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The Celebration of two fools of April

"So ya about ready to head to the Maison, clone? S'pose we're pretty much wrapped up here, far as I can tell."

George is countin' the extra cash outta the register, makin' sure we've not got too much to leave in there for the night. Not only is it April Fool's Day, but a lotta o' the world knows it's our birthdays as well, and that there's no way in ruddy London we're gonna be around to watch the WWW tonight. So yeah, don't wanna make things too invitin' for the criminal sorts who might wanna make us the April fools. We're skivin' off early, the two of us, to head up to the Maison and make sure everything is right and proper brill for the festivities tonight. This means we're leavin' the kids to close up shop.

I look over at Miles. "Got that ward spell down for the front door lock-up at closing, Kilos?"

"Got it, Fred," he answers.

“Make sure you give yourself plenty o’ time to suit up before ya come by. Want you b-movied up proper-like!”

"Yeah, otherwise ya don't get your own snifter of the very special, made by us, 'staff-only' birthday punch," I remind 'em.

“Now, we gotta get goin,” Georgie says, closin’ up the register. “We got some outlandish and extravagant costumes to squeeze into!”

"And when ya see the trousers on mine," I admit, "you'll know what George is talkin' about! Till we see you next, ladies and gents! Tata!"

Geordie and I head out the door and down the Alley till we get to our Apparition point. Moments later, we're storming the doors of the Maison, obviously interrupting a heated discussion between Packlesby and Trudes at the front desk. Well, Trudes is heated, anyway.

“One second, Packlesby, is a big deal! What if she’d been the Minister? What if she’d been an auror? Have our license quicker than you could get a cushioning under us to break out fall, that’s for sure, you half-wit! Why they keep you on, I’ve no clue, but you can guess I’m going to be talking to them about cutting your pay yet again!”

"Hallo, and what's this? Another good day in the neighbourhood?" I ask Trudes..

“This meatloaf brain got a cushion-charm one second too late and some lady slipped on goo almost bruised ‘er tailbone! It’s a good thing Michelson’s good at healin’ and I could smooth it all over she wasn’t gonna sue us!”

"Meatloaf brain? Hmm, good idea, we'll have to look into that, won't we, clone?" I say thoughtfully, if I might say so myself. "That's why we pay ya the big bucks, Trudes, so we don't have to pay 'em out in lawsuits! Nice goin'!" I take a deep breath and look around the entrance lobby. "Alright then, anybody ready to partay?"

He isn’t,” she says, thrustin’ ‘er finger toward the shruggin’ miscreant. “He’s going home and practicing his reflex-time or else,” she finishes, turnin’ her firey eyes on him.

“Yeah…don’t get any love,” he says with a shrug and slouches off toward the stairs to the staffrooms.

“Honest, you two, if I have to clean up one more o’ that shit-wad’s messes…when are you gonna get a manager for this place?”

"Soon, Trudes, it'll be soon, we promise ya." I try to be soothing, I really do. "We'll make sure and find somebody it'll be easy to work with too, alright?"

She grumbles something and heads up the stairs as George calls up to ‘er, “But no work tonight, you got it? It’s all fun and games! Don’t worry none about responsibilities and lawsuits and whatnot.”

"Nice try, Geordie. Hey, we did what we could, eh? But enough of that drivel, we've got a party to set up for! Where we startin', and with what?"

“Figure we split it up into rooms,” he says, fanning his hand in the air in front of us in his visionary way. “One room’d be the muck-monster’s swamp. Figure that’s best in the lobby, since we got the recreation of the Hogwarts Swamp there. Then we got the mad scientist’s evil laboratory in another room, prob’ly the lafeteria with loads o’ beakers and whatnot. Then tin-can spaceship in another…whaddya think?”

"Sounds good to me," I tell 'im. "Everybody's gotta sign in here, right? As the person/thing they're dressed as, so people know who all's here, don'tcha think? Plus, I s'pose we'll need at least one wall in one o' the rooms to show our b-movies, so as everybody can watch their alter-egos on the silver screen."

“Oh, that’s a must,” Geordie agrees. “We’ll have to set that up in the space-ship room. All them nobs and gears and screens and blinkin’ lights. Techno up the wazoo! You get that room, my clone of the outer space!”

"Ta! And don't forget the Tokyo skyline in the background - hmm, maybe we could kinda rig that in the background of the graveyard room. Needs some cheap, stringy cobwebs there, some pie-tin flyin' saucers in the space room. That it?"

He scratches his chin and shrugs. “Dunno. We’ll prob’ly think of it along the way. Let’s go crackin!”

A coupla hours later, the Maison Mischief is total and proper brill, it is, and it's time to go put on our b-movie wear. Geordie and I adjourn to separate dressing rooms in our private private room and get to it.

I pull off the work-ish duds and toss 'em on the cushioned bench there, choosin' to work on my hair first. A few minutes and a few intensifed spells later, ya could mistake me for a Malfoy, ya could, blonde as I am. I tug on the tight white trousers and shirt, tuckin' it so that my name is straight and glaring across my chest. The black and red space captain-ish sorta jacket goes over top and I tuck a toy ray-gun in my back waistband for good measure. (Woulda tucked it in my back pocket, but these trousers play snugbuns a bit too serious-like.) The final touch? Takes a moment, but I work the spell on my front teeth so that each time I crack a smile, a brilliant, twinkling glint sparks off 'em. Then I look myself up and down, front and back in the mirror.

Flash Gordon, eat your heart out!

Now to see what Geordie's got himself up to.

When Geordie comes out, he's surrounded by a halo o' teased, messed, frizzy hair standin' out about a foot around his head, like 'e stuck a fork in a muggle electrics socket. He's taunted out 'is whiskers so'z he's got a five o'clock shadow ten times over, and he's done somethin' to 'is eyes so he looks half-crazed. The labcoat 'e's got on is white, ratty, with frayed threads, some burn holes, and half a dozen pretty sizable violent chemical splotches. His shoulder's smokin' too.

We check ourselves in the mirror in our secret hide-away in the back of the Maison.

“Well, Clone, shall we?” I say, strikin’ a classic Flash pose.

“Just a mo, my cloniest,” Georgie says, reachin’ into a pocket hidden behind a distinctly nasty large rotten tomato-lookin’ stain, and pulls out a great big envelope, which ‘e hands to me.

The moment I open the envelope and slip the card out, Marvin pops up, his gnarly ray-gun pointed right at my noggin. Where’s the kaboom? There was supposed to be a kaboom. Then I open up the card and there’s a room-shakin’ KABOOM, and soon as the dust clears, I read the little clone-written inscription in the card.

To the greatest April Fools prank ever.

Wub,
Geordie


“Aww, George,” I say and grab ‘im up in a clone-crushin’ hug. His big fluff o’ hair envelopes my head and a few strands get in my nose. “Thanks. You know you’re the best prank ever, too.”

“Takes one ta know one, Clone,” he says, smackin my back. “Let’s go out and prank the daylights outta the world!”

“Yeah!”

Comments

Posted by: nm_ginny (nm_ginny)
Posted at: April 2nd, 2009 03:41 am (UTC)
Ginny - Giggle

“Yes indeed!” he laughs. “But ya know what’d hide all my undoin’ of all your tremendous work?” He smirks and drops something on my head. “A veil.”

I purse my lips slightly and position the veil so it feels like it's on like it should be. "Thanks George. Though I still stand by that it looked better on you. It...enhanced...you're costume. Made you look like a madder mad scientist, see."

“Nah, nothin’ looks madder’n my natural self. I had to tone m’self down quite a bit to come off lookin’ just the right amount o’ mad.”

"Oh, well. I can't really deny that now can I?" I tease.

“’Course not!” he scoffs. “Would wonder if ya even knew me at all.”

I roll my eyes and look around, "Anyone here that I should stay away from? I noticed Trudes was here...how's her mood? Do I need to steer clear?"

“Er…best to steer clear,” he says, leaning close to me. “Fredgie and me invited a special guest, and she’s gonna be none too happy with us when she finds out.”

I wince and nod, "Thanks for the warning, mate. And...special guest? What is that supposed to mean?"

“Girl Trudes fancies,” he tells me with a smirk. “They been dancin’ ‘round each other for ‘bout half a year! Fred ‘n me figured it was time we force ‘em in a room together.”

"Trudes likes-wait-she...what??" I ask then start to laugh, "I had no idea Trudes and I had that in common." If I had known that I might of tried flirting with her a bit.

“Yup.” He winks. “So steer thee clear from She-Ra. She’s got a sword and not afraid ta use it.”

Well, that went better than I thought. Couldn't ask for a better reaction from a brother, I reckon.

"Stay away from She-Ra because she has a sword. Got it." I crane my neck to look at her a bit better, "Reckon she would want my veil?"

“Nah, don’t give ‘er anything to hide behind,” he advises.

I sigh in defeat and nod. "I think I should probably let you go talk to the other guests, eh? Doesn't seem fair that I'm taking up so much of your precious birthday party time."

“Aww Dox,” he says consolingly. “You’re always takin’ up precious time. Nothin’ outta the norm.”

"But George! Both of us know that's what little sisters are for! It's my job to bug the ruddy hell out of ya. And I have so much lost time to make up on. Speaking of lost time...thanks again for the replacement on the armour, yeah? I appreciate it." I don't really feel like talking more about what happened that night here of all places...but I reckon a thank you is still order...no matter what day it is.

He puts his finger to his lips and leans close. “Only ones know ‘bout that are family. And you know I gotta give ya tools for self-protectin’ so’s you’re fit to commence li’l sisterly duties. There’s a lotta hell ta bug outta me, Mum’ll tell ya that.”

"Just because I said thanks for the...you know...doesn't mean anyone actually knows what it is. I could have been talking about some other kind of protection. If you catch my drift." I say with a pointed look before I smile mischeiviously.

He snorts. “And I could, at that, but from what you’re sayin, you wouldn’t need em, wot?”

"Who says I don't like it both ways?" I challenge back.

“Oh, fair ‘nuff, Dox. You and your boyfriend got a lot in common, dontcha?”

"Who? What? I don't have a boyfriend." I question him, genuinly confused.

“Poor Babs,” he coos. “Don’t let ‘im hear ya say that. T’would break ‘is heart!”

"Oh! Blaise! I wouldn't dream of breaking his heart, so he won't hear it. Infact, I had a nice dinner over at his place. Met Neddy. He said he'd make me a dress and I'm going to take him up on the offer....Neddy, I mean, not Blaise. In fact, Neddy said he had met you. Had some coffee?"

He laughs. “Wouldn’t quite call it havin’ coffee. Nah, seems he and Coffee have become somethin’ akin ta friends.”

"Oh. OH! He met Coffee-coffee! And he made it through in one piece. Impressive."

“You kiddin?” George says happily. “He and Coffee’re mates!” He reaches behind him and grabs up a beaker of dismal looking brownish-black sludge. “Brought some along so’s Neddy can have a buddy to walk around with.”

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