|04-29-2005, 04:54 AM||#1|
Join Date: Apr 2005
Local Time: 03:36 PM
Morning in Dublin (oneshot)
Here's something I came up with to get the creative juices flowing. I had fun writing it. And in case you don't understand the word fan FICTION, this is indeed all lies.__________________
It's well known that Larry's the Sexy One. Flawless, ageless, a veritable Grecian god. To the fan.
To someone who's known him intimately for twenty-five years, what the media sees is just the tip of the iceberg.
But he makes the most hideous noises when he brushes his teeth.
I'm leaning against the wall outside the washroom as I do every morning. I used to hate mornings, and I still do, but I can never miss listening to Larry brush his teeth. It's the same thing every morning. If a giant, cosmic atom bomb were dropped on the world (using the word "drop" loosely) he'd still be in there at seven o'clock sharp, brushing away. He'd probably not even hear the earth exploding around him, come to think.
There's a furious swishing as he attacks his teeth with the brush. Then a sequence of raucous hacking and spitting and gulping and more spitting as he swishes water in his mouth; heaven forbid a molecule of toothpaste should remain in that mouth of his. Humming follows as he flosses, only humming never sounds like "hmm hmm hmmm" when one's mouth is open, so the sound is more of a "hnnngh hnngh hnnnngh". After that, there's precisely thirty seconds of silence as he swishes that horrifying mouthwash of his. He says that the more disgusting it tastes, the better it works, but I can't keep it in my mouth for two seconds. In fact, we put some of it in the spoon for Reg during the Numb video when he was expecting vanilla pudding, and he spewed it all over Steve and the camera.
But after Larry swishes his mouthwash, there's a grand finale of gargling, hacking and spitting. He must be trying to rid his mouth of all saliva as well as mouthwash. Maybe his saliva and his teeth and his tongue too, by the sound of it. Stop, Larry, I like your tongue! But he bursts from the toilet, a new man, not noticing me until I follow him instead of taking my turn with my own toothbrush.
I follow him around like a dog just about everywhere he goes. Except when he rides his bike; I've seen the way he speeds when no one's around and I prefer to die of natural causes, thank you. But now he's looking at me askance, curious yet resigned, too used to all my eccentricities. I grin, skipping to catch up with him for a violently minty kiss, and he asks if I want any coffee as he continues into the kitchen.
I decline and amble off happily to our still-warm bed for the rest of the night's sleep.
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