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vocab_drabblesTitle: 'Such Short Notice'
Fandom: The Monkees
Author:but_can_i_be_trusted
Rating: G
Word Count: 887
Characters/Pairings: Henry Babbitt, Mike Nesmith, Micky Dolenz, Peter Tork, Davy Jones
Warnings: None
Notes: Crossposted toficlet_zone. Sequel to 'The Other Way'.
Summary:
Four young men living in the same house made the notion of eavesdropping a tricky prospect. There was so much activity going on both in and around the Pad under ordinary circumstances. Now that Christmas was on the way, the matter was an even more difficult one.
Nonetheless, Babbitt managed now and then to spy, and to listen in, on his tenants. It was chilly and dark outside, with the moon feebly trying to peek through winter mists, but curiosity kept him glued to the front door.
"I sure don't know how we're gonna get the place decorated on such short notice," he heard Mike grumble at one point. "We can't even afford a halfway decent tree, least of all this late!"
Peter's two cents quickly followed. "The refreshments aren't looking too promising. We've either invited too many people, or we're even lower on groceries than we usually are."
"We're never gonna pull this off," Micky whined, in tones of pure despair. "I guess we gotta call the whole thing off. Take a rain check, or something."
"But 'on such short notice', like Mike just said," Davy balked. "Impossible! I mean, it's two days until Christmas Eve! How can we possibly call everybody up and cancel now? It would take too long to call all of those people! Everyone we invited sounded like they were looking forward to the party. We can't let those people down."
"Well, what the heck else are we gonna do," Mike shot back. "'Cuz I'll be darned if I know. The way I see it, this party never had a chance of comin' together, even with Babbitt lettin' us."
"Guys, let's just all calm down," Peter suggested, ever the peacemaker. "Fussing isn't going to solve our problems. Things just happen this way, sometimes. It's getting late; we can all do with a good rest. I say we should all just go to bed, and sleep on it. Maybe we'll come up with a solution tomorrow. If it doesn't work out, we can try again next year."
As the conversation dwindled away, Babbitt heard his tenants slowly trudge their way to bed. He turned away, pensive.
Peter had been so earnest, if a bit overly zealous, in his obsequies toward him the other day, when asking for permission to hold a certain holiday party. And the stunned relief in his eyes when he'd been told yes had been strangely satisfying to witness.
As much as the young men grated on Babbitt's nerves, and as often as they'd failed to make rent on time, he couldn't say that they were terrible. They were actually rather decent, respectful, always willing to do something nice for others.
Yes, they were all good boys, even that maniac, Dolenz. Babbitt couldn't argue with the evidence.
Perhaps it was time for him to do something nice for them.
Thus it came about that he found himself up bright and early, even before sunrise, anxiously raiding every store he could. So close to Christmas, the decorations were in woefully short supply. The markets were bustling with people who were frantically trying to stock their larders at the last minute. As for the tree...
By the time Babbitt had finished his shopping, the proprietors of every Christmas tree lot in town were probably overjoyed to see the back of him. He, himself, was glad to put all of the hustle and bustle behind him, and get back to the relative calm of his own property.
To his satisfaction, he noticed the absence of the Monkeemobile in its accustomed parking spot. Perfect; that meant that at least one of the boys was out. A knock on the door, and a quick hide, proved to him that all four were absent. Even better, particularly thanks to his spare key. Entering, he got right to work, leaving out the back door just in time for the Monkeemobile to pull up out front. He huddled carefully on the steps that led to the beach, eavesdropping once more.
"I figured we were wastin' our time," Mike groused as he let himself and his roommates in. "This close to Christmas, what else could we expect? I...what in the world...?!"
Then, a series of gasps and shocked outcries.
"A...a Christmas tree," Micky breathed. "It's shorter than Davy, but it'll do in a pinch!"
"And boxes of ornaments to go with it," Peter enthusiastically cheered. "And so many decorations and lights for the Pad. These will look beautiful."
Davy let out a startled squeak. "Fellahs, the icebox is fully stocked! Sodas and juices, and things for appetizers and snacks. I don't believe it!"
"And Mike thought it couldn't be done," Micky teased. "As ol' Dino would say, ain't that a kick in the head!"
"Well, a man can be wrong. Now let's get this place all set up for the party," Mike declared. "Somebody put some carols on the jukebox, already!"
As the Pad turned into a hub of joyful activity, Babbitt smiled to himself. He eased down the rest of the steps, down to the beach, opting to take the long way around to his own home. There was no need to make the boys nervous by announcing his presence.
"Ho, ho, ho," he murmured, feeling a pleasant warmth bubbling in his soul. "Merry Christmas, boys."
Fandom: The Monkees
Author:
but_can_i_be_trustedRating: G
Word Count: 887
Characters/Pairings: Henry Babbitt, Mike Nesmith, Micky Dolenz, Peter Tork, Davy Jones
Warnings: None
Notes: Crossposted to
ficlet_zone. Sequel to 'The Other Way'.Summary:
Four young men living in the same house made the notion of eavesdropping a tricky prospect. There was so much activity going on both in and around the Pad under ordinary circumstances. Now that Christmas was on the way, the matter was an even more difficult one.
Nonetheless, Babbitt managed now and then to spy, and to listen in, on his tenants. It was chilly and dark outside, with the moon feebly trying to peek through winter mists, but curiosity kept him glued to the front door.
"I sure don't know how we're gonna get the place decorated on such short notice," he heard Mike grumble at one point. "We can't even afford a halfway decent tree, least of all this late!"
Peter's two cents quickly followed. "The refreshments aren't looking too promising. We've either invited too many people, or we're even lower on groceries than we usually are."
"We're never gonna pull this off," Micky whined, in tones of pure despair. "I guess we gotta call the whole thing off. Take a rain check, or something."
"But 'on such short notice', like Mike just said," Davy balked. "Impossible! I mean, it's two days until Christmas Eve! How can we possibly call everybody up and cancel now? It would take too long to call all of those people! Everyone we invited sounded like they were looking forward to the party. We can't let those people down."
"Well, what the heck else are we gonna do," Mike shot back. "'Cuz I'll be darned if I know. The way I see it, this party never had a chance of comin' together, even with Babbitt lettin' us."
"Guys, let's just all calm down," Peter suggested, ever the peacemaker. "Fussing isn't going to solve our problems. Things just happen this way, sometimes. It's getting late; we can all do with a good rest. I say we should all just go to bed, and sleep on it. Maybe we'll come up with a solution tomorrow. If it doesn't work out, we can try again next year."
As the conversation dwindled away, Babbitt heard his tenants slowly trudge their way to bed. He turned away, pensive.
Peter had been so earnest, if a bit overly zealous, in his obsequies toward him the other day, when asking for permission to hold a certain holiday party. And the stunned relief in his eyes when he'd been told yes had been strangely satisfying to witness.
As much as the young men grated on Babbitt's nerves, and as often as they'd failed to make rent on time, he couldn't say that they were terrible. They were actually rather decent, respectful, always willing to do something nice for others.
Yes, they were all good boys, even that maniac, Dolenz. Babbitt couldn't argue with the evidence.
Perhaps it was time for him to do something nice for them.
Thus it came about that he found himself up bright and early, even before sunrise, anxiously raiding every store he could. So close to Christmas, the decorations were in woefully short supply. The markets were bustling with people who were frantically trying to stock their larders at the last minute. As for the tree...
By the time Babbitt had finished his shopping, the proprietors of every Christmas tree lot in town were probably overjoyed to see the back of him. He, himself, was glad to put all of the hustle and bustle behind him, and get back to the relative calm of his own property.
To his satisfaction, he noticed the absence of the Monkeemobile in its accustomed parking spot. Perfect; that meant that at least one of the boys was out. A knock on the door, and a quick hide, proved to him that all four were absent. Even better, particularly thanks to his spare key. Entering, he got right to work, leaving out the back door just in time for the Monkeemobile to pull up out front. He huddled carefully on the steps that led to the beach, eavesdropping once more.
"I figured we were wastin' our time," Mike groused as he let himself and his roommates in. "This close to Christmas, what else could we expect? I...what in the world...?!"
Then, a series of gasps and shocked outcries.
"A...a Christmas tree," Micky breathed. "It's shorter than Davy, but it'll do in a pinch!"
"And boxes of ornaments to go with it," Peter enthusiastically cheered. "And so many decorations and lights for the Pad. These will look beautiful."
Davy let out a startled squeak. "Fellahs, the icebox is fully stocked! Sodas and juices, and things for appetizers and snacks. I don't believe it!"
"And Mike thought it couldn't be done," Micky teased. "As ol' Dino would say, ain't that a kick in the head!"
"Well, a man can be wrong. Now let's get this place all set up for the party," Mike declared. "Somebody put some carols on the jukebox, already!"
As the Pad turned into a hub of joyful activity, Babbitt smiled to himself. He eased down the rest of the steps, down to the beach, opting to take the long way around to his own home. There was no need to make the boys nervous by announcing his presence.
"Ho, ho, ho," he murmured, feeling a pleasant warmth bubbling in his soul. "Merry Christmas, boys."
