Author's note: Some system or another does not want to support html, so stage directions or whichever are in //'s, word emphasises are in **'s.
Author's feeble request: Please R/R!!!
Disclaimer: Loki, Bartleby, and Metatron were created by Kevin Smith. Ronald McDonald and the entire McDonald's corporation were created by rich men I am not in association with. Gareth and Uli were created by me. Thank you.
R for language
***
Gareth came running onto the set, sending the fake flakes flying. "Cut, cut, cut!" he yelled, waving his hands in the air and dropping his happy-go-lucky demeanor. "What the hell was that all about?"
"What the hell was up with that--that--*clown* dumping snow on my back?" Bartleby sputtered.
"It's not real snow, Bartleby," Loki said softly.
"It itches like fuck!" he complained. "Gareth, what kind of bullshit is this?"
"Call me Mr. Quentin," Gareth said coldly. "I can't believe this, you're going to ruin my career, absolutely *ruin* it..." he began to pace, massaging his temples.
"If I wasn't working with such a crappy premise--"
"McDonald's isn't a crappy premise!" the clown exploded, running his hands through his red curls in frustration. There was a large, flesh-colored mark in the shape of a fist on his left cheek.
"No one gives a flying fuck about your 'service with a smile' bullshit! And that's what it is, bullshit!" Bartleby yelled. "They never give *me* service with a smile when I go there!"
"That's usually because you order your super-size drink done up Irish-style, and everything has to come with an extra empty box," Loki said.
"Would you shut the fuck up?" Bartleby said irritably.
Gareth took a few deep breaths and faced his stars with a fake but pleasant smile. "Listen, sweeties. Ronnie-poo here is a very costly star, and he's kind of a necessity to the commercial." Gareth paused, and winked roguishly. "Unless one of *you* wants to wear the makeup," he drawled.
"Oh, fuck no," Bartleby and Ronald chorused.
"I'll do it," Loki volunteered, but no one had heard him.
"Oh, darling," Gareth said, reaching up and stroking Bartleby's face. "That white makeup will absolutely accentuate your to-*die*-for cheekbones. Now, what's your name again, sweet thing?"
Bartleby stood stock-still for a moment, staring at the director in shock. Finally Gareth withdrew his hand and Bartleby replied, stammering, "Um, Bar-Bartleby. I'm Bartleby, and this is Loki."
"No last names?"
"Uh, no. No."
"Playing the whole Madonna-Cher-Bono one name card, are we? Well, Barty-dear," he said, and Bartleby glared, "if you won't wear the makeup and you won't participate with our clown, I'm going to have to let you go."
"You're *firing* me?" Bartleby said incredulously.
"Yep."
"You're fucking kidding me. I've never been fired from anything!" he said, grabbing Gareth's shoulders and shaking him slightly.
Loki snorted. "Except from a little place called *Heaven*," he said.
Immediately Bartleby dropped the director and turned to his friend. "I thought we agreed not to bring that up again," he said stiffly.
"'We' agreed?"
"Yeah. We agreed that I wouldn't give you shit about your job if you didn't bring up the fact that I got us kicked out of Heaven twice."
Gareth steepled his fingers and his eyes widened in delight. "'Kicked out of Heaven'?" he repeated. "Is that some sort of scandalous sex term? Are you two..." he paused for maximum effect, and outright whispered the word, "*lovers*?"
"NO!" Loki and Bartleby shouted in unison, and stared at each other in mild disgust at the outburst. "We're just longtime friends," Loki said.
Bartleby threw his hands up. "Jesus! Maybe I really *do* come off as gay!"
Over Gareth's shoulder, Ronald McDonald was nodding furiously. Bartleby was enraged. "Why you little face-painted dick..." he growled, and lunged for the kill.
The next few seconds were pure, unadulterated chaos. Bartleby was cursing loudly, arms flailing, straining to beat the crap out of the clown; Loki was clutching at the Gregorian's waist, yelling at him to calm the fuck down; Gareth was squealing through his fingers and dancing on tiptoes; Uli was screaming God-knows-what in Swedish; and Ronald was hurling insults at Bartleby and dancing just out of reach while a cadre of crew members looked on and took bets.
When the proverbial smoke cleared, there was a ton of clown makeup on Bartleby's hands, an unconscious McDonald's mascot being carted off to the hospital, a furious gay director, a pair of fired angels, and a very disappointed Loki sitting on the curb by the studio and crying as Bartleby cursed the entire McDonald's franchise under his breath and Uli taunted them through a window.
Up above, Metatron shook his head ruefully. "Well that's just fabulous. What are we supposed to do now."
***FIN***
Author's feeble request: Please R/R!!!
Disclaimer: Loki, Bartleby, and Metatron were created by Kevin Smith. Ronald McDonald and the entire McDonald's corporation were created by rich men I am not in association with. Gareth and Uli were created by me. Thank you.
R for language
***
Gareth came running onto the set, sending the fake flakes flying. "Cut, cut, cut!" he yelled, waving his hands in the air and dropping his happy-go-lucky demeanor. "What the hell was that all about?"
"What the hell was up with that--that--*clown* dumping snow on my back?" Bartleby sputtered.
"It's not real snow, Bartleby," Loki said softly.
"It itches like fuck!" he complained. "Gareth, what kind of bullshit is this?"
"Call me Mr. Quentin," Gareth said coldly. "I can't believe this, you're going to ruin my career, absolutely *ruin* it..." he began to pace, massaging his temples.
"If I wasn't working with such a crappy premise--"
"McDonald's isn't a crappy premise!" the clown exploded, running his hands through his red curls in frustration. There was a large, flesh-colored mark in the shape of a fist on his left cheek.
"No one gives a flying fuck about your 'service with a smile' bullshit! And that's what it is, bullshit!" Bartleby yelled. "They never give *me* service with a smile when I go there!"
"That's usually because you order your super-size drink done up Irish-style, and everything has to come with an extra empty box," Loki said.
"Would you shut the fuck up?" Bartleby said irritably.
Gareth took a few deep breaths and faced his stars with a fake but pleasant smile. "Listen, sweeties. Ronnie-poo here is a very costly star, and he's kind of a necessity to the commercial." Gareth paused, and winked roguishly. "Unless one of *you* wants to wear the makeup," he drawled.
"Oh, fuck no," Bartleby and Ronald chorused.
"I'll do it," Loki volunteered, but no one had heard him.
"Oh, darling," Gareth said, reaching up and stroking Bartleby's face. "That white makeup will absolutely accentuate your to-*die*-for cheekbones. Now, what's your name again, sweet thing?"
Bartleby stood stock-still for a moment, staring at the director in shock. Finally Gareth withdrew his hand and Bartleby replied, stammering, "Um, Bar-Bartleby. I'm Bartleby, and this is Loki."
"No last names?"
"Uh, no. No."
"Playing the whole Madonna-Cher-Bono one name card, are we? Well, Barty-dear," he said, and Bartleby glared, "if you won't wear the makeup and you won't participate with our clown, I'm going to have to let you go."
"You're *firing* me?" Bartleby said incredulously.
"Yep."
"You're fucking kidding me. I've never been fired from anything!" he said, grabbing Gareth's shoulders and shaking him slightly.
Loki snorted. "Except from a little place called *Heaven*," he said.
Immediately Bartleby dropped the director and turned to his friend. "I thought we agreed not to bring that up again," he said stiffly.
"'We' agreed?"
"Yeah. We agreed that I wouldn't give you shit about your job if you didn't bring up the fact that I got us kicked out of Heaven twice."
Gareth steepled his fingers and his eyes widened in delight. "'Kicked out of Heaven'?" he repeated. "Is that some sort of scandalous sex term? Are you two..." he paused for maximum effect, and outright whispered the word, "*lovers*?"
"NO!" Loki and Bartleby shouted in unison, and stared at each other in mild disgust at the outburst. "We're just longtime friends," Loki said.
Bartleby threw his hands up. "Jesus! Maybe I really *do* come off as gay!"
Over Gareth's shoulder, Ronald McDonald was nodding furiously. Bartleby was enraged. "Why you little face-painted dick..." he growled, and lunged for the kill.
The next few seconds were pure, unadulterated chaos. Bartleby was cursing loudly, arms flailing, straining to beat the crap out of the clown; Loki was clutching at the Gregorian's waist, yelling at him to calm the fuck down; Gareth was squealing through his fingers and dancing on tiptoes; Uli was screaming God-knows-what in Swedish; and Ronald was hurling insults at Bartleby and dancing just out of reach while a cadre of crew members looked on and took bets.
When the proverbial smoke cleared, there was a ton of clown makeup on Bartleby's hands, an unconscious McDonald's mascot being carted off to the hospital, a furious gay director, a pair of fired angels, and a very disappointed Loki sitting on the curb by the studio and crying as Bartleby cursed the entire McDonald's franchise under his breath and Uli taunted them through a window.
Up above, Metatron shook his head ruefully. "Well that's just fabulous. What are we supposed to do now."
***FIN***