I Mighta Sorta Did an MST a While Back...
May. 26th, 2009 12:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
verbal_kintverbal_kint10 ? And yet...It had to be done.
It’s a brisk Wednesday afternoon at Princeton Plainsboro. I bet you’re wondering why it’s not Tuesday, since Tuesday is the day all the crazy shit typically goes down. But it’s not Tuesday, because it’s Wednesday, the day James Wilson catches up on Youtube videos with strangers. SUDDENLY, House enters Wilson’s office.
Wilson: House, you know better than to interrupt me while I’m catching up on Youtube videos with random strangers (gestures to dorky looking stranger to his left)
House: Sorry, Cameron needed a tampon and—
Wilson: Second drawer down.
House: Thanks pal. Who the stranger?
Wilson: Some obsessed fan. Calls herself Verb.
Verb: I’m an obsessed fan. OBSESSED.
House: Well, it’s better than the time you had Tim Burton over.
Wilson: Half of my X-rays are still in claymation…
House: (looking suspiciously at Verb) Hey, you’re the chick that did that crappy lip-sync to Epiphany from Sweeney Todd!
Verb: Wilson, I think we should get off Youtube. Now.
Wilson: Well, what else are we supposed to do, random stranger?
Verb: Bad!fic?
House: Bad idea, Wilson writes half of it. He always writes from my POV about a burning desire to do him that spreads like wildfire through my loins.
Verb: I’m no medical genius, but I think that might be herpes.
Wilson: Like you two could write any better!
Verb: Hey! I think Nightdog commented on one of my stories…once.
House: Well you did try to kill us…
Verb: One time! (sighs) okay Wilson, you may have a point. How about this—I get to MST one bad!fic, and then, to clear my conscience, I’ll MST one of my bad!fics. How does that sound?
House: It sounds better than Youtube and Tampons.
They grab a bag of mysteriously appearing popcorn and gather round the computer. The Pit pops up on screen, and they search ANGST. Several treasures of bad!fic now plague their eyes, and yet, they can’t turn away. They snuggle in for a closer look. Except for Verb, because that’d be creepy after just meeting them. Not really. House and Wilson snuggle though.
N/A : I know I already have two stories practically on hold but that little bugger wouldn't leave me alone... sorry sorry... had to...
House: Had to? What, was someone holding a gun to her head and forcing her to look up Mary Sue on Wikipedia?
Wilson: At least she apologized.
Verb: N/A? as in ‘not applicable?’ Gosh, whatever happened to author’s notes?
House: N/A can also stand for ‘Narcotics Anonymous.’ Not that I would know.
The young girl looked at the crowding mass with a distinct wince.
All: CANCER!
She wasn’t much really, 13 to 14 years old with dark brown eyes and a head of messy and curly, short light brown, practically blond hair. Her most distinctive trait was her lightly brown tanned skin, and her slit eyes moving steadily from one figure to the other, trying to figure out where she could hit to make the maximum of instant pain and the less lingering marks.
Wilson: Basically I got that she’s a sadistic killer, Asian, slightly German, and Mexican. Anything else?
House: Nope, I think you nailed her.
Wilson: What?!
House: Her—her looks, I think you hit the nail on the head with her looks!
Wilson: Oh…
But the massive dude in front of her didn’t seem to recognize the keen and practically maniacal gleam that lightened her otherwise soft eyes.
House: See, I’m not sure that eyes with maniacal gleams in them can ever be considered “soft.”
Thus he was stupid enough to groan and advance menacingly over her, encouraged by his comrades.
House (as Police Officer): Ma’am, could you please describe the scene?
Wilson (as damsel in distress): Well sir, Mr. Massive Dude was groaning, and all of the sudden he was over me! Advancing!
The policeman who would find them all would attest that he found them in various ‘painfully clear’ positions on the ground, whining and whimpering. Also reporting that he couldn’t understand for the life of him how that big bad boy came to have a baseball bat mark across his sore behind.
Verb: You thinking what I’m thinking?
All: WHEN BASEBALL ORGIES GO BAD!
After dealing with those obnoxious idiots, muttering under her breath about idiot men and so on, she made her way unrepentantly toward an unidentified house, grinning widely.
House: So once she’d satisfied her lust and left them in painfully clear positions, she went to a stranger’s house to do it again?
Verb: This bitch is like the hillbillies from Deliverance.
House was getting fed up with trying to force his team out of his flat while nursing a growing headache and a nearly empty orange container when his doorbell rang again, making him even worse. He just hoped against all hopes that Wilson didn’t have another fight with his wife leading him to sleep at House’s.
Wilson: Those are some pretty harsh feelings to internalize, House.
House: Aww, Wilson, you know you’re always welcome when you bring beer.
Wilson: Thanks, House. Plus, I’d nurse your headache. In fact, I’d just nurse you in general. I lactate.
Verb excuses herself to throw up.
For once it would have seemed that stars were shining upon him as he wasn’t greeted by the sign of his one and only best friend. But what he saw startled him even more, making him drop his cane and his dear bottle of Vicodin.
House: Wait…so the stars were shining on me because I didn’t see my only friend and I instead dropped my cane and Vicodin, therefore rendering me helpless and in pain…Lucky me.
- Hey there! Missed me? Said a singsong toned voice with an underlying mirth joined with a dripping sarcasm.
House: Not really, no.
Wilson: Did she beat your ass with a baseball bat, too?
House: I don’t want to talk about it.
- Abby!! He answered, feeling long lost warmth entering his scarcely used heart.
Verb: Wait, House. Don’t you use your heart kinda frequently for, you know, living?
House: You’d think that, wouldn’t you, creepy Sweeney Todd lip-syncing girl.
Verb: Can we drop that already? It was two years ago!
- Hi, Adar! The girl answered with a stunning smile, entering without even asking him, as the man drank every detail of her face and body, completely forgetting his frozen ducklings in the main room
Wilson: Hey House, would you mind…(snickering) drinking my details?
House: Who the fuck is Adar?
Verb: Possibly a Trekkie pet name. No guarantees though.
Wilson: Actually, Adar is the twelfth month in the Hebrew Calendar. Why she would be saying hello to a month remains a mystery.
My, my; but look at that, you going to that black haters faculty must have done nothing good to you! You’re soooo the same shrimpy midget I had always known! The crippled man sneered with a cruel smile.
Wilson: A faculty of black haters? House, you need to choose your friends more wisely.
House: I think she meant facility…which honestly is even more frightening.
Verb: Whoa wait, black hatters? I mean, this chick has obviously whooped your ass with a baseball bat in the past, House, but that doesn’t means she’s a racist.
House: You’re right, it apparently means she’s an orthodox Jew.
Wilson: A Jew? House, you need to choose your friends more wisely.
Not fazed for a second, the young girl simply raised an eyebrow at him seemingly saying ‘oh poo is that all you got? Getting old much?’
House: “Oh Poo” Wow, she’s certainly edgy.
Shrimpy isn’t even a word, Greg… Laughed the little girl while making her way into the living room, plopping down on the sofa.
Verb: Am I the only one in distress over her unusual dialogue formatting?
Wilson: You mean that a dash isn’t the equivalent of a quotation mark?
The girl looked up and raised her eyebrows upon seeing three unidentified persons standing near the kitchen’s door, looking downright dumbstruck. The cute blonde one even having his mouth wide opened.
House: That last sentence…needs some help.
Wilson: House, she’s gonna beat them up too!
Greg? There are three dudes in your living room staring at me as if I was Serena Williams in her new tennis suit…
Verb: Hey, I do the metaphors!
House: Actually, I do the metaphors, you just do overwrought, humorless, bizarre similes that nobody understands but you, like if you could imagine a big dinosaur that used really bad similes, that’d be you.
Verb: O…kay…
Wilson: To be quite honest, I’m not sure how I’d look if I just saw Serena Williams in her new tennis suit. I mean, she’s talented, yes, but tries too hard for male attention in my opinion. The fact of the matter is, gold hoops that are two inches in diameter and high-heeled boots just aren’t practical for the tennis court.
Verb and House munch uncomfortably on popcorn.
She threw back to the crippled doctor, not taking her eyes away from the other ones who were looking back at her like gaping fishes.
Wilson: There are…some things wrong with this sentence.
House: Did she just…throw me?
- Uh? Oh yeah, those are my minions, Grumpy, Dumby and Loony… The man said coming back after having picked his cane and bottle back from the floor pointing respectively at Eric Foreman, Robert Chase and Allison Cameron.
House: It’s odd that I’d call them that…’cause I have no idea which one’s which.
Wilson: I dunno, I asked Chase for his jelly donut in the lunch line yesterday and he said no, so I’m guessing he’s Grumpy.
Verb: (quite snoodily) Well, as an active member of the imdb, I can tell you that we feel Foreman is Grumpy, considering his obvious desire to be like you, House. I mean, you’re cool, you’re hip, you give hundreds of ladies orgasms by merely taking off your jacket and revealing your biceps…what’s not to like?
Silence
Verb: I mean…Foreman’s just Grumpy!
- She calls you Greg… Whispered the ponytailed woman standing with the two others, a gasping WASP guy and a frowning black man.
Wilson: WASP? I may have to Google that shit. (opens up separate window on screen in which to Google).
Verb: See? “frowning black man!” Foreman’s obviously Grumpy!
House: WASP…as in white Anglo-Saxon Protestant? Out of all the clichéd bad!fic terms for Chase, including variations on wallaby and Captain Kangaroo, all she described him as was a white Anglo-saxon Protestant guy?
All: What the Hell?!
- Yeah, right, why? Should I call you Dr House even when I come for a personal visit? The younger girl wondered out loud, getting two horrified and one envious stares from the ‘minions’.
Wilson: I’m so envious right now, as is my stare. I wish I could get a smart ass twelve year-old murdering rapist to disrespect me in front of my peers.
Verb: I want to know which one was envious. I really, really, do.
House: I have a feeling it was Chase…I mean the WASP.
- Of course not, after all, why should you? We are in my house here! House answered with a smirk , all too enjoying the demise of his team and the devilish scheme that was for sure going on in the mixed-blood’s infernal brain.
Wilson: Do you ever get the feeling you’ve just read something incredibly racist, but can’t quite pin-point what it is?
House: It would seem that fic!me is also involved in this diabolical plot to reverse gang rape baseball teams and doctors
- Yeah, I know that, Greg… don’t forget we’ve visited all rooms in here… The girl added with a quick smile at House, looking at his spot a bit behind her.
Verb: Excuse me while I throw up.
House: You can’t, Wilson just threw up all over both bathrooms.
Verb: Both bathrooms? I’m…strangely impressed.
- Oh I don’t think I can ever forget that…
- Oh darn; how rude I am, really! My name is Abby, Abby Shatner… Nice to meet my dear Greg’s troops.
Suddenly, a very grumpy William Shatner appears seemingly out of nowhere.
William Shatner: That’s it, I’m changing my name.
Cameron eyed the teen with a dark glare. How could she succeed where she had failed for more than two years by simply appearing here? And who was she?
Wilson: That is…so creepy.
House: I dunno, seeing Cameron duke it out with a teenaged girl sounds pretty sexy actually.
The young doctor knew she wasn’t that plain, and even could be pretty. She had tried to attract the famous diagnostician’s attention since the first day she had laid an eye on him, yet… after an awkward single date, their relationship never really evolved to anything!
Verb: Never really evolved to anything! Except eyeing teenagers with dark glares, and internally plotting their downfalls!
House: Why are we yelling!
Wilson: House, just how awkward was that date with Cameron?
House: Well, I told her she was plain, but that she could even be pretty if she started stalking me. The rest, as they say…
And she discovered that this silly 12 or 13 year-old shared the same complicity with House that Wilson… Because it was there!
Wilson: Is that true House?
House: Oh totally. When you’re busy I just go down to the middle school and hang out with all the misunderstood pre-teens. We exchange emo poems and vent about how no one understands us.
She could see in his annoyed glance, in his sneer… hell, even in his smirks and sniping remarks that he cared about her! And the innuendos… could he? Could he really share his bed with a freaking teenager?
Wilson: Well, seeing as she’s apparently as close to House as I am, I’d guess it’s more than that. Buttsex, I reckon.
House: After all, nothing says I love you like ‘I hate you.’
He was just as bad as Chase was!
Verb: Yeah, I’d say a comforting kiss to a scared, dying girl is about on par with statutory rape involving baseball bats.
Chase didn’t know what to do… he could laugh about all that if it wasn’t a bit serious! Frankly, discovering House’s ‘little friend’ was funny in a twisted way!
House: So many exclamation marks!
Wilson: So, did Chase really discover your…little friend?
House: Well, I was getting out of the shower and…
Verb: He twisted it? That man really is sick!
And here the man had the guts to make fun of him after the history with Andy? At least he wasn’t a sugar daddy for a freaking 12 year-old!
House: Wait, so first I was just as bad as Chase, then Chase turned into a horrible penis-twisting monster, now it’s bad for me to bring that up?
Wilson: Shh, you can’t bring that up!
Oh that story wasn’t going to end well, he knew it… what if Cuddy learnt it?
Verb: By golly, if Cuddy learnt such a thing she would surely be angry, ain’t she pa? She stir up a mighty fuss among them ducklings.
Paedophilia to be added to drug-addicted, unethical, hazardous, dangerously intelligent, inconsiderate, mean, sarcastic… oh great… his boss doomed him to a life of low jobs… he could see that from here ‘you know that’s Chase, he worked with that House-guy, yeah that one… sure he’s as mad as his former employer…’ Jeez, he was so dead…
House: Don’t forget ‘Dangerously Cheesy!’
Foreman’s brain was running wild. ‘What the f…?’
Wilson: What the ferret?
He had done only one racial remark so far and it wasn’t even really that hurtful!
House: Oh my bad, let me look up some more offensive ones.
Wilson: I feel like author!person is always yelling at us! And it hurts my feelings!
Had he lost his touch? Was she a mini-House in making?
House: I’d definitely say she’s a mini-me. After all, I started out raping baseball teams and having sex with people four times my age, then I graduated to simple snark and saving lives.
Oh crap,
All: Yes.
was she his girlfriend? No way… not… Holy Hannah;
V.O Chick From The Soup: It’s Miley!
that man surely was many things but… sexually deviant toward children and teens? Well there had been that time with that 18 year-old… no… no he didn’t try anything with her… did he?
Verb: Well, there had been that time with that armadillo…
Wilson: But you didn’t try anything with the armadillo…
House: Did I?
Wilson: Did you?
Verb: Are we finshed yet?
At the living room’s other side, House was all too enjoying the frozen looks on his team faces. Oh hell, that was just too damn good! At least it relieved him of some of his headache.
Wilson: Is the living room alive?
Verb: The name would certainly make sense if that were the case.
House: Oh right, I have a headache. I forgot with all the molestation, sentence fragments, and whatnot. But yeah, frozen faces are too damn good! They remind me of strokes, ad I love strokes.
Even if he knew too well another even bigger was profiling in the horizon with the name ‘Abby’ tattooed all over it.
God: So I got this tattoo. It says Abby; let me know what you think.
Wilson: And where exactly is your tattoo, God?
God: Mind your business, James, or I’ll kill the girlfriend you don’t even have yet.
Now, now, kiddies, not that you’re bothering or anything, but you are actually bothering, and this young lady shouldn’t be anywhere but in a bed, so out of my house, pronto! House exclaimed tapping joyously with his cane as the other doctors made their ways to get out.
House: Because in the event that my team suspects I’m a child molester, chances are they’ll be on their way when I tell them to scram.
He waited long enough for them to be on his porch and with a quick goodbye slammed the door on their faces.
The three others looked at each other in disbelief and an awkward silence instated as they could hear high pitch laughter from inside then followed by a silence.
Verb: House is…still a man, is he not? That high pitched laughter sure threw me for a loop.
House: Double, double toil and trouble; fire burn and cauldron bubble.
I’m not sure I even want to know… Foreman sighed, shaking his head. I’m not staying here to see anyway! See you tomorrow!
Wilson: Really, because I’d stay to see. You know, since rape is such a humorous subject and all, and I have no interest in stopping it or alerting the authorities…but maybe that’s just me.
Verb: And…nobody finds it concerning that we’ll never know if House is a child molester? I mean, you think that’s something they’ll bring up in passing during season six?
House: Well Verb, as it’s been well established, it’s no big deal. I mean, if you want to cry to Oprah about it, feel free to do so, but I see absolutely no plot holes deeper than the Mariana Trench here. None whatsoever.
Chase mumbled something similar before going, leaving quite a pissed off Cameron behind as she glared daggers at House’s door.
House: Hey found this note from Cameron outside my door. It says “Dear House, here’s some daggers I glared at. Thought I’d leave them here at your door just in case. Hugs and kisses, Cameron.”
She didn’t know how long she stayed there under his porch but when she came back to reality, she shook herself
All: EPILEPSY!
and got to her car, planning to go and find some good stress reliever somewhere…
Wilson: I’ve heard gang rape with baseball bats is a good stress reliever. Dot dot dot.
Review if you dare 8D
Verb: Dear Author!Person. Child Molestation is wrong. Even wronger is writing about it like it’s not wrong, as we readers get the idea that you think it’s okay. I know you wrote this because you want to do House, but it’s not happening. Bmax called dibs and is waiting for permission from her hubby. You’re welcome to wait in line until you aren’t 12 anymore.
House: Welp, that was fun.
Wilson: You know what’s even more fun?
House: Sex without young children?
Wilson: Bingo.
House: My apartment, ten minutes.
