Disclaimer: I don't own anything at all! Nada! Seriously . . .
A/N: Many apologies or not updating in forever. I have just had a lot going on and I sort of had *gasp* writer's block! Yes, it's true . . . sad, ain't it?
Chapter Five-What an Embarrassing Situation . . .
"What?" Frasier blinked at Louis.
"I said that I never wanted to be like you," repeated Louis, giving Frasier a look that was filled with both pity and annoyance. "What the hell ever gave you that idea?" he asked, his face now wiped of pity, and filled with compete exasperation.
"Well, uhh . . ." Frasier mumbled, rubbing at his temple. "It's just, you know, the common frequency that you and I have always had ever since high school."
"Such as . . ." said Louis, gesturing for Frasier to continue.
"First of all, our grades were always exactly the same," began Frasier, crossing his arms.
"Of course they were," replied Louis, rolling his eyes. "We studied together every day, did our homework together, even had the same classes. Now that I think about it, we spent way too much time together."
"Alright, then could you give me an explanation as to how we always liked the same girls, hmm? Which reminds me, what about the similarity in the names between my ex-wife Lilith and your wife Lillian?" asked Frasier, cocking an eyebrow at Louis. "Well?" he added, with a small smirk.
"Frasier, there were about five girls in our entire class. We were bound to like the same girls, especially since two out of the five were actually intelligent . . ." he trailed off, shaking his head. "Why did they ever let Tanya Whitman into our class? She spent the entire period popping her gum and painting her nails."
Frasier shrugged his shoulders. "Well, as it turned out, she became an X-Ray technician, so go figure." He paused, going back to his argument with Louis. "But then why did you always have the same lunch that I did?" he asked. "And don't say that it was because we bought our lunches from school. I distinctly remember bringing my lunch in one of those small brown paper bags."
"First of all, your bag wasn't a 'small brown paper bag.' It was a large zip-lock container. I know that for a fact, because you believed that paper bags contained about, what was it you said? Oh yes, about sixty five billion follicles of dirt and germs." He held back a chuckle.
Frasier glared at him for a second before inhaling deeply and responding: "That is not the point, Lou, err, Louis." He cleared his throat. "The point is, as you may not remember, considering that you do not even recall wanting to be me (not that I blame you, of course, I was a very wonderful child), nevertheless, the point remains that we were discussing our unusual and, in my opinion, planned similarities."
Louis stared at Frasier, his mouth agape. "Frasier, are you kidding me?" he retorted, narrowing his eyes and slowly shaking his head. "The reason we were such good friends in high school was because of how alike we were. Did that even cross your mind? I mean, okay, so we happened to have the same lunches, and we coincidentally had crushes on the same girls, and it just so happened that our wives had names that began with the same letter . . ."
Louis rolled his eyes. "Frasier," he began again, sighing heavily, "I really was hoping that I'd see you here, but now I'm a little . . . skeptical about talking to you anymore, in fear that I will be accused of naming my child after yours, or something." He grimaced slightly and began to turn around and walk away.
"Well, actually there is a similarity between their names!" Frasier shouted at Louis's back. "My son's name is Frederick! Frederick!" he shouted again. He looked around at all of the faces staring at him in shock. He laughed nervously, giving everyone a half-wave. "Excuse me," he coughed, slumping over and shuffling towards his brother, who was standing near the punch bowl.
"Hello Frasier," greeted Niles, sliding his handkerchief over the rim of the small paper cup and taking a sip of punch. "How'd it go with Lou?"
"Well, first of all, it's 'Louis' now," commented Frasier.
"Oh, well, that's always better. How about his independence? Did he grasp it immediately or did you have to convince him? I did hear you cry out something as he walked away from you."
Frasier clicked his teeth together. "Well . . ." he trailed off, moving his mouth without saying anything.
Niles sat his cup down, giving his older brother a strange look. "What's wrong?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, it seems that . . . Lou-Louis, umm, never wanted to, you know . . ."
"What?" Niles began to understand, as a smile began to appear on his face.
". . . never wanted to . . . be me," he finished, looking up at the ceiling; the dots from the disco ball were slowly gliding across the ceiling. Frasier's eyes slipped from the dots to the juke-box, where Louis was talking to a woman, his face a pure expression of utter resentment. Frasier saw Louis mouth the words "Can you believe it?"
Frasier's eyes glided back to his brother. Niles was obviously trying to hold in his laughter. "Oh," said Niles, after a moment of silence. "He never wanted to . . . be you. Huh." Niles's face broke into a large grin. "That's interesting," he added, bursting into laughter. He had to hold onto Frasier's arm in order to stay upright.
Frasier looked down at his brother, his eyes narrowed. Niles stood back upright, still caught in a fit of giggles.
"Hey boys, what's up?" asked Martin, as he walked up to his sons, a beer bottle in his hand.
"Dad . . . Dad . . . you've gotta listen to this," remarked Niles, in-between chuckles. "It turns out that Lou (who goes by 'Louis' now) never wanted to be Frasier; it was all a mistake!"
Martin's face went into the same expression that Niles had had before, when he was attempting to hold in the laughter. "Oh really?" asked Martin. "Well son, I'm sorry."
"Oh Dad," stated Niles, "don't worry; just laugh!"
"Okay." Martin and Niles erupted in laughter, leaving Frasier to stand there at the punch bowl, looking distraught.
"When you two are finished, I'll be over at the juke-box waiting to go home." Frasier pushed past his brother and father and strolled over to the juke-box. He leaned against it, listening to Joan Jett's song "I Love Rock and Roll."
I love rock and roll
So put another dime in the juke-box, baby!
I love rock and roll
So come on, take some time and dance with me!
"Hey, aren't you Frasier Crane?" A female voice cut through the music, snapping Frasier out of his trance of self-misery and embarrassment. He looked to his right; a petit brunette woman with black, thin-rimmed glasses was standing before him.
"Why yes, I am," he replied, smiling down at her.
"It's me, Brianna Volk. Remember? From Geometry? I always had trouble drawing a perfect circle and Mr. Walker would yell at me . . ." She smiled at him, running a hand through her brown hair.
"Oh right! Didn't we go to the Freshmen Dance together?" he asked.
"Yeah, that was me." She paused looking around the room. "Was that Louis Umberge you were talking to earlier?"
Frasier felt his face begin to burn, and he silently prayed that it was dark enough that Brianna couldn't see it. "Umm, yes."
"You know, I remember that you two were inseparable back then. How's he been?"
"He's been . . . okay, I guess. We haven't been in touch lately."
"Oh, well, anyways . . . you know, I used to have a little crush on you when I was sixteen." She smiled again, taking a sip of punch. "You always seemed so nice, so smart, so humble-"
"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen!" A loud voice boomed over the speakers, and Frasier immediately recognized the voice as Louis's. "I have an announcement!"
"Oh no," moaned Frasier, rubbing at his temple while everyone turned their heads towards the stage. Louis was on the stage, holding a wireless microphone.
"I just thought that I would inform all of you that one of my classmates, your classmate, is a self-centered, egotistical schmuck."
Frasier's eyes widened. "Who do you think he's talking about?" asked Brianna, glancing over her shoulder at him.
"I don't know," lied Frasier, shrugging his shoulders.
"And that man is none other than . . . Frasier Crane!" he finished, pointing directly at Frasier. Everyone's eyes turned toward Frasier, some confused, others appeared to be relieved that Louis was not talking about them.
"How is he egotistical, you may ask," continued Louis, pacing around the stage. "Well Frasier seemed to believe that he was such a 'wonderful child' that I wanted desperately to be just like him. No, that I wanted to be him."
Gasps and groans erupted from the crowd, and Brianna gave Frasier a look of disgust. "Is that true?" she hissed. "You thought he wanted to be you? How arrogant can you be?" She turned on her heel and walked away from him.
Frasier stared in horror at Louis as he continued to rant about his and Frasier's earlier conversation. He never heard Brianna's questions, but he knew that she had walked away.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Niles hurry up to him and grasp his arm. "Frasier!" he whispered, pulling on his older brother's arm. "I think we should go before a mob forms!"
"Uh, right, okay," murmured Frasier, allowing Niles to pull him through the crowd and out the doors and into the parking lot. Martin, Daphne, and Roz were all standing by the curb.
"Frasier, I'm sorry that you had a bad time, but that was great!" squealed Roz, smiling. Frasier gave her a pained look. "Not the face that you got embarrassed, but that I got over fifteen guys' numbers!"
"Right, well, I guess that Louis and I really are different. A lot different," said Frasier, walking towards the car." He turned towards his brother. "So Niles, how was your night?"
"I'd have to say that your embarrassment was the most enjoyable of my night. The rest was filled with threats, stolen food, and men hitting on my wife." He shook his head in disgust. "And you didn't even stop them," he added, looking at Daphne.
"Well, in my defense, they were very cute," she replied, crossing her arms.
"Oh, okay then," he replied, sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
As they loaded into the car, someone tapped on Frasier's window. Frasier rolled down the window and looked into the face of a middle-aged woman. "Hi, I'm Lillian, Louis's wife. I would just like to tell you that . . ."
She leaned in closely. "Louis has a picture of the two of you taped to his wall in his office. You are his role model; he was just embarrassed that you found out about it." She smiled at him. "So don't worry, he had some of that punch on the far-back table, you know, the punch loaded with . . ." She paused, nodding. "Okay, I'm going to go. Bye."
Lillian backed away from the car and strolled back to the high school. "Well," Frasier stated, looking around at everyone in the car. "Isn't that interesting?"
"Okay, fine, you were right, we were wrong to laugh, blah, blah, blah . . . can we go now?" asked Roz, slumping down in her seat.
"Sure." Frasier started the car and pulled out.
"Now, about that punch," said Niles as they drove down the road. "What did Lillian mean about it being loaded with something? I had about three cups of it, and . . ." He paused, rubbing his forehead. "Whoa, head rush."
His head slumped over onto Daphne's shoulder. "Is he going to be alright?" asked Daphne, patting Niles on the head.
"Oh he'll be fine. He just needs some aspirin and . . . not to eat dairy for a few days," replied Martin.
As Frasier drove down the road, he thought about what Lillian had said. 'I'm Louis's role model,' he thought, proudly. 'Wow, I'd better be careful about what I do; all my decisions are affecting him as well as me. Not that I make bad decisions or anything . . . I mean . . .'
*Finis*
A/N: Yea! It's finished! Finally! Now please review! Merci!