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Disclaimer:
The characters of Methos, Richie Ryan, Connor MacLeod, and Duncan MacLeod belong to DPP. This fan fiction is for entertainment only; there is no profit involved.
LahoffyCDC (Who's kids started school on August 20th!) I'm just lounging around enjoying the peace and quiet of having my house to myself again. Unfortunately, that will only last a couple of hours, laundry does beckon tomorrow. *sigh* MacNairCDC Your laundry "beckons?" That is, like, SO not fair! Mine sits in the corner and growls. Ahh, using several corners as a matter of fact! Yours doesn't try to take on some live form when you've left it there long enough? *g* lahoffyCDC *giggle* Beckons as in using obscene gestures and holding up tiny little signs that read "Wash me". *g* MacNairCDC HA HA HA HA HA! O, okay then. You don't have nice laundry either. (Insert image of two MacLeods, swords drawn, yelling "Back! Back you cotton and polyester fiends!" at the laundry pile.) lahoffyCDC ROFLOL!! Oh dear! First it was cowboy MacLeods rustling kidlets to school, now its "Laundry" MacLeods, ever diligent in the fight against unruly piles of dirty laundry. It's too early in the morning for this hilarity! ConnorM and DuncanM (MacNair) "Whad'yu s'pect is the cause of SO much uncivil behavior in that there laundry, Connor?" drawled Duncan sidelong to the man guarding the doorway. "I s'pect it's that Richie-varment's socks that are the insti-gat-ors of this heah uprising!" "You keep your blade on 'em, whilst I sidle up with the basket..." "Be careful, Duncan! They're outlaws!" Connor waved his katana around threateningly at the pile. "Why don't you grab the Spray-n-Wash and wing the varmints first?" "Good idea! If that doesn't work..." Duncan paused for dramatic effect, laundry basket in both hands, "We'll have to get out the BIG guns!" "The bleach?!" (Having way-y too much fun with this scene in the laundry room!) lahoffyCDC-having way too much fun as well Without warning the aforementioned socks rallied together and stampeded toward Connor. Reacting swiftly, Duncan snatched the Spray-n-Wash and began firing rapidly. It was a blood-bath. Socks fell willy-nilly, crumpling into tiny heaps of dingy cotton, white streaks gleaming through the dirt. But one pair escaped the eagle-eyed MacLeods and scurried from the room. Everyone knows what happens when dirty, renegade socks are on the loose. They create more. HaydenCDC butting in The brave Scots surrounded the pile of quickly multiplying dirty socks determined to make clean men of them. OOPS, clean socks of them. The pile convulsed, grew, and seized the momentum becoming an object reminiscent of a Horta. MacNairCDC "What the--?!" yelped Connor, springing back from the pile. Tentacles appeared, some waving wildly--and some after him! "ITS got eyes!?" "That looks like a shirt belonging to Methos!" shouted back Duncan. He was firing with both bottles of Spray-n-Wash from the hip as if they were six shooters. "The eyes are the buttons." "It figures his clothes would get involved! We're dealing with rebellious young footgrime and 5000 year old sweat, here!" "BLEACH!" ordered Duncan, backing away firing. lahoffyCDC Whistling innocently, Methos ambled around the corner, stopping in amazement at the scene in front of him. "What the-" "METHOS! RUN!" shouted the MacLeods in perfect unison. The ever-growing pile of laundry, sensing a victim within its reach, turned and in a flash, the ancient one was hidden from view by a roiling, grimy, angry pile of whites and delicates. Duncan squeezed desperately on the triggers of both bottles. They were empty. Muffled complaints in various languages issued from the pile. The most vocal being "EEWW!! What's that smell? "CONNOR!! The BLEACH!!" pacemCDC Before Conner could wrestle the blue childproof cap from the bleach bottle Methos surfaced from his polyester prison, arms flailing, desperately trying to stop the onslaught of this new weapon “STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” he screamed, just in time too, as Conner looked up from the blue cap in hand, bottle poised mid-air over the still imprisoned immortal and the wayward laundry. “READ THE LABEL, YOU SHEEP SHAGGING BARBARIAN (thanks to Janne) It says, 'non-chlorine bleach ONLY!!!!'” MacNairCDC “Did you want to be saved, or want to BE saved?” roared back Connor. He whipped one slender stream of bleach across the pile of laundry—which promptly constricted like it had been flayed with a whip. “Glurggle!” protested Methos. He had several sleeves wrapped around his neck and the bleach vs. non-chlorine bleach point was becoming moot. His eyes darted around frantically until he spied some lacy undergarment belonging to a CDC gal in the unruly pile. Holding it up by one free hand, he dandled the racy item before him … and the sleeves unwrapped from his throat and snuck out after their prize! “Quick man!” shouted Duncan … and Methos scrambled from his odious grave just as Connor upended the bottle and SHOOK it! HaydenCDC The pile of laundry heaved at the onslaught of bleach and collapsed briefly at the feet of the immortals. "MacNair's going to be mad about her favorite purple sweater." Duncan groaned. "Sheeza's not going to be happy about her favorite jeans either." exclaimed old lanky butt. "Defending the Clan is the most important thing. The lasses will understand," reasoned the elder Scot. Duncan frowned, "Connor there is something supernatural at foot here. You haven't been practicing that Nakano stuff again have you?" lahoffyCDC Connor glanced sidelong at his kinsman and frowned slightly. "I don't need practice, and I most assuredly would not practice on a pile of laundry if I did." The unruly pile stirred, only to subside once again with the quick application of more bleach. "What else could explain it Connor? You're the only one with a wizard's quickening." The three immortals pondered this question for a moment, eyeing the laundry to make sure it didn't rise up. "Richie's socks need no explanation, Duncan, those things can walk by themselves." MacNairCDC “Looks like the tie-dye look is going to be back in style around here,” muttered Methos. He took a nearby yardstick and fished his shirt with the big buttons out, inspecting it thoughtfully as it hung lifelessly on the tip of the stick. “I think laundry detail is going too long between … details. We almost had an insurrection.” “Whose turn is it to do laundry this month?” asked Duncan. Both Connor and Methos fixed him with a patient stare. “Let me guess—Richie.” “So why’d he leave it until it had enough gaseous molecules to actually achieve a living state?” Connor inquired. “Look at this?” Duncan squatted down near the pile and pulled one l-o-n-g sock out of the mix. It had a mix of dirt and sweat so thick that the sock still retained most of the shape of someone’s foot. “Gym socks.” All immortals present recoiled in horror. “There another one … and one over there!” “And one there, and there … I think we know what’s happened here,” sighed Duncan. “Richie doesn’t change those socks at the gym very often because he thinks they’re lucky. By the time he finally decides to WASH them, they’re on the verge of becoming … ah … something other than gym socks! Then he brings them home—” “—And this time, they were so close to sentient thought that when they mixed with my shirts and then Connor got in range…” added Methos. “No, that just can’t be,” grumbled the elder Scot. “No pile of dirty laundry can simply borrow any of my quickening! That’s preposterous! I’d know it, if it tried.” Methos started humming Don Henley’s “Dirty Laundry” beneath his breath and promptly was elbowed in the ribs. “So, we’re back to ‘what happened here?’” stated Duncan again. And at that moment, Richie Ryan rumbled down the stairway with a soda in one hand and half a bologna sandwich in the other. “Hi guys. What’s so interesting in the laundry?” he called. **************************** ~~~ This laundry saga was never finished. Probably because we all had LAUNDRY to go do! ~~~
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