Authors Note: We're ba-ack! The Twins of Hazzard would like to apologize
very sincerely for their prolonged absence from fanfiction.net, but there
were reasons--such as excessive amounts of homework from both L and S's
insanely demanding schools, several odd inner conflicts on S's part (S:
don't tell them that! L: Shut Up! I'm rationalizing) and L's mock trial
team taking 6th place in state (S: L, who haven't you told about mock
trial? L: You're just jealous). Yes, life is not kind to two L&O obsessed
fanfic authors. But we still find time to cater to the needs to our
adoring fans, and, as they say, better late than never. But anyway, on to
the fic!
*~*~*
Profaci Saves The Day
*~*~*
Logan Is NOT Big!
--or--
My Left Foot
It had been several days since Mike Logan had dared to leave his small yet oddly well decorated apartment (for a cop anyway) for fear of seeing Handsome Ben clad only in a teddy (or worse, less) outside his door. But his time inside had not been good for him. The several boxes of Earl Gray tea left in the cupboard had worsened the addiction, and Logan was now harboring serious suspicions that his left ankle was now a drug addict as well.
But, regardless of all his troubles, after a week he was forced to leave his apartment, lace doilies and all. He ran out of Earl Gray after three days, every hour consuming more of it than he had the last. By the time the week was out he was waking up in cold sweats, shaking, after nightmares of Handsome Ben wearing his red satin teddy and table-dancing to "I've Had The Time Of My Life" on Lennie's desk at the precinct. Every night he would run to his kitchen and, panicked, raid the cupboards for Earl Grey, but to no avail. So, finally, he left very early on a Saturday morning for Seven Eleven, walking as fast as he could in his condition and hoping that no one--especially Handsome Ben--would see him. What he didn't know was that there was an even greater danger out there, prowling the streets of Manhattan and waiting for his appearance.
Carrie (insert last name, sorry, we don't watch "Sex in the City") had been having a wonderful day before those frantic moments outside of the Seven Eleven. She'd been shopping all day, and had found a beautiful pair of Prada shoes and a Kate Spade handbag that matched perfectly. But still, something was missing.
Big.
There was no way to get around it. She, Carrie (insert last name) missed (insert first name) Big. Life just wasn't complete without him, and ever since he'd gone off to (insert place name) she'd felt empty inside. Which must have explained the great joy she felt at seeing a man that looked very much like Big outside a Seven Eleven at midnight clutching a box of Earl Grey tea.
"Big!" She yelled upon seeing the man, and rushed towards him. "But I thought you were in/at (insert place name) until (insert far off time)!" Carrie made a move to hug the stunned Logan, who jumped back from her as fast as he could.
"But Big," Carrie pouted, "don't you love me?"
"I'm not big." Said Logan. Now a normal Logan would have never uttered such words (we're praying you got the double meaning here) but a drug-addled Logan took a moment to realize the full weight of what he said.
"I mean," Logan sputtered, "well, I am big. Yes, I'm definitely big."
"Big!" Shrieked Carrie as she ran forward and hugged Logan so hard his eyeballs bugged out and he dropped his precious Earl Grey.
"No, no-I meant that-" Logan said desperately, but his words were muffled by the fabric of Carrie (insert last name)'s brand-new Donna Karan top, and she didn't let go until he finally broke free in his desperate attempt to get his tea back.
"Big," Carrie whined. "What's wrong?"
"Look," Logan said, "I need to explain something to you." He looked her straight in the eye and tried to seem as sane and rational as possible, which was difficult with the dark circled under his eyes, the stained sweatpants he had on, and the soggy tea bag in his hair (although he didn't know about the tea bag). "I'm really not Big. I mean, I'm large, but-I'm not Big. I'm definitely large, though. Let's just make that clear."
Carrie furrowed her brow and tried to look thoughtful, which ended up having about the same effect as Serena trying to speak in legalese. "So, Large.are you Big's brother or something?"
"No!" Logan cried, hitting himself on the head with exasperation and coming away with the tea bag. "My name isn't Large, or Big, or any other adjective for that matter. My name is Logan. I'm definitely not Big, but I'm still big." Logan hoped she would understand his explanation, but there didn't really seem to be much hope of that since what he had said didn't even make much sense to him.
"Big!" Carrie shouted gleefully, throwing her arms around him again. "Oh, I knew it was you, even though you said you were going to (insert place name)! Come back to my place and I'll give you a welcome-home present. I bought some new underwear at Victoria's Secret just in case."
Logan had been planning on throwing her to the ground and bolting, with or without his Earl Grey, until he heard the last thing he said. He was sure he had slept with her before (she did fall under the category of "every woman in Manhattan") but sex didn't sound to bad to him at the moment, especially after what he had been through.
"Sex?" he said weakly, finding such good luck almost unbelievable.
"Well, sure, Big," Carrie said sweetly. "It is in the title of the show, after all."
Logan smiled a Logan-smile and ran his hand seductively down her back. "So, baby.what kind of underwear?"
"A red satin teddy."
Suddenly the world began to spin-the pavement, Carrie's carefully made-up face, even the stoned guys sitting at the front of the parking lot as they watched Logan and Carrie with fascination and drank their slurpees. He couldn't seem to find his footing, and it was all he could really do to grab his box of tea and run as fast as he could go on his lifeless left foot. Carrie followed him but her new heels proved as much of an impediment as Logan's tea-addicted foot, and as he had had lots of practice chasing after perps while Lennie came huffing a puffing along behind him, he reached his building just a fraction of a second before she did, slamming the door so hard behind him that her Ralph Lauren pashmnina got caught in it. Sitting in his apartment, greedily cramming handfuls of tea bags into his mouth, he knew that he would have to leave again someday, and when that time came, there was only one place for him to go: the 2-7.
*~*~*
TBC.
Oh, and by the way, we'd like to request at least four super-size 22% butterfat home-grown Kentucky fried reviews before we post again-it'll take us that long to write the next chapter anyway. Holding our chapters ransom has never really worked before, but we'll give you meddling kids one more chance.
*~*~*
Profaci Saves The Day
*~*~*
Logan Is NOT Big!
--or--
My Left Foot
It had been several days since Mike Logan had dared to leave his small yet oddly well decorated apartment (for a cop anyway) for fear of seeing Handsome Ben clad only in a teddy (or worse, less) outside his door. But his time inside had not been good for him. The several boxes of Earl Gray tea left in the cupboard had worsened the addiction, and Logan was now harboring serious suspicions that his left ankle was now a drug addict as well.
But, regardless of all his troubles, after a week he was forced to leave his apartment, lace doilies and all. He ran out of Earl Gray after three days, every hour consuming more of it than he had the last. By the time the week was out he was waking up in cold sweats, shaking, after nightmares of Handsome Ben wearing his red satin teddy and table-dancing to "I've Had The Time Of My Life" on Lennie's desk at the precinct. Every night he would run to his kitchen and, panicked, raid the cupboards for Earl Grey, but to no avail. So, finally, he left very early on a Saturday morning for Seven Eleven, walking as fast as he could in his condition and hoping that no one--especially Handsome Ben--would see him. What he didn't know was that there was an even greater danger out there, prowling the streets of Manhattan and waiting for his appearance.
Carrie (insert last name, sorry, we don't watch "Sex in the City") had been having a wonderful day before those frantic moments outside of the Seven Eleven. She'd been shopping all day, and had found a beautiful pair of Prada shoes and a Kate Spade handbag that matched perfectly. But still, something was missing.
Big.
There was no way to get around it. She, Carrie (insert last name) missed (insert first name) Big. Life just wasn't complete without him, and ever since he'd gone off to (insert place name) she'd felt empty inside. Which must have explained the great joy she felt at seeing a man that looked very much like Big outside a Seven Eleven at midnight clutching a box of Earl Grey tea.
"Big!" She yelled upon seeing the man, and rushed towards him. "But I thought you were in/at (insert place name) until (insert far off time)!" Carrie made a move to hug the stunned Logan, who jumped back from her as fast as he could.
"But Big," Carrie pouted, "don't you love me?"
"I'm not big." Said Logan. Now a normal Logan would have never uttered such words (we're praying you got the double meaning here) but a drug-addled Logan took a moment to realize the full weight of what he said.
"I mean," Logan sputtered, "well, I am big. Yes, I'm definitely big."
"Big!" Shrieked Carrie as she ran forward and hugged Logan so hard his eyeballs bugged out and he dropped his precious Earl Grey.
"No, no-I meant that-" Logan said desperately, but his words were muffled by the fabric of Carrie (insert last name)'s brand-new Donna Karan top, and she didn't let go until he finally broke free in his desperate attempt to get his tea back.
"Big," Carrie whined. "What's wrong?"
"Look," Logan said, "I need to explain something to you." He looked her straight in the eye and tried to seem as sane and rational as possible, which was difficult with the dark circled under his eyes, the stained sweatpants he had on, and the soggy tea bag in his hair (although he didn't know about the tea bag). "I'm really not Big. I mean, I'm large, but-I'm not Big. I'm definitely large, though. Let's just make that clear."
Carrie furrowed her brow and tried to look thoughtful, which ended up having about the same effect as Serena trying to speak in legalese. "So, Large.are you Big's brother or something?"
"No!" Logan cried, hitting himself on the head with exasperation and coming away with the tea bag. "My name isn't Large, or Big, or any other adjective for that matter. My name is Logan. I'm definitely not Big, but I'm still big." Logan hoped she would understand his explanation, but there didn't really seem to be much hope of that since what he had said didn't even make much sense to him.
"Big!" Carrie shouted gleefully, throwing her arms around him again. "Oh, I knew it was you, even though you said you were going to (insert place name)! Come back to my place and I'll give you a welcome-home present. I bought some new underwear at Victoria's Secret just in case."
Logan had been planning on throwing her to the ground and bolting, with or without his Earl Grey, until he heard the last thing he said. He was sure he had slept with her before (she did fall under the category of "every woman in Manhattan") but sex didn't sound to bad to him at the moment, especially after what he had been through.
"Sex?" he said weakly, finding such good luck almost unbelievable.
"Well, sure, Big," Carrie said sweetly. "It is in the title of the show, after all."
Logan smiled a Logan-smile and ran his hand seductively down her back. "So, baby.what kind of underwear?"
"A red satin teddy."
Suddenly the world began to spin-the pavement, Carrie's carefully made-up face, even the stoned guys sitting at the front of the parking lot as they watched Logan and Carrie with fascination and drank their slurpees. He couldn't seem to find his footing, and it was all he could really do to grab his box of tea and run as fast as he could go on his lifeless left foot. Carrie followed him but her new heels proved as much of an impediment as Logan's tea-addicted foot, and as he had had lots of practice chasing after perps while Lennie came huffing a puffing along behind him, he reached his building just a fraction of a second before she did, slamming the door so hard behind him that her Ralph Lauren pashmnina got caught in it. Sitting in his apartment, greedily cramming handfuls of tea bags into his mouth, he knew that he would have to leave again someday, and when that time came, there was only one place for him to go: the 2-7.
*~*~*
TBC.
Oh, and by the way, we'd like to request at least four super-size 22% butterfat home-grown Kentucky fried reviews before we post again-it'll take us that long to write the next chapter anyway. Holding our chapters ransom has never really worked before, but we'll give you meddling kids one more chance.