a statement?" The heavy bass beat of the music out front vibrated the floor beneath their feet.

"I'll give you a statement!" Granny harrumphed. "That pervert rubbed his stiffy against me! He got what he -"

"No, I didn't - I did not!" The establishment's manager stuck his head in the doorway and sputtered his denial. A light flickering in the narrow hallway picked up the sheen of oil in his slicked-back hair. "I was just trying to -"

"I'm 86 years old!" Granny yelled. "I think I know a stiffy when I feel one!"

Angela nudged Roxie with her shoulder. "I thought she said she was 92?"

Roxie's answer was a confused lift of one slender shoulder.

"You're crazy, lady! Why would I -"

"Pervert!" Granny shouted. She picked up the walking stick leaning against the arm of her hair and brandished it threateningly. "Come near me again and I'll crack your nuts next time!"

"Granny!" Aghast, Gabby tried to intervene again.

"I'm pressing charges!" the manager poked the police officer with one finger. "You hear her? I'm pressing charges!"

"You're the one who needs to be arrested, pervert!" She tried to stand but gave up after several attempts. One hand waived disdainfully in his direction. "Look at him, they only sell suits that shiny at the pervert store. Pervert!"

"I paid $3,000 for this suit!" The insult to his suit was too much to bear.

"Well, that just makes you a stupid pervert." Granny crossed her arms triumphantly as she delivered the insult.

"Oh, God." Gabby covered her eyes with one hand.

"You crazy bi- !"

"Hey!" Roxie raised her voice immediately. "Don't you call her a -"

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP!" The police officer had had enough. "Now," he ground out when the room fell silent. "Who's gonna tell me what happened?" His pen tapped impatiently on the notebook in his hands.

Angela stepped into the beat of silence that followed. "It's all a silly misunderstanding," she said, adding a charming smile to her words. "The four of us," The vague circle she drew covered the four women, "are just having a night out to celebrate their wedding tomorrow." She smiled at Roxie and Gabby. "Sort of a bachelorette party, but very low-key."

The officer grunted as he made notes. "Low-key parties don't involve the police. Who's getting married?"

"We are." Roxie and Gabby spoke at the same time, then gave their names one by one.

"Are the grooms out there, too?" He kept writing.

"No grooms," Roxie answered. "We're marrying each other."

That got his attention again; when he looked up, his eyes went from one to the other.

Thwack!

"Stop thinking about them having sex!" Granny struck him again with the walking stick. "Pervert!"

The officer cursed and hopped on one foot as Roxie and Gabby gasped in shock. Angela turned away and tried not to laugh out loud.

"Granny!" Gabby reached for the cane. "Give me that! You can't keep hitting people!"

"See? See?" The club's manager pointed at the old woman. "See how she is? Arrest her!"

"No!" Gabby pleaded with the officer. "She won't do it again, I promise. Will you, Granny?" The expression on her face warned her great-grandmother that she better agree.

Disgruntled, the silver head turned away. "I guess not, since you took my stick."

"Anyway," Angela fought to continue without bursting into laughter, "we had dinner at the place around the corner, Bella D'Italia -"

"Tony Two Tone got whacked there in '46," Granny interjected. When she noticed the group staring down at her, she shrugged. "What? They repainted."

Roxie hurried to pick up the story. "It was just a whim, really, that we came in here. We didn't plan -"

Granny let out one harsh bark. "You would have thought I'd never seen a strip club before. I was a dancer, you know," she informed the police officer, "back in the 50s." She jeered at the club manager. "That's when we really danced, not like that crap you have out there now."

He stuck out his jaw. "My girls are -"

"Tramps and whores wiggling their ass with no style!" Granny interrupted. Gabby hid her face in Roxie's shoulder. "Plastic tits and a pole don't make you a dancer."

"Granny, please . . . "

"See? Hear that?" The manager yelled and pointed. "That's what she was yelling at my girls! Arrest her!"

"You can't arrest me for telling the truth," she shot back belligerently. "Arrest him! He rubbed his stiffy on my backside!"

"I did not!" The manager's voice was high and shrill. "I was trying to get you to leave -"

"Don't tell me what I felt!" Granny argued. "I'm 75 years old, that's not the first stiffy I've -"

"GRANNY!" Gabby was red with mortification. "Can we just take her home?" she pleaded with the officer. "Please? I promise we'll get right into a cab and go straight home."

He rubbed at his bruised knee. "She doesn't get that cane back until she's out of here," he ordered.

"You're letting her go?" The manager was apoplectic. "After the disturbance she caused! I want her arrested!"

"If I arrest her," the officer warned, "it's going in my report that you felt up an old lady, pal."

"I didn't - she's -" The oily head practically spun on his shoulders. "Never mind," he muttered before he pointed at each of the four women. "You're all banned! I don't want to ever see you in my club again!"

Helped to her feet, standing somewhat tentatively between Roxie and Angela, Granny reached out to Gabby.

"Give me my stick, Gabriella," she demanded querulously. "I'm going to hit him again."

The other three women immediately disabused her of that notion and led her faltering steps out the back door and around to the street. Angela crossed to the curb and flagged down a passing cab.

When they were all seated, Granny in the front next to the driver, Angela's unrestrained laughter filled the space. Roxie soon found herself joining in and finally, even Gabby couldn't help but smile.

Granny turned around. "What's so funny?"

Angela reached over and laid a hand on the old woman's shoulder. "This was the most fun I've had at a bachelorette party in years!"

"Hah." The silver head faced the road again. "You must have some pretty boring friends."

Gabby laid her head on Roxie's shoulder and sighed. "Well, let's face it, we weren't getting in the Weddings & Celebrations section, anyway."

Angela gasped theatrically. "But that would be great! You have to write this up!"

"No, Ange . . ." Roxie shook her head. "This was a disaster. We are not writing it up and submitting it to the New York Times."

"Why not?" Granny turned around again. "It's funnier than that stuffy, yuppie crap they usually print."

"You're joking, right?" Gabby sat up. "I could never -"

"I'll do it, then." Granny sat back and considered. "I'll have to dress it up a little, though, since no one actually got arrested."

"Dress it up?" The three women in the back seat look at each other in wonder.

"Sure." The faded blue eyes narrowed in thought. "The story needs a hook, to get their attention."

"Granny -" Gabby tried to rein in her great-grandmother's enthusiasm.

"I'll mention Bella D'Italia, too. They could use the publicity." The younger women could almost see the wheels turning as the mostly-still sharp mind worked over the idea.

"No, really, Granny." Gabby leaned closer. "Let's just leave it alone -"

"No one can resist a good grandmother-thrown-out-of-a-bar story."

"It was a strip club and you almost got arrested!"

"Exactly!" The wrinkled and creased face broke into a wide smile. "You're a shoe-in, Gabby. I know just how to end it .. . .

And that's why Great Grandma was bounced from the strip club covered in spaghetti with a titanium spork in her mouth."

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"Justified" has been full of Art and his Marshal stiffy lately and I laugh every time I hear it. I couldn't resist a chance to use it myself.

Thanks for reading!

(p.s. To whomever left that intolerant, homophobic review to "Everything is Fine" (anonymously, of course), you may consider this my response. Also, fuck you.)