AU fic. Auteur/Literati/Java Junkie. Looking for inspiration to stand up to his tyrannical mother, Kirk goes online to search for mighty Kirks of the past. And what he finds…my, oh, my.
A/N: I feel kind of bad about the title because it comes from the name of a song by this jazz musician, Gil Scott-Heron. His song was called "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised", and it was about the Black Power Movement, so it's probably not appropriate to use in this situation… but it was just too good to leave behind.
Spoilers: None. This takes place before the important stuff of season 2, i.e., the car accident.
KIRK
It was a normal day in Stars Hollow. Someone might have been thinking about his or her day, but the person didn't think to think about the normalcy level around him or her because it was too normal to be noticed. Wasn't it the strange and out of the ordinary that always got attention?
Everyone in Stars Hollow was normal in the sense that no one did anything out of the ordinary. Of course there must have been something in the water to make everyone as obsessive-compulsive as they seemed… but nevertheless, no one changed. The cheery, quirky townsfolk could always be counted on to be the cheery, quirky townsfolk. Any heightened rate of an outside view of normalcy for the residents of the hamlet would be, quite frankly, abnormal.
One of these people was Kirk Gleason. Kirk was an odd fellow, so odd that calling him by a full name seemed foreign to many. He led a simple life that moved along at moderate tempo in a hope on Blueberry Avenue. He lived with his mother, who was strict and seemingly evil in her constraints. Ever since he was young, Kirk hadn't been able to do all the things that other kids could do. No sleepovers, no going to the mall. He couldn't even play kick the can. Now he was almost 30, and in the same, stagnant situation.
Kirk didn't know what to do about his mother. He loved her very much, but he'd heard stories about the lives of other people his age – all the things they could do. Big boys could have one job, and a girlfriend, and a car. He wanted a car; one that went, VROOM! VROOM! But he wondered: did cars actually go vroom-vroom? When he was younger, he'd made that noise, but he couldn't really know if it was real or not. That's how small his world was.
And besides the car, there were other things: the way she always cut his food into tiny little sections like she was the mama bird and he was still the baby. He couldn't touch the remote to the TV either. He didn't know what would happen if he did. He kind of wanted to find out. He kind of didn't.
He slept with the door open to his room because his mother thought that he still had nightmares of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" video. His room was small, compact, with clouds on the wall, and a brand-new bed: a red race car (When he was really sad, he would say vroom-vroom as his solace). It had replaced the bunk bed from the 80's because he'd gotten too big for it. His mother proudly voted for George W. Bush, and got that tax return. She was happy. She bought her son a bed.
So that was on tally in the column for mother-son bonding. But it wasn't enough. How come Lorelai and Rory had so much fun together? What was it about Lorelai that made her fun? Sure, she was other things (Real pretty, Kirk thought), but she was fun most of all.
Kirk started to think about all the people that liked – loved – Lorelai: Rory, Luke, Miss Patty, Sookie, Morey, Babette…the list was short, but it had the potential to be much longer.
Kirk wondered if maybe his mother could take fun lessons from Lorelai, and then he and his mother would be able to do fun stuff together. He was fine with the rules they had – they were there for a reason, he understood. And his mother understood him sometimes. Sure, she had taken away his roller skates, but then she gave them back. She did keep the skate key, however. They had been her brother's.
The idea of fun lessons became increasingly appealing to Kirk. He was going to approach his mother about it one Sunday afternoon. He'd worked up his nerve: he looked into the mirror in the bathroom, covered in vapor and steam from his shower. He didn't shave, but he put shaving cream on anyway, and hung a towel around his neck. He furrowed his forehead, trying to make himself look tough and angry. He succeeded. He felt the pattern of wrinkles on his forehead; they tickled his fingers.
Kirk growled a mean fierce growl in preparation. One thing that his mother wasn't against was music. She gave Kirk a 50 cent allowance every night to do certain chores: bring her slippers; turn on the porch light; feed the pet mouse. (his name was Kirk, too) Kirk saved his money, and every once in a while, he bought a fresh 12 inch.
He had great records. Journey, Color Me Badd, Aaron Neville, New Kids on the Block – all the classics. He had noticed, however, that none of these records screamed… tough. Nothing screamed: THE REVOLUTION IS NEAR. That's how Kirk felt. That's what he wanted to shout from the damn rooftops.
So he went to Lane Kim.
"I got everything," she said. "You want angry? We have angry." She suggested Joan Jett. Kirk liked it.
"I'll take that one."
"No! I have more! Let me think of more," Lane urged. She offered to make him a mix CD. Kirk said that he didn't have a CD player.
"Oh, well, then. I can't help you. Sorry," she offered lamely.
It was a bad situation. How was Kirk to inspire himself to stand up to his mother, that towering inferno, that great presence, that big, green, frowning Wizard of Oz (figuratively)?
"Can you at least play some music for me so that I can hum the important parts?"
"Are you crazy? I can't let you up into my room!"
"Then how will I be inspired?"
"Watch Oprah."
"She doesn't do much for me."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
They were at an impasse.
"Thanks, anyway," Kirk said, and he left before Mrs. Kim could shoo him away.
Kirk began to feel very silly. Why did he need music to help him be inspired? Why couldn't he muster the strength on his own? He also wondered what would result from him standing up to his mother. Might there be an explosion? Even if there wasn't – what was the point? He had a good life. He had food, water, shelter, and lots of other great stuff. So what was he fighting?
But no – in the back of his mind, he knew something just wasn't right. He was already confined by the boundaries of a small town where change was seen as bad. It would be difficult for him to move out on his own, and everyone would talk for a while. But he wanted a new life; he wanted it very badly.
Suddenly Kirk was struck with an idea. He was Kirk. His name was Kirk, but he wasn't the first. No, there had been many other Kirks in history who had done wonderful, mighty, ground-breaking things, like what he was about to do. He couldn't think of any offhand (aside from Captain Kirk on Star Trek), so he decided to go to the Stars Hollow Public Library. Surely they had a book there about people named Kirk.
The library was a meek, mellow place. There weren't very many books, but that was good: it wouldn't take Kirk as long to find which one was about people like him.
There was one librarian, a pretty young girl named Sarah. Kirk knew that she was new to the place since he'd resigned as librarian just a few weeks earlier. He decided to be bold.
"Hi," he said to her, a little too loudly.
She looked up from her YM startled, then puzzled and then resumed the bored expression that her face had shown moments earlier.
"Hello. Can I help you with something?"
Yes, I'd like to know if you have any books about people named Kirk.
What?
That was a crazy idea! What had he been thinking? Why on earth would there be a book only about people named Kirk? And even if there was… who would read it in this town besides him and his mouse and cat?
Kirk made an inner growling noise to himself. He was really upset. He was having a bad day. And this day was resulting from him trying to change things. Sometimes, good things came from trying to change things. In school he'd learned about all sorts of revolutionaries like Martin Luther King, Jr., and Susan B. Anthony, and George Washington. What he was doing wasn't really in the vein of any of those people, though.
The girl looked up at him expectantly.
"No, I'll be fine. I just want you to know that… you do a great job with this place. I'm proud."
"Thanks," she said. She made a face like she was too good for him to be talking to her.
Kirk nodded at her, and then approached the long desk of computers by the wall farthest from him.
The computers were all on, and he sat at the middle cubicle. He double-clicked the Internet program which opened to a search engine.
"Kirk" he typed.
The response he got was astounding. Who knew that there were so many Kirks out there? But the question was: were they doing great things?
Kirk Franklin – he was a good guy. Kirk read up on him. Kirk Franklin led a gospel choir. That was definitely important – he was a churchgoing kind of guy, and he was innovating the world of secular music.
Kirk continued to look through the pages. There was a guy named Kirk who owned a car dealership. That was good, right? If not for him, the people of Peoria wouldn't have cars.
He came across a saxophonist named Kirk MacDonald. But Kirk couldn't play the saxophone. Man, did that look cool. You got to wear sunglasses, and play smooth music. Kirk sure did love Kenny G. Yeah, that was cool… a saxophonist.
The most impressive Kirk that Kirk came across was a congressman. His name was Mark Kirk, and from Illinois. So what if his last name was Kirk? It was still Kirk.
He continued to scroll down the page, but stopped when he came across something very curious:
"Lol, I loved it when kirk asked out Lorelai!!! that was priceless. u could tell he really liked her. and 'you're the prettiest girl I've seen outside of a dirty magazine.' Hahahahahaha! I was LMAO!!!"
No.
No.
No.
It couldn't be the same Kirk. What was this thing? This… message board? He looked down the page and saw his name plastered everywhere next to the names Rory Gilmore, Lorelai Gilmore, and Gilmore Girls. The last link on the page was this:
"Hey, I'm Angie. I love Gilmore Girls, especially Kirk and Sean Gunn. This is my first fanfic about Kirk, so please R/R."
The page led to something on FanFiction.net. He clicked on the link and what he saw nearly blinded him.