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War of the Roses -- Part 3: Flower Power right, im settling in for a long evening of writing about sylvia plath instead of going out and getting plastered like id rather be doing, so i shall warm up the writing lobe of my brain with the third part of the open-ended flower ficlet series. enjoy :) Steve sneezed. And sneezed again. "Damn you, Brian!" he yelled out, although there was no one around to hear but the dozens of vases of flowers filling his small flat. It was cute at first, he had to admit, to have all these flowers about... that sentiment lasted until he realised just how allergic he was to all things pollen- filled. "Damn damn damn! I'm SO going to get you back!" he vowed as he blew his nose for the umpteenth time. Of course, the question was just /how/ he was going to get Brian back. Seeing as it looked like he'd be holed up in the flat, curled up with a coffee and a blanket on the couch watching shite tv for a few days, he would have plenty of time to dream up just desserts. *ring* *ring* "Hello?" "Hey Bri, it's Steve... Um, what the hell is going on over there?" Brian gestured for Stef to hit the mute button on the tv. "Erm, uh...." "Are you having an orgy without me?" his voice dripped with sarcastic disappointment. "Actually, Stef just came by with this interesting new porn he found..." "Right, scratch that, thank you for not inviting me. Anyway, I just want to let you know that I hate you, and you better watch your pretty little back." "Steve, lovey, what ARE you smoking, and why didn't you ask me over to share?" "I'm allergic to all these fucking flowers, you little twit." "..Oh." Brian was trying very hard -- but without much success -- to keep from laughing. "Oh, why do I even bother?" Steve sighed and hung up. *flick**flick* "Why is it they always save the shite reruns for when youre laid up sick?" Steve asked the wall of his apartment as the umpteenth episode of the Partridge Family began. He groaned and was about to turn the tv off in disgust when he got the kernel of a wonderful idea... an absolutely /wonderful/ idea... if only he could get out of bed to make good on it! **three days later** Steve crept stealthily into Brian's flat, fully aware that its occupant was out trying to score at some club downtown. He slipped over to where Brian kept his guitars, a mad grin plastered across his face. He pulled them out, sat down on the couch, opened his bag and began cackling softly to himself as he commenced enacting his revenge. He finished in just over an hour and slipped out as silently as he entered. Just in time, too -- he spotted a completely soused Brian being led up the stairs by the ever-patient Stefan. He hid behind a potted plastic tree in a nearby alcove and decided to wait and see what happened. He watched Stef fish the keys out of Brian's pocket and open the door. Brian staggered into the flat and flicked on the lights. A piercing, highly effeminate scream ripped the air. Steve doubled over in laughter, trying not to betray himself. "What's wrong, Brian?" "Come... shee.... 's a bashtard!!" Stef stepped in and started laughing. Somebody had covered all of Brian's guitar cases with giant day-glo hippy-style flower stickers -- the really hard-to-remove kind. And by covered, that was COVERED -- there was very little black case showing between the eyesore of the decals. To top it all off -- or add insult to injury, depending on your viewpoint -- somebody had written in large across each flowered case in permanent marker, "MISSY B'S GEE-TAR!" Somebody with Steve's handwriting. "Wow, I didn't think he hated you /THAT/ much," Stef quipped smartly. "Shut up," mumbled Brian as his legs gave way and he fell to the floor. Stef was abuot to see if he was okay when he heard soft snores drifting from Brian's general direction. "Our little princess isn't going to be happy in the morning, is she?" Stef said to himself as he let himself out, locking the door behind him. "No, she's not," said Steve, stepping from behind the tree. The two laughed together as they left the apartment building. Prev | Next Home |