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Post by Pickle on Apr 18, 2008 2:02:44 GMT -5
Challenge for Moko.
Pairing: Sasha/Rick
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just moko’s challenge for semi-crackish paring for me. Oh, and I kind of sort of forget where Karen’s bed is to her parents, if it’s near the back or her parent’s, but who cares?!
It was Karen’s turn to do the laundry. Since the small town of Mineral Town was, indeed, small, everyone shared the same watering hole. But to insure everyone had an equal turn for the resources, everyone had a day for their laundry. Families did their laundry together. Some people shared laundry, such as the Doctor did his laundry the same day Elli did. Just for convince…and what does a doctor know about clothes?
So now it happened to be her and her family’s turned. Karen could not cook to safe her life (in fact, her cooking ended in people with bandages sometimes. BANDAGES!). But lucky for her, laundry was a skill she could do without killing anyone.
A feminine chore she could accomplice. Oh the personal pride.
Happily whistling down the path, thinking of her next creation to cook. A baloney spumoni pepperoni macaroni sundae sounded like such a treat!
The weather, as always, was mild. Snow only appeared one season (everyone‘s cloth got pretty smelly this time of the year but the coldness covered the smell). Convenient!
With a spare basket in hand, holding thirty articles of clothing, Karen whistled the way up to the hot springs. The town used hot water available to them to make everything nice and toasty. Sure, most houses had indoor plumbing and bathroom and bathtubs. But the technology of the washing machine had yet to reach anywhere near the hick town. So where would you go for hot, continuous, running water?
Unless you wished to stay indoors and soak it in a bathtub (such as how Thomas and his son did from time to time), you waited your turn. This would be Karen’s first load.
Now folks maybe asking, how can one accumulate thirty articles of clothing in less then a week? Do not fret, for there is logic. It must be broke down to this. A basic outfit consists of shirt, pants, and socks. Counting the socks as two articles, that is four right there. Then factor in the undergarments; one for males and two for females, that becomes a total of five to six garments minimum a day. Not count matching accessories of hats, scarves, gloves, undershirts, aprons, and those snazzy headbands. Then the sleep ware.
Multiple it by three, and you can understand why people ware the same clothes every damn day. Much cheaper!
So Karen dumped the load of the clothes. Due to the bubbles and natural minerals, the clothes would broil at the time while the dirty-dirt and bodily oils slide out of the fabric. Karen turned behind her. She had several more baskets lined up. Karen’s time would be spent looking in the nearby pond for any traces of the Harvest Goddess. That, or free stuff. People threw crap in there all the time. Logic dictates maybe something interesting or malodorous could wafer back up. People would be surprised that Karen looked for things to float back up. Or that she knew the word ‘malodorous.’
But first…
Karen added some soap in to make it all extra clean. Then she added some bath salts, to keep the color bright. And nobody in her house used the bath salts. Then she added. Then she added the little stick.
Karen looked at the piece of dead nature she threw in with the supposed clean clothing. The order was wrong. Little stick was not on the list.
Out of her vest somewhere, anywhere, she pulled out a note. On the note were detailed directions on his task for the day.
“Step one: Bring Laundry to the Spa.” She read out loud. “Step two: Poor dirty Laundry into the Spa.” Her eyes gaze down. “Step three: Poor soap into the water.” She stared at her soap, nodding. “Poor in bath salt.” She looked at her bag of salt. “Note: Don’t jump inside the spa with the bath salt.” Karen rolls her eyes, mumbling about, ‘mother’ and ‘I’m not that dumb.’ She reads the next part. “Pour in fabric softener.” She gazed at her accessories.
No little bottle of that blue stuff.
Karen frowned. She must have forgotten it. This would not be the first time she forgot clothing. She once forgot a whole basket of laundry, which was embarrassing, since it had all of the unmentionables inside. It was one embarrassing week. Though her father seemed more…loose that week.
Karen debating going back home. There were pros and cons. If she stayed here, she could just be lazy and looking and the pretty pond and play around the pretty pond and possible soak her feet in the pretty pond and throw rocks in the pretty pond. She could tend to the laundry and just hang it up to dry and just remember next time to bring the softener. Like anyone would notice. If she went home, people could call her a ditz again. She was not a ditz. A little bit forgetful and ignorant, sure. But Rick’s little sister was a ditz.
Then again, if Popuri wasn’t like that, who would still love her? Her sweet ditzyness was all she got. That, and the weird pink hair and her chest.
But if she did not add the softening to her clothing soup, she had a sneaky feeling that one of her parents of both would complain about it. Mom liked soft things and Dad always was a sensitive guy.
Then again, sensitive guys were hot.
Parent’s discomfort or pretty pond? She wiggled her fingers, looking back and forth.
Oh phew.
Karen sighed as she walked back home. Unknown to her, she forgot to finish reading the list. Right on the bottom of the list stated loud and clear was, “Remember: Do not leave the laundry unintended.” Karen forgot because she forgot something else and only one forgetful thought could stay under her blond and brown locks.
But nothing could happen…right?
So Karen walked/sauntered/ambled/toddled/advanced to home. She did all the movements at once, yet it happened to be none of these. She could get away with it without destroying the universe because of the bangs. Those bangs balanced it all out.
Anyways, Karen grabbed her key and unlocked the door. It was Tuesday, so the door was usually locked. But anyone could grab the spare hidden above the window if they wanted to. It was locked not to keep out buglers, but people who wanted to shop. Which were more annoying then jugulars. They had the decency to leave.
‘Now,’ Karen thought as she entered the house, ‘if I was fabric softener, where would I be?’ A thought she pondered. This was a serious thought, folks. Because it was not where visible in the shop, so she needed to get into the mind of the liquid. It would not be in the shop, open. Someone may steal it. Could it be hidden somewhere?
Karen looks under the counter. Nope, no fabric softener. She doubted it existed in this room. After all, the fabric softer would be…with the clothing! Logic dictates that they would be where the dirty clothes hung out before they changed back to clean. People would be surprised. Not for her thinking, but that she also knew what dictates meant.
So to the bedroom Karen skipped to. She pulled open the door and figured to check her bed first. She once again skipped merrily, gazing around the kitchen just in case the stuff climbed the counters to get a tan. But unlike the chicken she made three night ago that wanted to be naturally grilled, nothing marred the bare counters. Off to her bedroom she went!
A merry song hummed through her lips. No man would fall for Karen for her home skills, but she clearly made up for her charming looks and equally charming voice. So she happened to be damned proud of it.
Why is this noted?
Because the awful sound she made the next moment did not sound…quite flattering.
There. In bed. People moving. People moving naked. Together. In her parents bed. Man and woman.
Arguably, she walked in on her parented before. It usually happens. And Karen understood the birds and the bees. And she knew that her parents needed to be alone sometimes and these were the perfect nights to stay with Ann or just go get plastered. And by perfect nights, she meant perfect excuse.
But if her parents just messed around in bed, she’d either quietly find that ever allusive fabric softener or just quietly get the hell out of the room and burn her eyeballs to keep the memories of hope. It was a disturbing thing to see, but this happened to be better then seeing the doctor and his nurse playing around in its own way. She could get over it.
The problem was the particular male hovering over her mother happened to have long, blondish-red hair. Yah, that was not her dad.
She should of just ran or something. But when she knew who it was, she swore her optical nerves wanted to badly to strangle each other. And for future reference, Karen knew about the optical nerve. Perhaps not the fact that they couldn’t actually commit suicide, but what mattered right now was that Rick was very much banger her mother.
So Karen did what any logically young female would do in her place.
Extrapolate free-for-all.
“WHAT?!” The image scared in her grey area. It burnt. So bad.
They stopped whatever the hell they were doing. Oh, she knew what they were doing, but it stopped for a moment. They both looked pretty scared. Karen had no idea what she should do. In various flashes, she should be running out of the room screaming, she should grab that sharp knife and precede to do something bad with those knifes, she should make some chirp (where that idea came from even Karen did not know), she should just walk away and drink herself into a dead stupor, she should cry, she should laugh, she should take a deep breath, or quite wonder how a woman of her mother’s age could still bend that way.
But she did none of these. Instead, she just stared.
“Karen! This is not what looks like!” Her mother said. Her mother under Rick. No.
Her body could not handle this. She only screamed again, “OH MY GODDESS!”
Somewhere near where the clothes are, a green-haired woman looks from her place in her pond, “Sorry my child, I would not touch this situation if I moved with waterfalls.” Besides, the Goddess was watching the situation at the Spa. But that’s for later.
Back at the home behind the store, Karen appreciated that now the two in bed merely lied in bed together. Or would have, but you know. THEY ARE STILL NAKED IN BED TOGHETHER. TOO-GEH-THER!
“What…what…” Karen began, trying to get the words right. What words were right in this situation?
Oh look, Rick put his glasses on. Why could they not put on clothes? Though she short of notices the shocked look on Rick’s face. Should she feel better or worst? She really has not idea. No IDEA!
“What!” Karen points between the two of them, not really sure who to yell at or attack first.
“Karen, calm down. This isn’t like, um…” Sasha turns to look at her bed companion. He should give some answers. Since he is a part of this. In bed. With her mother. The thought that it’s not Karen’s bed makes her feel a little better. Only not really.
Rick looks between both women, then he takes a deep breath, all composed, and starts bawling his four-eyes out. “I’m sorry!”
Sasha grabs her forehead.
“What?” Karen pulls at her attractive bangs. How is he sorry? Bed.
Suddenly the door opens and someone calls out, “I’m back!” And Karen has to protect him, because knowing her dead; he’ll throw up his stomach. And that would be bad.
She skids to a halt (which is tricky for someone in boots) and races to block her father from the horrors of it all. “Dad! Don’t! Dammit!” If the man saw, he may die or cough up black bile. She could imagine oil pouring in bucket out of his mouth like the gel (read: shoe polish) used to get Jeff’s hair correct. Her father could not handle it! She would get rid of the evidence!
Though where could she hide it all during this time of the day without Harris finding out?
Jeff seemed surprised to see the Karen in front of there. Of course, she should still be laundrying. Not coming home and seeing her childhood friend with her once-saintly thought mother. In bed.
“Umm…you know how you wanted to show me the books and how to manage the place when you got older and you said it was time for me to learn but maybe I think you were right and I would love to check the books on how the figure out the best price for strawberries and chocolate and cameras so why don’t we just go and discuss the products, okay?” Karen’s logical wins again!
She would have pushed her father away, but the video camera might break.
Wait a minute…
Since when were strawberries in season?
But Sasha also skidded into the kitchen (which again, happened to be tricky since she happened to be bare-foot). Her grandmother’s quilt covering her. Karen’s grandmother! Bedding Rick. Who still cried. In the bed. By himself now. But still in that bed.
“Jeff…um…we need to stop.” Sasha waved her free hand about.
“Yah, you do, because-” Karen started, but realized that the “we” was including her father. Her jaw finally unhinged like the hungry snake. Gaping. Open gaping. “What…” Then she noticed the cheese.
“Are you cracking with Rick, too!” It was not a question, it was an accusation.
Jeff tries to wave his hands and drops a piece of chocolate. “No no no! I just film it.”
And that is when Karen breaks. Figuratively, of course. But it appears even her clothes straighten up. Then stiffly, she walks over to the fridge, pulls out the milk, closes the fringe door, and walks out the room, out of the shop, and head back to the spa.
Why did she grab the milk? Because fabric softener looked a lot like milk, felt a lot like milk, and the farmer told her milk gave a person silky hair and clothes were like hair so in Karen’s logic it made perfect sense. The clothes would be clean and soft and bright and when she got home her mother would not be a slut and Rick would still be a virgin in her head and not bender over her mother’s back and her father would not be a freak for recording the whole thing.
Though if she is ever invited, Manna would have to tell everyone, “And then she took the bottle neck to her own neck.”
Unknown to Karen but known to the Goddess, something happened at the Spa.
It appeared normal at first. All the clothes were there. Karen’s fevers were frayed to just a small slice. So she would just do the rest of the laundry today and go home, have dinner, and try not to send Rick’s head to his chickens.
When she poured the final ingredient for her Laundry stew, something shifted in the water. Karen thought it was a sock disappearing again.
But the water erupted, making Karen drop the milk confidently into the pond behind her.
(The Goddess caught it and starting drinking. The next morning, a certain cow produced X-milk).
Out popped Basil, still in all his clothes and even strange little hat.
Karen shields herself slightly, thinking to throw a basket. “What…the…hell?” And then she starts screaming this about five or nine times. Until her breath ran out.
By now, Basil looks at her with watery eyes. “I struck gold!” He holds up something that looks a lot like a yellow head-band.
Maybe the obscurity of the choice of clothing made her do it. Maybe it happened to be the line he used. Maybe the stress of today pilled up and this was the straw that broke the camel’s back and what not. Or maybe it was the strawberries. But whatever it was, Karen threw the empty basket right onto of Basil.
Since it fell with the open-end coming almost straight-down, no harm came to the man. But his did start thrashing about, screaming, “Help! I’m a trapped gafild-a-fish!”
As the Goddess wondered what a gafild-a-fish looked like, Karen looked ready to bolder-dash right into the Spa and possible bite Basil’s neck clean off with one her powerful jaws one gnaw at a time. But she did not and instead asked quite calmly, if a little winded. “What are you doing?”
He bobbed for a few moments, before he replied every so calmly, “I’m looking for treasure.”
“Treasure?”
“Treasure.”
“Why treasure?”
“I read it in a book.”
“Which book?
“The one with the blue person on it.”
“The blue person?”
“The…blue…” Karen was not avid reader, but that did not sound like any book Mary had. Then again, this was the same girl Karen swore she saw climb the side of the mountain to see if she could find the hide-out of a criminal responsible for breaking into Barley’s hay bin. Turned out Stu was trying to make a caterpillar cage using meal worms.
“Before that, I ate the Manihot esculenta Mary left sleeping on the shelf.” Basil dived back under the water.
“…ate on the shelf?” Karen pondered, and then opened her wide. “Basil! You so did not eat the Cassava Roots. Mary grew mole on there! It could, like make you see…things…or…” She paused, because now the man floated. In a bad way. With his face faced won. In the water. And possibly in one of Jeff’s socks. Not a nice way to go.
Slowly Karen walked to the water. The Goddess ate popcorn. Karen reached over to touch the possible corpse.
Of course, she got a face full of water as Basil splashed her, holding in his teeth her mother’s…unmentionables. It never bugged her before, but Karen noted how whoreish it looked. “Why…”
“Your suppose to say what, my child.” The Harvest Goddess mumbled to herself.
“Basil…what is the reason you have that that in your mouth?”
The man grinned and started talking, the undergarment splashing back into the water, “I’m bobbing for bras!”
This is the point in the story where Karen more or less flips of her family and flips of their clothing (because she’ll just soak the ones she has on in the tub if she needs them that bad) and heads to the Inn to get plastered and forget what happened.
Doug is surprised to find her hear this early.
“Give me whisky and give me it now and four glasses.” Karen said, hands on the table.
Doug shrugged and did that. The blonde-and-brunette girl pours some into each glass, then proceeded to drink down the line in a matter of seconds. The man paused, before asking. “Um…that will be 300 GP.”
“Don’t have any money. Put it on Duke’s tab.” Karen already pours more shots.
Doug took breath and said, “You know I don’t take tabs. Besides, Duke-”
“-will pay for it next time. Trust me. He owes me.” She set the bottle down on the counter rather hard. “After what I caught him and Cliff doing in the Cellar, he owes me.” And so Karen drank her problems away, like all good alcoholics.
THE END
What I knew for certain?
Karen walking in on Sasha and Rick
Jeff filming it
Someone playing in the Spa
And the ending. Be amused! Tommorrow, I shall give moko a crack pairing.
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[M:28]
[M:8]
