Judgement Day: The fic draws to a close, but with a bang, of course. You know, it's like a fireworks set. You can't just end it with one of those fwoopy ones, you gotta end it with a really pretty swirly one that makes a lot of noise and makes old people yell that seven is much too late to be being so frivolous and whose idea was it to play with fire in the first place?
Who else is excited for Season 5 DVD? Maybe it is a tad early for such excitement, but since it comes out seven days before my birthday and I am broke, this means good things for me. Did you know that pOnDeReSqUe is being Luke for Halloween? Along with a No Cellphones sign? Can this girl get any cooler? I'm being… the 80's. The big hair and the leg warmers and the weird sweatshirts in all their glory.
I get to go on a wonderful 5-day trip with my school to the Grand Canyon on Sunday. The bus ride? I'm glad you asked. Nine hours long. NINE frickin' hours. How am I going to last that long? I mean, we could've just taken a plane, we live in LA, but noo, that's much too difficult to sort out, plus it scares the parents that we'll get bombed or have a possessed person open the door with his super strength or yell, "I know what happened to your girlfriend!" and we'll all die. I hate paranoia.
The people who asked… Guinevere is pronounced Gwen-ih-veer. My God, isn't that universal knowledge?
We were in class on Wednesday and all of a sudden this weird beepy flashy thingy started beeping and flashing. It was an EARTHQUAKE drill. We had to curl up like little eggs by the baseboard of the wall. I was cracking up hysterically. Then it took me a while to get up from said egg-like position- I am deficient in that area, apparently. Important for future reference, I'm sure. They make us go outside (for fire drills too) and stand in a straight line with the rest of our grade. Straight line, always must be STRAIGHT. I don't understand... if someone leans out, a teacher whirls over and is like, "Get in a straight line! We're trying to count you!" Like if we lean out, we suddenly become invisible and they can't see us to count us? -head tilts slightly- "OH MY GOD! Where is Hanna? We've got a man down! Repeat, we have a man down! This is NOT a drill! Get the fire department in on this! Stat! Stat!" -head centers- "Oh, boy. There she is. We thought we lost you. Stand down, everybody. The raid is off." And they don't let us make noise. Does that distract them too or something? My theory is that they think if we don't move or make noise, the earthquake won't realize we're there, and it'll go away. That's sensible thinking, no? –sigh- Private schools, a waste of money if that's the level of intelligence our faculty has.
Disclaimer: I own… -looks around- Uh… oh my God, where's Gilmore Girls?
Luciously Loined One: That song is really annoying. All my friends sing it, while I am in the background desperately trying to regain sanity by singing Duran Duran songs. I am ignored, though. Ohh, a you and Luke rap duo. I love it. Can some one say MANAGER? I wanna be like the manager in Spinal Tap. Ooh… PSAT's? I just got confirmation! I'm so younger than you! Hand over that Reading is Sexy shirt, you high-school biznatch. I don't know whether I'm Amy or Lorelai. I might be Lorelai, because I do have the specific Lorelai traits of coffee loving, not-being-famous, and the dread of therapist-like soul gushing. Although I do love writing, like Amy, and I am currently wearing a hat. And I have the humor and movie and music obsessedness of them both. Either way, I'm completely awesome. Your Ya is Ya? Sounds like the greatest song ever. That sentence actually amused me too. I looked at it, a long time after I wrote it, and was like, "How can the eyebrow itself be shocked?" But I left it due to its amusement factor. That toothbrush thing is so true, and not off-topic. Nothing is ever off-topic in my little rambling world. Fine, you and Guinevere can be best friends. Thanks a lot for leaving me out. Hey, why don't we just let OPRAH pass us the nuts when we're on her show together?
Lassie Girl: -sigh- Fine, I have to do a normal shout out. You're so oppressive to my creative and free nature. Especially since you spent the whole review telling me how conceited and weird I was, damning me five times, oh my geezing me five times, and doing both in one sentence once (for mentioning Hitler. Crazy dog). Yeah, I love you too, babe. Muffin Is Injured doesn't have the little lines, is what I was trying to say. There's no little lines! Just spaces! I put that word giggled in just to spite you, dearest. Those Friends Forever bracelets really irriate me. (Irritating list!) Poor mean pregnant lady. Oh, now, don't diss 7th graders. We ourselves were 7th graders not so long ago. Tell your sister I'm sorry. Not that I had anything to do with it… although you never know. –creepy villainous laugh sounds as fog swirls around computer. Muffin disappears-
Izz my puppy: Geez. Your review is frightfully long. But it's deceptive, you put TWO entire song lyrics in there. Crazy girl. Ugh, that BOY. You can't trust in them anyway. Your teacher is cooler than mine. My Geometry teacher has a Dawson's Creek poster on his wall. No joke. I remember Keenan and Kel. I used to love All That too but now it's all freaky and ugh. Isn't it weird that the Chelsea Brummet girl was young Lorelai? That hug was awkward. It looked like your little Kirby arms were hugging someone's face sideways. Oh, my God. I googled 'famous bears' to get inspiration for the type of bear you should be and there's an ENTIRE WEBSITE on it. 'Minka's Bear Passion.' Poor Minka. What a loser. Find the website. My God, each type of bear has their own little shpiel! Click on the Care Bears. "Good Luck Bear: The Care Bears' mascot, because he has Lady Luck riding with him." How dirty is that? You're either Funshine, because what kind of a name is that, Grams, because that amuses me, or Tugs, because his icon is a star in a diaper. I remember Tookie Clothespin. At my school, we don't call it PE, we call it… Fitness For Life. Nice, huh? I have to do yoga right now. She made us do this thing where we all wiggle and make all our muscles go soft. She's like, "Make yuh tung go thoft. Thoft, make ewything thoft!" And they all looked like they were spazzing out. She was like, "Become golden and gelatinous!" I was exploding on the floor with laughter. You know, you can't see URLs in reviews or chapters.
Alexiamanda: Woah, that is freaky beyond belief. I love Whose Line, I watched one the other day where Ryan kissed Collin and it was very amusing. Then a lot of shirt-shoes comments were fired back and forth. I love to name inanimate objects. This one is named The Viper, and the other one… well, I named it Compy a really long time ago, and then I was like, what is wrong with you, that is the stupidest name for a computer ever. So now I call him The Artist Formerly Known as Compy. I told my friends that Prince had changed his name to a symbol and they called him The Artist Formerly Known as Prunce, and they didn't BELIEVE me. They are so ill-informed. Yeah, what if you're talking to an invisible person and then it walks away? You'll never know. It could get all its friends and hide somewhere (not that invisible people need to hide) and they'd all laugh at you. I like that Scott thing. I've never heard the expression sweet manna from heaven. You didn't say one thing about my story, did you realize that?
Baby Girl Gellar-Green: Short-tempered? WHAT? You're calling me SHORT-TEMPERED? I have had just QUITE enough of your insolence, missy! (That's me thinking I'm funny.) Three-chapters are bad luck? I guess I'll just have to post 2… ha, which is problematic since this happens to be the third chapter! Deal, babe. I LOVE the pirating one. There's this one we see only when we rent movies in England. "The pirates are out to get you. Don't let them brand you with their mark." And there's all this sweat and hissing and evil guys branding things with devilish laughter. My sister and I are obsessed with it. We play it so many times that it's probably longer than the movie itself. You like saying insert? You have a dirty future.
Leondra: Almost met her match? Excuse me, Lorelai better frickin' step down, because there's a new girl in town who WOAH just made a rhyme. Sorry, very easily distracted. No, it never said her purse was named Glinda anywhere. Can't one improvise? Yeah, watching sex scenes with parents would make them more emotionally scarring. Although I guess it prevents horny teenage boys from getting as much pleasure from it as they normally would. Ohh, I love Dora the Explorer. My friends and I went through a phase in 4th grade where we went around asking everybody what their favorite part was, pausing for the appropriate amount of time, and then saying, "I liked that too."
Michelle my Shell: Jombles, baby. Sorry about your oppressive, non-reviewing life and your Emily-esque mother. You really need to tell me all about the Gilmore event when it happens. Kapish?
Krys33: Stupid stationary review box. The least it could do is dance or something. Even a little shimmy would appease the masses. Yes, I talk to my elevator doors. I named them Clem and Clem, like the brothers with the mothers that were on Lorelai's shoulders. Yeah, it was a Whose Line reference, I love that show so much.
FanOfLOST: I'm going to have to agree with you on Guinevere's coolness. I tried to make a noise that was a combination of a congested hack, a sneeze, a burp, and a snort. I sounded like a dying pig. How do you make a hack sound congested?
beautifulbutterfly: Hmm, your review length is rapidly increasing. I am very proud of you, grasshopper. (Last chapter, you were a monkey. You morph with my fancy.) You will soon be rambling with the best of them, Led Zeppelin. I love Whose Line, I actually quoted it last chapter. Woah, did you just call me chicky baby?
Jennalynn: That's my secret. I'm really 82 years old, and I can barely type due to my arthritis.
JP: Ms Lanahan is the one who rented Luke's old house with the boat in the garage.
Hedge Clippers are the Path to Love
Chapter Three: Metaphorical Shrapnel
Lorelai sat staring at the girl's retreating back, frozen in her seat. "Wow."
"What?" said Rory, seating herself next to Lorelai again with a wad of fresh tissues clutched in her palm.
"Wow," repeated Lorelai calmly. "I said wow, and wow is what I mean. Therefore, I again say, 'Wow.'"
"Wow," repeated Rory, looking at Lorelai.
'Wow," said Lorelai simply, nodding her head.
"Wanna explain the reason for your sudden burst of fondness for that word?"
Lorelai motioned towards the now still door with her head. "Her."
"Your new daughter Guinevere?"
Lorelai nodded. "Not named Guinevere."
"Mom?"
"Not named Mary Poppins either."
"Mom, you're starting to wig me out a little."
Lorelai's head snapped towards Rory. "She's not my father, though. She said she was. She didn't mean it. Maybe she didn't mean anything. The rest could be a lie. Why should I trust her judgment? You know, it's like when you're a kid doing research for a science project, but they'll only let you use certain websites, and never Google because you'll probably end up getting information from a website made by an 11-year-old living in Oregon who says that velocity is a kind of raptor and the Fig Newton guy made up those rules about staying at rest or moving until an outside force is applied."
"Do you need me to call the nice men in the pretty white jackets to take you away?" said Rory soothingly. "They're on speed dial on my cell."
Lorelai sighed and studied a burn mark on her finger from her hair straightener. "No, that's alright."
"Okay, when you give a serious answer to a question like that, that's when I know there's something really wrong. I can deal with Fig Newtons and Mary Poppins, but this isn't you." Rory raised her eyebrows at her mother's lack of response. "Did you and not-Guinevere have a little tiff?"
"A tiff?"
"Yes, a tiff. A little tiffy tiff. Tell me about the tiff in a jiff."
Lorelai groaned. "God, you know how to get me to focus. Using stupid British phrases."
'Works every time," said Rory, satisfied and leaning back in her chair. "Now stay with me or I'll use 'bloody' as an adjective intensifier."
"Please, spare me."
"So…" prodded Rory, her voice lilting.
"So, not-Guinevere over there came over and sat next to me. Never seen her before a day in my life. She just comes up and sits there. And she ends up telling me, right before she leaves, that Luke is in love with me. Audacious or what? It's like the time in 8th grade my mom made me do ballet, and the teacher would ask us to tell us our 'intentions' for the dance was before each dance, and it got so irritating that I typed up a double spaced five-paragraph essay on my intention, laminated it, and put it in a decorated folder and read it aloud to the class. I remember specifically being told how audacious I was and then being demoted to a dancing tree. And this girl just comes in here, drops the bomb, and scarpers."
"You should've been more prepared for that bomb. You knew it was coming."
"Did not!"
"Come on, Mom. Everybody knows about the bomb. Miss Patty knew about the bomb, Babette knew about the bomb, even Kirk knew about the bomb, and you know how behind he is in the times- he's growing out his hair for a mullet to please Lulu."
Lorelai gasped. "They all knew the bomb was being dropped?"
"Not dropped, per se, but they knew of the existence of the bomb."
"I don't think the bomb even exists. It's a fake bomb. You know, it'll tick and tick but no explosion."
"Trust me, there's an explosion."
"Nuh uh! I'd have shrapnel," argued Lorelai.
"I think you do have a little shrapnel," said Rory wisely.
"I'm sorry, I'm lost- where does shrapnel lie in this extended metaphor?"
Rory sighed. "You're impossible. I can't reason with this woman," she declared to the imaginary audience on her left.
"I win. No bomb," said Lorelai gleefully.
"Mom, there is so a bomb. And it's getting ready to go off."
Kirk leapt up from his table, his grilled chicken sandwich almost fully devoured. "A bomb?" He yanked the napkin out of collar. "Don't panic, anybody!" he called in what he thought was a commanding voice. "I know how to deactivate the bomb, it was in a play I did in high school. Does anyone have a small piece of Velcro, about the size of my forefinger?" He received blank stares. "Okay, how about a Simple Minds CD?" Kirk waited and gulped. "We better get out of here." Kirk sped for the door, tripped over Ceaser, Rory's chair, and Babette's purse, and flung himself through the door. "You're goners, all of you!" came his muffled shriek from through the glass as he whirled home in a lopsided sprint.
There was the normal three-seconds of silence that traditionally followed a Kirk spaz attack, and then the diner clanked back to life as people shoveled their food into their mouths and conversation resumed.
"I don't know why you're so eager to deny the bomb's existence."
Lorelai rolled her eyes. "Rory, just drop it. I don't wanna talk about it, and, being the mother, I make the rules."
"Fair enough," said Rory with a shrug. Just then, her pager beeped. "Ooh, it's Lane. I forgot I told her we'd hang out today. Is that okay?"
Lorelai waved her hands dismissively. "Go, hang, be young. I'll sit here, alone, old, and rotting, while you college girls go wild getting drunk at frat parties."
"That's more you than me." Rory stood and grabbed her purse. "Plus, you could deal with the alone thing if you'd just…"
"Chop chop, Rory, get a bloody move on! Cheerio and toodle pip, old bean, I'll see you in a hop, skip, and a jump, me old china."
Rory shook her head. "Gets me every time." She kissed her mom's cheek. "See you tonight at the house."
"I'll be the decaying crone huddled in the corner!" she called back.
Luke had his head in his hands and was pacing around his apartment anxiously. He had no idea why anything that girl had said was making even the slightest impact on him. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was completely out of the blue- it wasn't Miss Patty's daily attempt to push their faces together or Babette's obnoxious comments ringing all over the diner in her irritating accent. "Look at the buns on that man, eh, Lorelai? No butter needed, just take him how it is. He's delicious enough already. Soft and creamy- though not so sure about the soft part, huh, doll?" Insert wheezing laugh. "Definitely not soft, look at the way he's always behind that counter. Hiding something, I betcha. Gotta have an entire counter to hide something that big!"
No. This was a random girl he had never seen before in his life, waltzing up to him smugly and telling him in no uncertain terms that Lorelai liked him and he should ask her out. Just like that! He was speechless. And he couldn't stop pacing. His legs were on autopilot as his brain mirrored his confused movements. It was sudden, it was unexpected, and it threw him off completely.
Lorelai had been swirling the spoon around her cup for so long that there was more coffee on the table than in the cup, and the liquid had gone cold, both of which were big blasphemous no-no's in Lorelai's book. She drummed her fingers on the cold table impatiently, and her eyes narrowed, her mouth curling to one side. Then back. Left, right, left. Her fingers tapped out the beat to "Don't You Forget About Me." She absentmindedly took a sip of her coffee and discreetly spat it back in. She fingered her hair and contemplated how she'd look with a Mohawk. She decided her left pinky fingernail was too long and proceeded to bite it off. Her jeans had a stain on the left pocket. She tried to pick at it, but she'd bitten off all 10 fingernails already.
Suddenly her chair was thrown back with a screech and she stood up defiantly. With a new confidence driving her, she marched up to the counter and, looking around with an air of power, took a donut. And sat back down. And thumped her head on the table a couple of times. The spoon fell out of her coffee cup with a clang and dripped cold coffee on her hair.
The diner watched this fascinating display with awe. She peered around suspiciously with the look of a paranoid old man who thinks he's still fighting in the Vietnam War and locks all his underwear drawers and kitchen cabinets. "What're you lookin' at," she grumbled, ripping a huge chunk out of her donut with her teeth. Bleh, apricot. She finished the bite for dramatic effect and stood and disappeared behind the curtain.
Luke ran a hand across his stubbly face and sighed. How pathetic was he, pacing his tiny apartment and taking the caffeine-inducing ramblings of a teenage girl he didn't even know seriously. Well, no more. He took off his cap, ran his fingers through his hair, and wedged it back on his head firmly, stalking to the door, throwing it open… and colliding with Lorelai.
"Oh, Luke," she said, surprised, taking a step back and smoothing her shirt. "What are you doing here?"
"I live here," he said dryly, cocking one eyebrow.
"Oh. Right." Lorelai mentally smacked herself. Stupid, she hissed. You came up here to talk to him and now you're scaring him away. You've barely said two words to him yet and look at him, standing there, all scared and flannelly and sexy with that little eyebrow and the voice and OY with the internal babbling already and talk to him.
"So, Luke," she started, "where were you off to just now?"
"The diner," he replied patiently.
"The diner. Well, good, the diner, that's a good place to be going. Especially since you run it. I mean, it wouldn't be a bad place to go if you didn't run it because, hi, I don't run it and I'm here everyday. But the fact that you run it makes it even better you're going there. I run an inn, and I'm not there right now, which is possibly a bad thing, but you never know, because Michel hasn't called my cell yet in a panic about napkin rings or anything, so all signs point to a well-run inn, run well without me, not that it's not run well when I'm there or anything, but…" She coughed. "So going to the diner, huh?"
"Yep."
"I was just there," she said, pointing a thumb behind her.
"I noticed."
"Right. Right. Because you were just there too. Because you run it."
Luke took a step towards the steps. "So, if you're…"
Lorelai brushed past him and into the apartment. "Do you have any hedge clippers?"
"Hedge clippers?" said Luke quizzically, surrendering to the inevitable and closing the door behind him.
"Yeah, you know. You clip hedges with them, and I don't have any, and I was wondering if you do." She circled his kitchen table, rapping the wood with her fingers nervously. Internally, she flogged herself. Hedge clippers? Gilmore, you are so losing your touch.
"You don't… have hedges," reminded Luke slowly.
"So?"
"So, if you were going to clip hedges with hedge clippers, wouldn't you need some hedges to clip?"
"Ah, well, that question goes right up there with 'How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?'" quipped Lorelai.
Luke nodded slightly. "Right." They both stood for a moment, Luke by the door and Lorelai leaning on his kitchen table.
"So…" he ventured after a while. "Hedge clippers?"
Lorelai looked up. "Huh?"
"Hedge clippers. You wanted hedge clippers."
"Oh, yeah, right. I did, I did want hedge clippers," said Lorelai, stuttering furiously.
"I might have some buried away in here, but I don't know. I don't really… clip hedges very often," said Luke, striding over to his closet, bending down, and digging through some boxes on the bottom. Lorelai watched him, gnawing on her lip nervously.
"I feel bad, making you go through all this trouble just to get me some stupid hedge clippers," said Lorelai, fear suddenly coursing through her. "I don't really need them."
Luke stood up, brushing some dust off his knees. "Okay, I guess so."
Lorelai studied him. "But, on second thought, they would be pretty damn useful. You know, to clip things with. Especially hedges. I'm sure you could clip other things beside hedges with hedge clippers, but the name does imply that use of the clippers on hedges would be more socially accepted than use of the clippers on some other object that needed clipping." Gilmore, you're on fire. He'll be all over you in a few seconds.
Luke raised his eyebrows at her. "If you say so." He turned back to the closet, searching along the top shelves and finally pulling out some rusty green hedge clippers. "They're pretty old. I haven't used them for a while."
Lorelai smiled too widely. "Thanks, Luke, you're a doll, an absolute doll."
Luke paused. "Don't you want the hedge clippers?"
"Oh, right, right," she said, taking them from him. Now that she had her much sought-after hedge clippers, she had no idea what to do. "Well. Thank you, Luke, for these," she said, waving the hedge clippers at him. She stood there, clutching the hedge clippers with a Stepford smile on her face, unmoving.
"Uh… that's alright." He surveyed her awkward stance warily. "So, unless you desperately need a leaf blower or something, I'll see you downstairs." He began to walk past her, but she grabbed his arm. She was doing this all wrong.
"Wait, I…" Her voice petered out as she stared at him. "Uh…"
"Yeah?"
"Have you ever seen Mary Poppins?" Lorelai suddenly blurted out. Oh, sure. That's exactly what I meant to say.
"Uh, probably a long time ago when I was a kid," he replied cautiously.
"Well. It's a good movie. Dick van Dyke sweeps a chimney and sings. Plus her purse- it has, like, everything in it. Lemme tell ya, I learned everything I know from that woman. She taught me how to get Rory's medicine to go down when she was younger."
"Yeah, that was a song too," said Luke, vaguely remembering and having no idea where Lorelai was taking this.
"I was… I was just noticing that the Black and White and Read was playing it tomorrow night. Coincidence, huh?" She didn't wait for an answer. "So, I was thinking, since we both seem to like it so much, maybe we can watch it tomorrow. Together."
"Together?" said Luke, his brows furrowing.
"Yeah, together. I mean, if we're both there, and sitting within a couple yards of each other, we kind of can't help watching it together. So, we'll both be watching it, near one another, so I guess you could call it watching it together. Sure."
"Uhh…" Luke watched Lorelai's face with curiosity. "Yeah, okay."
"Okay?" said Lorelai.
"Yeah, that sounds good."
"Good," said Lorelai, smiling broadly. "That's good." She nodded a few times, looking away. "Okay. So, uh, I'll come round the diner at, like, 8 or something. It starts at 8:30, but Kirk's been really getting into the whole industry aspect of it and plays about 15 minutes of Trident Gum commercials. We can get some pie or something at the diner first. Not that you'll eat it, even though you made it, which I find slightly weird. Like a practicing what you don't preach bizarre twisted scenario."
"That's okay, I'll just pick you up from your house." He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, rocking on his feet.
Lorelai's smile grew wider. "Oh, okay, even better." She smoothed down the crease she'd made on Luke's flannel clad arm and brushed past him, her hand on the doorknob. "So, I'll see you then, huh?"
"Yes, you will."
Lorelai's smile expanded to her ears and Luke's followed suit. "Okay." She turned the knob. "Remember, it's the last day of the month tomorrow, which is dress up day at the movies."
"Oh, goody," he said dryly.
"Yeah," said Lorelai, nodding sternly. "I'm expecting you to bring a chimney brush."
Luke snorted. "You want me sweeping chimneys during the movie?"
"Not in the theater, Luke," reprimanded Lorelai, shocked. "Mary Poppins is a family movie."
"Ah, geez," sighed Luke. "The way your mind works."
Lorelai flashed him her signature Flirtatious grin. "See you, Luke."
Luke gulped. "Bye, Lorelai." The door closed and he exhaled a huge breath, flopping into his armchair with a sort of wry smirk on his face.
Lorelai stepped out of the diner and practically skipped down the sidewalk, swinging the hedge clippers in her left hand. Ha! She had just asked Luke out on a date. Not gracefully, admittedly, but it was done, and that was that. She was so making an alter for those hedge clippers. Or at least finding some hedges to clip. Did Stars Hollow have hedges? The wind blew her hair back as she increased speed. She turned the corner and hit straight into the girl from that morning.
"You!"
"Promise me one thing," said the girl. "You're naming your first born Guinevere, and that is final." She smiled devilishly. "It's been a pleasure." She looped her thumbs through her jeans and strolled off.
Did you know that équipe de déminage is bomb disposal squad in French? See, these are the things I should be learning, not crap things like "Where is the bathroom?" and "I want a croissant." Ou est la toilet? Je veux un croissant? Non, je ne CARE pas.
Oh, and that story about the ballet and the essay was really me and my idiotic soccer coach. It was a kick (pardon the pun).
So, that is the official end of my extremely AU crazy fic. Hey, can't a girl be experimental once in a while? No dirty intended there. I was slightly doubtful about it at the beginning, but it's grown on me, and now we're very close. We brunch every Thursday.
Can I please not think of a clever way to ask for reviews? It really takes a toll on my fragile psyche. Don't any of you have the presence of mind to review without any persuading on my part?