Scrooge You.
AN: I had chocolate milk today. Which is really weird, because I hate chocolate milk with a passion. It's yucky to the EXTREME. But for some reason, it tasted really good. Maybe because it was Ovaltine instead of Hershey's syrup? Hm…I'll have to ponder that. Oh, yeah, none of that had anything to do with the story. I just felt like bringing it up. Cuz it was weird. Really weird.
Haha, this might be off a bit but… :clears throat, It's just a jump to the left, and then a step to the right. Put your hands on your hips, and bend your knees in tight. But it's the pelvic thrust that drives them insane; let's do the time warp again! Disco-Dancing, you are my hero.
Act Five: Aura's Melodrama is Effectively Ruined.
Lambert quickly surveyed his new surroundings, starting to get used to the constant interruptions that the continuous scene-shifting provided. Although he really wished that they had stayed for the Electric Slide, it was one of his favorites.
They were at an office of some kind, and a younger Lambert sat hunched over a computer, frantically clicking away at links. There was only one desk, and on that desk there were copious amounts of fabric and thread arranged neatly and color-coordinated.
"Do you remember this Christmas?" Serena asked him, inwardly laughing manically. Serena had chosen the most sappiest, heart-wrenchingest Christmas for last, trying to get him to have that damn moment of humanity she had been striving for throughout the last few chapters. This was the crème de la crème of horrible Christmases, this one would surely stir up hurtful memories and make Lambert see the error of his ways, oh yes, this one was gold.
"Nope, can't say that I do." Lambert said, shrugging.
Damn!
Suddenly, the door to the office opened, and in walked Ursula, burdened with piles and piles of flower-patterned fabric. She inched over to the desk clumsily, desperately trying not to drop any of the cloth. She dumped the flower cloth on top of the rest of younger Lambert's carefully categorized things, heaving slightly as she slumped against the desk.
Younger Lambert turned around in his wheeley chair, "Um, honey, you know, you really shouldn't put unsorted fabric on top of the sorted fabric."
Ursula looked at him in amazement, "But, you told me to bring this fabric up the twenty flights of stairs, down the hall, to the left, to the right, to the slightly off-right, and then up an additional five flights of stairs to your office to place on this table here!" She said, gesturing grandly to the table of sorted fabric.
Younger Lambert pinched the bridge of his nose, "Hun, you're pretty, but not too bright-"
Ursula's face became very hostile looking.
"-why would I have the unsorted fabric go on the table with the sorted fabric? That's just lunacy."
Ursula grit her teeth, and pointed to the table, "But you clearly said you wanted the fabric on this table, you wrote me an e-mail with a detailed map!" She protested.
Younger Lambert stared at her for a moment, then at the table, then back to her. Suddenly, he smacked his hand against his forehead, "Of course!" He stated, "I forgot that I had changed the tables in a gesture of cruel irony before you came up here." He let out a chuckle, "The table for the unsorted fabric is now moved downstairs, where you first got the fabric. You wouldn't mind bringing it back down, would you hun? Great!" He said, returning to writing his fanfiction.
Ursula stared at him incredulously, "You sonofa-"
"Oh!" Younger Lambert stated, "I'm kind of hungry, could you make me a chicken potpie?" He asked, "Great!" He chirped.
Ursula was livid with pure, festering rage, "You get your own goddamn potpie!" She cried.
Younger Lambert's mouth fell open, "Well there's no need to get sassy-"
"Sassy? SASSY!" She proclaimed throwing her arms up in the air, "You make me do all the work around here! I'm always sorting things, re-sorting things, and then sorting things again for good measure-"
"You can't be too careful with color coordination-" Younger Lambert started.
"-While you sit around here doing nothing but filling out internet surveys and writing stupid fanfictions!" She shrilled.
Younger Lambert grasped his chest, "They are not stupid!"
"Yes they are! Stupid! Stupidstupidstupid! STUPID!"
"I'll have you know that I'm currently writing a slash fic for Harry Potter!" Younger Lambert countered, "That makes it edgy, not stupid!"
Ursula started tugging her hair out by its roots, "Look, Lambert, I'm tired of putting up with your crap! You've become addicted to the computer ever since we got rid of DSL and switched to wireless-"
"Well you must admit that it's much more convenient-" He protested.
"And I'm the one constantly sorting the unsorted fabric!" She finished, throwing her arms up in the air. "Now you've got a choice, Lambert. It's either Fanfiction and internet surveys, or me." She stated, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
Younger Lambert looked at her, then at the computer with its taunting Draco/Harry slash fic, then back to her. There was a soul-crushing silence as younger Lambert reflected on one of the most important decisions of his life.
Ursula simply stood there, waiting.
Younger Lambert cleared his throat, "Now, about that potpie…" He started.
Ursula made an indistinguishable noise that sounded like a train, and knocked over all the assorted fabrics, "You can take your damn potpie and shove it up your-"
Younger Lambert's eyes widened.
"I'm out of here! I so should have listened to my mother and not married evil incarnate, then eloped with a lamer evil incarnate!" She huffed, storming out of the room.
Serena watched the display silently, staring at Ursula as she strode out of the room, and younger Lambert made no move whatsoever to go after her. Her eyes went over to the olderLambert to see him crying.
"Lambert?" She asked, "I know this was really hard to watch, but are you alright?"
The older Lambert wiped his tears on his footy pajamas, "I just wish…"
"Yes?" Serena prodded gently, still hoping for that redeeming moment of humanity.
"I just wish…"
"Yes?"
"I just wish she would have gotten the potpie." He stated.
Serena stared at him, dumbfounded. "That's what you're so worked up about?" She demanded crossly.
He nodded, "It was such a simple request! I mean, they're microwaveable now, it would have only taken her an estimated 3-5 minutes to heat one up-"
"You are a heartless bastard!" Serena screamed, "I've been breaking my back trying to get you to have a moment of redemption and you're SCREWING IT UP!" She hissed.
Lambert waved away her complaints dismissively, "I get it, I get it. I'll give you one of my chicken potpies when we get home."
"THIS ISN'T ABOUT THE POTPIES!" She bellowed, "Oh, that's so it! I'm done with this past Christmas crap, the other Daughters can deal with you." She cried, her dreams crushed.
"Okay, maybe a beef potpie for you-" Lambert started before an all-encompassing light shrouded them.