Warehouse Clearance
Oct. 26th, 2006 11:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archiveTwo brainfarts that will never see the light of day as a proper story. Not even with bribery. Unless the bribery is REALLY good.
Dedicated to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
antheia and raucousraven respectively.
1.
antheia: *sigh* So PM Zabini, funny, eh?
hackthis: Oh, Jesus. Blaise as the PM? And Draco as the Crown Prince, helping Blaise adjust to his duties? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Clearly seeing The Queen has tainted my brain.
D: Labour? Really? Oh, how common.
B: *narrowing of eyes* I suppose I could be some inbred figurehead of a bygone era, but I prefer to be modern, what can I say. Evolution is all the rage.
D: Do not taint the House of Malfoy with that scientific nonsense. We are ordained by God.
B: Whatever, inbreed.
D: I am not an inbreed!
B: Have you looked in the mirror recently? You're practically an albino.
D: Do you know who I am?!
B: I was elected, you can't touch me.
D: But I can make your life a living hell.
B: What are you going to do -- stick me in the Tower of London and then have me beheaded?
D: Don’t tempt me.
B: You're not so bad to look at when you're irate you know.
D: Oh my god, are you hitting on royalty?
B: Ring me when you get over yourself, okay? The address is 10 Downing Street.
D: Peon! Minion! Subject! I've been tainted forever
B: I should've just let Potter win.
Blaise climbed into the waiting car with a smirk on his face, nodding to the driver as the door was closed behind him. Pansy glanced over from the leather-bound schedule on her lap and raised an eyebrow. "So, how did it go?"
Blaise smoothed out his tie and glanced up through the window. It was just Blaise's imagination that His Royal Highness was watching him from an upstairs window.
He shook it off as they pulled through the gates of Buckingham Palace, heading back towards Whitehall.
"Blaise," Pansy elbowed him. "So?"
"It went about as well as I thought it would," he answered eventually.
Pansy sighed. "I thought you said Her Highness found you, and I quote 'charming and amusing'."
"She does," Blaise didn't bother to hide his wry tone, "but she also happens to be at Windsor today."
A bemused look crossed Pansy's face. "But the Palace said – wait, if you didn't meet with Her Highness, then who – oh god, don't tell me you met with Prince Lucius?"
Blaise snorted softly as they passed through Green Park. "Even better than that."
"Well, don't keep me in suspence," Pansy snapped.
The Jaguar stopped at a light and Blaise watched a woman pushing a pram cross the street. "Prince Draco," he said after several seconds. "I met with Prince Draco."
Blaise didn't even have to look at Pansy to know she was gob-smacked. "You met with the Prince? I thought he was still banished to the continent, when did he get back?"
"Well, you can come along next week and ask him," Blaise said smoothly. Anything that would distract him from trying to throttle the heir to the throne had to be a good thing.
"You're going back next week? But I thought –"
"His Highness's request," Blaise said derisively.
Pansy made a choking noise as her mobile went off. "Pansy Parkinson," she answered crisply.
Blaise turned back at Pansy's prolonged silence, because that much quiet was never good, just as Pansy thrust the phone in his face. "The, um, the Prince would like to speak with you."
Blaise's forehead furrowed. "You're not serious."
Pansy waved the phone at him. "Don't keep him waiting."
Blaise rolled his eyes. "Buggering royals," he muttered under his breath before taking the phone. "Yes, your highness, you summoned?"
2.
Ari paced back and forth in the tiny examination room at Princeton-Plainsboro. He had a cold. That was all. Why George had insisted he go to the hospital was beyond him. Ari was a campaign manager, he didn't have time to get sick. He had babies to slap and women to sexually harass; so what if he had a hacking cough and sounded like he smoked three packs a day?
There were election officials to bribe, and he'd been wasting time waiting for some crackpot doctor. Fifteen minutes was forever in campaigning time; it was fourteen minutes too long. "When George is President, I'm turning this place into a parking garage!" he hollered to no one in particular, pausing to hock a big wad of mucus into the sink.
"Oh, goody," a voice answered from behind him. "Does that mean I'll get a special handicapped space?"
Ari whirled around to glare at the man in a jacket and jeans -- presumably he was a doctor. "If you give me a heart attack, I'll sue you, and take everything including your cane, just so I can beat you with it," he spat. It would've been more threatening if he hadn't been sniffling.
The doctor smirked at him. "Not before I whack you with it," he said waving the cane in Ari's direction semi-threateningly.
"I can't believe I have a gimp for my doctor!" Ari hollered. "Only in New Jersey!"
New Jersey was a hemorrhoid on the ass of the United States, and when George was president, Ari was going to make sure it was removed and tossed away. Or possibly given to Mexico in exchange for cheap labor, he hadn't decided yet.
"You're quite the sweet talker," the doctor glanced at the chart in his hand briefly before dropping it in the trashcan beside the door and hobbling all the way in. "Mr. Gold, is it?'
"Yes, gold like the bricks I shit every morning," Ari sniffled again.
Ari's doctor tapped the table with his cane, but Ari remained standing. "If you're passing gold bricks I think you have a bigger problem than the common cold."
Ari scoffed derisively, or he would've if he could stop coughing. "Look, Dr. Gimp, just give me a couple Klonopin and we'll call it a day, okay? I still have three states to visit and I can't be holed up getting my dick sucked at the Hilton."
"Dr. House," the man replied smoothly before sitting down on a white stool. "Dr. Gregory House."
Ari blew his nose for the fiftieth time today. "I don't care if you're Dr. Spock, I just want-–"
"If I cared what you wanted I'd be in the service industry and not in the god industry, so shut up and sit down," Dr. House snapped.
Ari gave him his most surly look, even as he climbed up on the examination table. Dr House just snickered. "So, you’re a politician?"
Ari scoffed derisively. "No, I'm just in the politician business," he said, waving a red, white and blue snotty handkerchief in the doctor's face. "Clooney in 2008."
The smirk on Dr. House's face was slightly disconcerting. It reminded Ari of himself a bit. "You work for the Clooney campaign."
"I am the Clooney campaign," Ari corrected.
"When was the last time the president-to-be had a check up?"
Ari narrowed his eyes. "You just want to see him naked, don't you?"
Dr House shrugged. "You got me; I'm just as shallow as the next gay guy."
"Damn homos are all the same," Ari spat mildly.
"Considering Mr. Clooney is about to become the head of the biggest Gay Pride parade ever, maybe you want to call Richard Simmons for some tolerance lessons," the doctor said.
"Nobody checks out George's ass but me and Anderson." Ari was too sick for his hackles to go all the way up.
"Hey, I can share," the doctor held up his cane placatingly. "I don't need to be the head of the harem, just a regular."
Ari coughed once and narrowed his eyes. "At least you're honest about it, give me your card and I'll contact you once we're in D.C."
Dr. House's smile was a little jarring, and Ari reminded himself that he was only gay for George and his wife. "You don't mind relocating, right? Of course you don't, this is the President we're talking about."
Dr House stood up. "Can I bring my boyfriend along?"
"What does he do?"
"He's an oncologist."
Ari shrugged. "Why not –- now can I get those Klonopin or what?"
Dr House shook his head. "No, you can go get some chicken soup and suck it up. You're through the worst of it anyway –- unless you're always like this."
Ari scowled. "I'm on my best behavior, Dr. Cripple, and don't you forget it."
"Oh, well," Dr House said. "Nobody's perfect."
Dedicated to
antheia and raucousraven respectively.1.
antheia: *sigh* So PM Zabini, funny, eh?hackthis: Oh, Jesus. Blaise as the PM? And Draco as the Crown Prince, helping Blaise adjust to his duties? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Clearly seeing The Queen has tainted my brain. D: Labour? Really? Oh, how common.
B: *narrowing of eyes* I suppose I could be some inbred figurehead of a bygone era, but I prefer to be modern, what can I say. Evolution is all the rage.
D: Do not taint the House of Malfoy with that scientific nonsense. We are ordained by God.
B: Whatever, inbreed.
D: I am not an inbreed!
B: Have you looked in the mirror recently? You're practically an albino.
D: Do you know who I am?!
B: I was elected, you can't touch me.
D: But I can make your life a living hell.
B: What are you going to do -- stick me in the Tower of London and then have me beheaded?
D: Don’t tempt me.
B: You're not so bad to look at when you're irate you know.
D: Oh my god, are you hitting on royalty?
B: Ring me when you get over yourself, okay? The address is 10 Downing Street.
D: Peon! Minion! Subject! I've been tainted forever
B: I should've just let Potter win.
Blaise climbed into the waiting car with a smirk on his face, nodding to the driver as the door was closed behind him. Pansy glanced over from the leather-bound schedule on her lap and raised an eyebrow. "So, how did it go?"
Blaise smoothed out his tie and glanced up through the window. It was just Blaise's imagination that His Royal Highness was watching him from an upstairs window.
He shook it off as they pulled through the gates of Buckingham Palace, heading back towards Whitehall.
"Blaise," Pansy elbowed him. "So?"
"It went about as well as I thought it would," he answered eventually.
Pansy sighed. "I thought you said Her Highness found you, and I quote 'charming and amusing'."
"She does," Blaise didn't bother to hide his wry tone, "but she also happens to be at Windsor today."
A bemused look crossed Pansy's face. "But the Palace said – wait, if you didn't meet with Her Highness, then who – oh god, don't tell me you met with Prince Lucius?"
Blaise snorted softly as they passed through Green Park. "Even better than that."
"Well, don't keep me in suspence," Pansy snapped.
The Jaguar stopped at a light and Blaise watched a woman pushing a pram cross the street. "Prince Draco," he said after several seconds. "I met with Prince Draco."
Blaise didn't even have to look at Pansy to know she was gob-smacked. "You met with the Prince? I thought he was still banished to the continent, when did he get back?"
"Well, you can come along next week and ask him," Blaise said smoothly. Anything that would distract him from trying to throttle the heir to the throne had to be a good thing.
"You're going back next week? But I thought –"
"His Highness's request," Blaise said derisively.
Pansy made a choking noise as her mobile went off. "Pansy Parkinson," she answered crisply.
Blaise turned back at Pansy's prolonged silence, because that much quiet was never good, just as Pansy thrust the phone in his face. "The, um, the Prince would like to speak with you."
Blaise's forehead furrowed. "You're not serious."
Pansy waved the phone at him. "Don't keep him waiting."
Blaise rolled his eyes. "Buggering royals," he muttered under his breath before taking the phone. "Yes, your highness, you summoned?"
2.
Ari paced back and forth in the tiny examination room at Princeton-Plainsboro. He had a cold. That was all. Why George had insisted he go to the hospital was beyond him. Ari was a campaign manager, he didn't have time to get sick. He had babies to slap and women to sexually harass; so what if he had a hacking cough and sounded like he smoked three packs a day?
There were election officials to bribe, and he'd been wasting time waiting for some crackpot doctor. Fifteen minutes was forever in campaigning time; it was fourteen minutes too long. "When George is President, I'm turning this place into a parking garage!" he hollered to no one in particular, pausing to hock a big wad of mucus into the sink.
"Oh, goody," a voice answered from behind him. "Does that mean I'll get a special handicapped space?"
Ari whirled around to glare at the man in a jacket and jeans -- presumably he was a doctor. "If you give me a heart attack, I'll sue you, and take everything including your cane, just so I can beat you with it," he spat. It would've been more threatening if he hadn't been sniffling.
The doctor smirked at him. "Not before I whack you with it," he said waving the cane in Ari's direction semi-threateningly.
"I can't believe I have a gimp for my doctor!" Ari hollered. "Only in New Jersey!"
New Jersey was a hemorrhoid on the ass of the United States, and when George was president, Ari was going to make sure it was removed and tossed away. Or possibly given to Mexico in exchange for cheap labor, he hadn't decided yet.
"You're quite the sweet talker," the doctor glanced at the chart in his hand briefly before dropping it in the trashcan beside the door and hobbling all the way in. "Mr. Gold, is it?'
"Yes, gold like the bricks I shit every morning," Ari sniffled again.
Ari's doctor tapped the table with his cane, but Ari remained standing. "If you're passing gold bricks I think you have a bigger problem than the common cold."
Ari scoffed derisively, or he would've if he could stop coughing. "Look, Dr. Gimp, just give me a couple Klonopin and we'll call it a day, okay? I still have three states to visit and I can't be holed up getting my dick sucked at the Hilton."
"Dr. House," the man replied smoothly before sitting down on a white stool. "Dr. Gregory House."
Ari blew his nose for the fiftieth time today. "I don't care if you're Dr. Spock, I just want-–"
"If I cared what you wanted I'd be in the service industry and not in the god industry, so shut up and sit down," Dr. House snapped.
Ari gave him his most surly look, even as he climbed up on the examination table. Dr House just snickered. "So, you’re a politician?"
Ari scoffed derisively. "No, I'm just in the politician business," he said, waving a red, white and blue snotty handkerchief in the doctor's face. "Clooney in 2008."
The smirk on Dr. House's face was slightly disconcerting. It reminded Ari of himself a bit. "You work for the Clooney campaign."
"I am the Clooney campaign," Ari corrected.
"When was the last time the president-to-be had a check up?"
Ari narrowed his eyes. "You just want to see him naked, don't you?"
Dr House shrugged. "You got me; I'm just as shallow as the next gay guy."
"Damn homos are all the same," Ari spat mildly.
"Considering Mr. Clooney is about to become the head of the biggest Gay Pride parade ever, maybe you want to call Richard Simmons for some tolerance lessons," the doctor said.
"Nobody checks out George's ass but me and Anderson." Ari was too sick for his hackles to go all the way up.
"Hey, I can share," the doctor held up his cane placatingly. "I don't need to be the head of the harem, just a regular."
Ari coughed once and narrowed his eyes. "At least you're honest about it, give me your card and I'll contact you once we're in D.C."
Dr. House's smile was a little jarring, and Ari reminded himself that he was only gay for George and his wife. "You don't mind relocating, right? Of course you don't, this is the President we're talking about."
Dr House stood up. "Can I bring my boyfriend along?"
"What does he do?"
"He's an oncologist."
Ari shrugged. "Why not –- now can I get those Klonopin or what?"
Dr House shook his head. "No, you can go get some chicken soup and suck it up. You're through the worst of it anyway –- unless you're always like this."
Ari scowled. "I'm on my best behavior, Dr. Cripple, and don't you forget it."
"Oh, well," Dr House said. "Nobody's perfect."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-10-26 06:58 pm (UTC)Clooney in 08!
Uh, also: He had as cold. I think that's supposed to be "a cold"
no subject
Date: 2006-11-08 12:30 am (UTC)I know! That happens to me too!
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Date: 2006-10-26 06:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-08 12:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-08 06:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-26 07:06 pm (UTC)And then I read the last snippet.
So.
You continue to rock my socks.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-08 12:30 am (UTC)LE YAY
Date: 2006-10-26 08:37 pm (UTC)Oh HOUSE. I can hear him saying it. And I do believe not even McKay could out-unnerving-smirk Gregory House during a clinic visit from Ari Gold. In fact, I'd totally expect House to bring in the Cottages just so they could strap Ari down for the (totally gratuitous) spinal tap while Cuddy watched in disgust and House sat in front of the security monitor patch to watch the fun with Wilson and a bag of Skittles. And wait for Candidate Clooney, of course. Because you know George wouldn't let Ari languish there for long.
...Anderson and Wilson would probably get along too well for anyone's comfort.
You make goooooooood crack-candy. Thanks for the contact high.
Re: LE YAY
Date: 2006-11-08 12:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-26 09:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-08 12:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-27 11:51 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2006-11-08 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-08 10:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-27 02:42 pm (UTC)Oh god, can you imagine House, Ari and Rodney?!
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Date: 2006-11-08 12:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-27 08:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-08 12:33 am (UTC)