Disclaimer: I still don't own any of the 'Gilmore Girls' characters.
Dishammer: I don't currently own any ham. (I have lots of turkey though...)
Author's Note; It turns out that the mousse was Lorelai's idea...sorry, I don't think these things through in advance, in fact I rarely think at all. I prefer ruminating/cogitating/musing/pondering, you know, anything wistful and non-specific that doesn't necessarily require an intelligible result.
Chapter 2 ~ The Middle
* ~ * ~ * The Inn * ~ * ~ *
Michel led Jackson into the kitchen, 'Sookie, your 'usband has arrived. Please do not let him walk on anything. He is dirty.' Michel glared venomously at Jackson's feet before walking daintily off in another direction.
'Sookie.'
'Shh sweety, I'm sautéing these cheeky little onions. Why are you here?'
'Cheeky onions. Well I brought you some humorous vegetables and, if you're in the mood, some seductive fruits.'
'You know how to please your wife, huh?'
Jackson leaned in to kiss her, but she slapped him, 'not while I am sautéing.'
'So what is this ridiculous...'
Sookie looked at him menacingly.
'...ridiculously fabulous food for?'
'There is a convention of psychologists staying here.'
'What, oh please tell me that you're joking.'
'Nope. And apparently, they love my onions.'
'Okay honey. I'll...um...leave you to it.'
* ~ * ~ * The Gilmore Residence, in Rory's Bedroom...9:07pm * ~ * ~ *
'Wake up honey'
'Mrphmmm, mom, what?'
'Come, on', Lorelai dislodged the mound of blankets covering the Rory shaped lump that was moaning in defiance; 'we have got to get breakfast at Luke's.'
Rory decided that breakfast was worth the unreasonable timing, 'Fine, but you're buying.'
'Don't I always?'
'Well actually...'
'It was rhetorical'
Their winding path involved hefting a mound of unironed washing from the left of the kitchen door, all the way to the right of the kitchen door. In a magnificently executed 'precision stiletto-heel-piercing' the goose-down in a cushion shot upward in a fountain of feathery fluffiness. (he he he alliteration makes me giddy.)
'Ahhhh', Lorelai squealed as she batted the air defending her lipstick from the onslaught that threatened to redefine her "seductive scarlet" as the adhesive required for any good "tarring and feathering procedure", medieval or otherwise.
'Rory, help. Ahhhhh, I'm dying.'
'Mom, you look stupid.'
'This is no time fling derogatory diatribes at your poor ancient..'
'Clinically insane...'
'Loving...'
'Immature...'
'Generous...'
...Rory was chuckling too hard to respond.
They finally exited the building and as they walked they polished their carefully laid plan.
'Chocolate mousse?' Lorelai listed the ingredients.
'Check, with extra chocolaty calories. Real quality.'
'I raised you so well. Anyway, wooden spoon?'
'We don't have any since you flung it at Kirk when he tried to give you a brochure for anger management classes.'
'Anger management classes should not have brochures, they should have grey iron forms with barbed wire and he was asking for it...'
'Indubitably. So I brought an ice-cream scooper instead.'
'Genius.'
'Chilton has that effect. We learn life skills along with obscure Russian Poetry.'
'Golly, they didn't mention that in any of the orientation nights.'
'Inside information. Strictly need to know.'
'Naturally.'
'Naturally. So Mom, what exactly are we doing? Last night you were worryingly vague.'
'Well I figured we would just wing it.'
'That specific huh? So why the chocolate mousse?'
'Chocolate mousse has many interesting and useful facets to its mousiness, and, well, if we don't manage to get the base-ball cap we can wallow in our failure.'
'...And mousse heals all ills.'
'Yup. And it stains fabric like crazy.'
'What?'
'Shushhh daughter. End of lesson this be. Listen well you must, to all that mother teaches.'
'About mousse.'
'Shut up.'
* ~ * ~ * Luke's Diner * ~ * ~ *
Lorelai leaned over towards Rory, the menus shielding her profile, 'Listen, fill the icecream scoop with the mousse and pass it to me under the table...but be careful because...'
'Stain fabric it does, O wise mother. Don't you think holding the menus up and whispering is a bit conspicuous.'
'Nah, Luke wouldn't notice something this subtle. Bright visual aids and loud monosyllabic grunts are they only things that his brain comprehends.'
'Ahhheemm,' Luke decided not to ask, retaliation simply caused headaches.
'Luke. We're not up to something. We're simply concealing ourselves...reapplying our make-up 'cos...that's what innocent ladies do.'
'Yup.'
'Monosyllables. Funny.'
'Yup,' Luke smiled fondly and began picking goose-down out of her hair. He examined every feather closely and neatly piled them on a napkin, 'just in case the goose wants them back from Cruella.'
'Mom, he's not making fun of you, honest.'
'Huh, really? You're mocking me. Both of you.'
A 'Yup' in unison confirmed her suspicions so Lorelai abandoned all reasoning and logic, opened a carton of mousse, and dumped it unceremoniously down Luke's shirt. (Artistic license allows minimal dessert viscosity – hence the dumpability.) Luke just stood there, staring at his shirt in shock. Lorelai grabbed his baseball-cap and ran away as quickly as she could, but not before yelling 'just use soapy water.'
Rory patted Luke on the arm sympathetically and then ran away leaving him shell-shocked. All he could do was meander confusedly to the door and watch Rory scurry away. Miss Patty approached him and remarked, 'Honey, I know you love her, but you can't let her get away with this.' She chuckled before continuing sagely, 'love stains.'
'Like chocolate mousse?'
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Thank you so much to all the reviewers, may your lives be ever merry, may your beards be ever bushy and may your lands be plentiful with goats. Sorry if you guys are disappointed with the length or quality.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Dishammer: I don't currently own any ham. (I have lots of turkey though...)
Author's Note; It turns out that the mousse was Lorelai's idea...sorry, I don't think these things through in advance, in fact I rarely think at all. I prefer ruminating/cogitating/musing/pondering, you know, anything wistful and non-specific that doesn't necessarily require an intelligible result.
Chapter 2 ~ The Middle
* ~ * ~ * The Inn * ~ * ~ *
Michel led Jackson into the kitchen, 'Sookie, your 'usband has arrived. Please do not let him walk on anything. He is dirty.' Michel glared venomously at Jackson's feet before walking daintily off in another direction.
'Sookie.'
'Shh sweety, I'm sautéing these cheeky little onions. Why are you here?'
'Cheeky onions. Well I brought you some humorous vegetables and, if you're in the mood, some seductive fruits.'
'You know how to please your wife, huh?'
Jackson leaned in to kiss her, but she slapped him, 'not while I am sautéing.'
'So what is this ridiculous...'
Sookie looked at him menacingly.
'...ridiculously fabulous food for?'
'There is a convention of psychologists staying here.'
'What, oh please tell me that you're joking.'
'Nope. And apparently, they love my onions.'
'Okay honey. I'll...um...leave you to it.'
* ~ * ~ * The Gilmore Residence, in Rory's Bedroom...9:07pm * ~ * ~ *
'Wake up honey'
'Mrphmmm, mom, what?'
'Come, on', Lorelai dislodged the mound of blankets covering the Rory shaped lump that was moaning in defiance; 'we have got to get breakfast at Luke's.'
Rory decided that breakfast was worth the unreasonable timing, 'Fine, but you're buying.'
'Don't I always?'
'Well actually...'
'It was rhetorical'
Their winding path involved hefting a mound of unironed washing from the left of the kitchen door, all the way to the right of the kitchen door. In a magnificently executed 'precision stiletto-heel-piercing' the goose-down in a cushion shot upward in a fountain of feathery fluffiness. (he he he alliteration makes me giddy.)
'Ahhhh', Lorelai squealed as she batted the air defending her lipstick from the onslaught that threatened to redefine her "seductive scarlet" as the adhesive required for any good "tarring and feathering procedure", medieval or otherwise.
'Rory, help. Ahhhhh, I'm dying.'
'Mom, you look stupid.'
'This is no time fling derogatory diatribes at your poor ancient..'
'Clinically insane...'
'Loving...'
'Immature...'
'Generous...'
...Rory was chuckling too hard to respond.
They finally exited the building and as they walked they polished their carefully laid plan.
'Chocolate mousse?' Lorelai listed the ingredients.
'Check, with extra chocolaty calories. Real quality.'
'I raised you so well. Anyway, wooden spoon?'
'We don't have any since you flung it at Kirk when he tried to give you a brochure for anger management classes.'
'Anger management classes should not have brochures, they should have grey iron forms with barbed wire and he was asking for it...'
'Indubitably. So I brought an ice-cream scooper instead.'
'Genius.'
'Chilton has that effect. We learn life skills along with obscure Russian Poetry.'
'Golly, they didn't mention that in any of the orientation nights.'
'Inside information. Strictly need to know.'
'Naturally.'
'Naturally. So Mom, what exactly are we doing? Last night you were worryingly vague.'
'Well I figured we would just wing it.'
'That specific huh? So why the chocolate mousse?'
'Chocolate mousse has many interesting and useful facets to its mousiness, and, well, if we don't manage to get the base-ball cap we can wallow in our failure.'
'...And mousse heals all ills.'
'Yup. And it stains fabric like crazy.'
'What?'
'Shushhh daughter. End of lesson this be. Listen well you must, to all that mother teaches.'
'About mousse.'
'Shut up.'
* ~ * ~ * Luke's Diner * ~ * ~ *
Lorelai leaned over towards Rory, the menus shielding her profile, 'Listen, fill the icecream scoop with the mousse and pass it to me under the table...but be careful because...'
'Stain fabric it does, O wise mother. Don't you think holding the menus up and whispering is a bit conspicuous.'
'Nah, Luke wouldn't notice something this subtle. Bright visual aids and loud monosyllabic grunts are they only things that his brain comprehends.'
'Ahhheemm,' Luke decided not to ask, retaliation simply caused headaches.
'Luke. We're not up to something. We're simply concealing ourselves...reapplying our make-up 'cos...that's what innocent ladies do.'
'Yup.'
'Monosyllables. Funny.'
'Yup,' Luke smiled fondly and began picking goose-down out of her hair. He examined every feather closely and neatly piled them on a napkin, 'just in case the goose wants them back from Cruella.'
'Mom, he's not making fun of you, honest.'
'Huh, really? You're mocking me. Both of you.'
A 'Yup' in unison confirmed her suspicions so Lorelai abandoned all reasoning and logic, opened a carton of mousse, and dumped it unceremoniously down Luke's shirt. (Artistic license allows minimal dessert viscosity – hence the dumpability.) Luke just stood there, staring at his shirt in shock. Lorelai grabbed his baseball-cap and ran away as quickly as she could, but not before yelling 'just use soapy water.'
Rory patted Luke on the arm sympathetically and then ran away leaving him shell-shocked. All he could do was meander confusedly to the door and watch Rory scurry away. Miss Patty approached him and remarked, 'Honey, I know you love her, but you can't let her get away with this.' She chuckled before continuing sagely, 'love stains.'
'Like chocolate mousse?'
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Thank you so much to all the reviewers, may your lives be ever merry, may your beards be ever bushy and may your lands be plentiful with goats. Sorry if you guys are disappointed with the length or quality.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
