I do not own Ratched.
I do not own my angel boy Huck. But I love him.
Huck Finnigan Lives Again: A Ratched Fairytale
Huck and Grace and The Lady Who Broke Everything In Her House
She's quite pleasant and gentile.
". . . thank you, no."
This lady who broke everything in her house.
"I'm fine now, dear."
One fine, fair, autumn day.
"Just fine."
When she commenced to methodically remove every dish, plate, cup, and bowl from the large dining room china cabinet . . .
"Actually, I'm more concerned about that young lady over there."
. . . and smash them into a mountainous pile of shard-ed rubble . . .
"The young, pretty one."
. . . right onto the linoleum . . .
"The one that says she's dead."
. . . of her checkered kitchen floor.
"Is she alright?"
Thereby removing any upcoming nightly washups.
"Yes, Mrs. Mulnich."
With finality.
Burying every last crumb and morsel and errant grain of rice from the pantry and Frigidaire . . .
"She's fine."
. . . in a large, rather clumsily dug, hole . . .
"Well, fine as can be, considering."
. . . in the backyard.
"Are you sure, dear? She thinks she's dead."
Scorching and warping all the flatware and cookware almost beyond recognizability . . .
"She's . . . uh . . ."
As well as completely incinerating the brooms and mops and melting the buckets . . .
"She's confused."
. . . in the sitting room fireplace.
"Have you tried telling her she's not dead?"
Dumping all the Borax and Joy and other household cleaners down the drains.
"Yes, Mrs. Mulnich. Every day."
Taken scissors to all the bedding, clothing, napkinware, towels and other sundry cleaning cloths in the entire house.
"Well, that's a pity. No one should walk around thinking they're dead when they're not."
Shredding them into ragged, nigh unusable strips.
"No. They shouldn't."
And, in quite the physical feat, heaved her old heavy duty Singer sewing machine . . .
"Does she think this is Hell, then? Or Heaven?"
. . . down the back stairs in a wall-gouging, metal-mangling mess.
"I think she thinks this is Earth and she's still on it."
Before retiring to the backyard . . .
"On Earth and dead? Like a ghost? Oh that poor poor child."
. . . to lay in the afternoon sun on a lounge chair.
"I'd rather ask about you right now, Mrs. Mulnich. Will you tell me what happened?"
Next to the masserated remains . . .
"Well, I was tired and just wanted to rest, dear. And now I can. Finally."
. . . of the seasonal vegetable garden.
"After all these years."
Putting up her weary dogs.
"Isn't that wonderful?"
Because there was nothing left to do.
"I suppose so. If you do."
"Yes, I do."
And nothing left to do it with.
The only problem is . . .
". . . much as a peep about being unhappy."
. . . her husband, the well-to-do alderman from a few towns over, . . .
". . . wife's on Thorazine, you know, she was feeling out of sorts."
. . . doesn't quite seem to grasp his wife's newfound tranquility . . .
". . . staying with our eldest, I don't know how to keep a house, I have a job, you know, and . . ."
. . . regarding their newly simplified situation.
". . . shock treatments or something?"
Though Huck Finnigan supposes the real solution doesn't necessarily lay in the go-to realm of . . .
"Well, we'll certainly do all we can to help her, ."
. . . antipsychotics and medical acceptable . . .
"Thank you, Nurse Bucket."
. . . torture methods.
"Director Bucket."
"Oh. Yes. Of course."
"So how was your day, Huck?"
"It was fine. How was yours, Grace?"
"It was fine. Same old routine. Would you like some more potatoes?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"Good morning, Mrs. Mulnich. How are you feeling this morning?"
"Good morning, Mr. Finnigan. I'm fine, thank you."
"Did you sleep well?"
"I did."
"We have some breakfast prepared if you would like to eat."
"Oh, that sounds delightful, Mr. Finnigan. Thank you."
"So how was your day, Huck?"
"It was fine. How was yours, Grace?"
"It was fine. Same old routine. Would you like some more green beans?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Mulnich. How are you feeling today?"
"Good afternoon, Mr. Finnigan. I'm fine, thank you."
"Would you like to join some of the others in the solarium? Mrs. Kee is quite the pinochle player."
"That sounds wonderful, Mr. Finnigan. I've never had time to play pinochle before."
He's found The List.
How To Keep Your Husband.
Attached to the inside of the pantry door.
1. Have a delicious dinner ready when he gets home. It's his money that pays the bills and so his preferences should be catered to.
And he's almost offended by some parts.
3. Be cheerful and gay. Listen attentively and don't talk too much.
Completely offended by others.
6. Don't greet him with complaints and worries. Make the evening his.
Bewildered by others.
8. Have his slippers by the fire so they can be warm and ready for him to slip his tired feet into.
And morally outraged . . .
9. A good wife knows her place.
What the hell?!
. . . by the entire thing..
Was it this type of subservient garbage that drove Mrs. Mulnich to destroy everything in her house?
He considers tearing the paper from its taped position on the pantry door.
Decides that would be just as dismissive of Grace's desire to 'be a good wife' as anything else.
And leaves it up.
However . . .
"Huck, have you seen my slippers? I don't see them in the bedroom."
"Oh, uh, yes. They're near the fireplace."
"Why are they there?"
"So they'll be warm and ready for you when you want them."
"Oh. Well. Thank you."
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Mulnich. Care to take a walk outside? It's, uh, nice and sunny."
"Oh, thank you, Mr. Finnigan. Yes, I suppose it would be nice to stretch my legs."
"What are you doing, Huck?"
He grins even as he concentrates on flipping the eggs without breaking the yokes.
"Making breakfast. You like overeasy, right?"
"Yes. But you like sunny-side up."
"Well, I'm branching out."
"Huck?"
"Yes?"
"Is everything alright?"
"Yes. Would you like some bacon?"
"Um, sure. Thank you."
"Hello, Mrs. Mulnich. How are you feeling?"
"Oh, I'm fine, Mr. Finnigan. You're so kind to always check up on me. Thank you."
"It's my job, Mrs. Mulnich. I'm happy to do it."
"Give me your feet, Grace. Let me rub them."
"Pardon?"
"If I was on my feet all day like you, they'd be sore."
"You are on your feet all day like I am."
"Oh. Well . . ."
"So give me your feet too."
"Oh. Well . . ."
Can you believe some of the things on the list? And there's even more!
Thanks to LittleBabyFox, IHeartSPN, DinahRay, and Conbird (Happy Birthday!) for so kindly reviewing the comeback chapter!
