Title: What Do You Mean, You Didn't Sterilize The Tree?
Rating: strong PG-13. There will be 'thematic elements' later on.
Summary: Monk spends Christmas with Sharona. And some other people...
Disclaimer: I don't own it. There, are you happy now, you monsters?!
*runs off screaming, only to come back and neatly rearrange the rug* What?
I can't have Adrian seeing a messed up rug! That's...that's immoral!
Benji opened the wreathed door, wearing a bright red sweater with 'Merry Christmas' in bold green lettering on the front. His normally sweet face was twisted up into a grimace at the abnormally festive sweater Sharona had made him wear. The sour look quickly faded to horror.
"Great-Aunt Marge! Aunt Gail! I didn't know you were going to be coming here...today..." His voice faded off as his two most disliked relatives stared at him from the rain soaked steps. His eyes widened in fear as Marge stepped forward.
"Young man, where is your mother?" Great-Aunt Marge was every child's nightmare relative. Her blue eye shadow was caked on her lids, penciled eyebrows thin and messily drawn. Carmine lipstick donned her lips, and Benji wasn't sure if any of Mr. Monk's cleaning solutions were strong enough to get it off. Piles of candy floss hair were pinned severely into place on her 65 year old head. A strand of yellowed pearls draped across her neck, clashing with the cream dress she wore so badly. A lethal- looking gatorskin handbag sat in the crook of her elbow.
"She...she's out getting Mr. Monk. She insisted tha..." Benji stuttered.
"Oh God, she's not bringing that nut case over, is she? My God, Sharona just doesn't know when to give up. Monk's hopeless, and besides, Christmas is meant for FAMILY, and he doesn't fit into my family tree, unless a branch got severed." Aunt Gail was just as obnoxious as ever, even though he'd never tell her that. Bright gold curls were pulled back into an elegant twist as a long black, most probably designer, dress clung to her curves.
Great-Aunt Marge simply lifted a shaky eyebrow. "Mr. Monk? I thought he was her boss, not her boyfriend. Why isn't he spending this time with his own family?" Her harsh voice was made scratchy from years as a cigarette smoker in dark little pubs. A sneer only drew attention to her sallow sagging cheeks.
Benji looked down sadly for a moment before staring his family in the eye. "Mr. Monk's wife died seven years ago. That's why he's...the way he is. He doesn't have any other family. Besides, I like Mr. Monk!" Benji took delight in being able to defy his extended relatedonlybyblood family.
Great-Aunt Marge gave another atrocious sneer. "Well, Sharona's real family is here now. I'll size this Mr. Monk up when they get here. When did she leave?" By the time the last question slipped past her lips, Great- Aunt Marge was already barreling into the small apartment.
'Well, this is going to be hellish for poor Monk.' Thought Benji as his aunt threw her belongings in a hapzard heap on the hallway floor. Gail tossed her head and examined the pictures along the walls. "She left about fifteen minutes ago. It might take her a little bit to convince Mr. Monk to come along."
Benji opened the wreathed door, wearing a bright red sweater with 'Merry Christmas' in bold green lettering on the front. His normally sweet face was twisted up into a grimace at the abnormally festive sweater Sharona had made him wear. The sour look quickly faded to horror.
"Great-Aunt Marge! Aunt Gail! I didn't know you were going to be coming here...today..." His voice faded off as his two most disliked relatives stared at him from the rain soaked steps. His eyes widened in fear as Marge stepped forward.
"Young man, where is your mother?" Great-Aunt Marge was every child's nightmare relative. Her blue eye shadow was caked on her lids, penciled eyebrows thin and messily drawn. Carmine lipstick donned her lips, and Benji wasn't sure if any of Mr. Monk's cleaning solutions were strong enough to get it off. Piles of candy floss hair were pinned severely into place on her 65 year old head. A strand of yellowed pearls draped across her neck, clashing with the cream dress she wore so badly. A lethal- looking gatorskin handbag sat in the crook of her elbow.
"She...she's out getting Mr. Monk. She insisted tha..." Benji stuttered.
"Oh God, she's not bringing that nut case over, is she? My God, Sharona just doesn't know when to give up. Monk's hopeless, and besides, Christmas is meant for FAMILY, and he doesn't fit into my family tree, unless a branch got severed." Aunt Gail was just as obnoxious as ever, even though he'd never tell her that. Bright gold curls were pulled back into an elegant twist as a long black, most probably designer, dress clung to her curves.
Great-Aunt Marge simply lifted a shaky eyebrow. "Mr. Monk? I thought he was her boss, not her boyfriend. Why isn't he spending this time with his own family?" Her harsh voice was made scratchy from years as a cigarette smoker in dark little pubs. A sneer only drew attention to her sallow sagging cheeks.
Benji looked down sadly for a moment before staring his family in the eye. "Mr. Monk's wife died seven years ago. That's why he's...the way he is. He doesn't have any other family. Besides, I like Mr. Monk!" Benji took delight in being able to defy his extended relatedonlybyblood family.
Great-Aunt Marge gave another atrocious sneer. "Well, Sharona's real family is here now. I'll size this Mr. Monk up when they get here. When did she leave?" By the time the last question slipped past her lips, Great- Aunt Marge was already barreling into the small apartment.
'Well, this is going to be hellish for poor Monk.' Thought Benji as his aunt threw her belongings in a hapzard heap on the hallway floor. Gail tossed her head and examined the pictures along the walls. "She left about fifteen minutes ago. It might take her a little bit to convince Mr. Monk to come along."