Walls

Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: This makes me laugh whole-heartedly.


Mary walked into Andy’s New York hotel room to find him on his knees with his ear pressed to the left-hand wall.
“What are you doing?”
Andy touched a finger to his lips and waved her over. She crouched down beside him.
“Stewart and Kelsi just got back from a date and I think…” Andy paused, listening intently to the wall, then continued in a soft, conspiratorial voice, “I think he’s going to make his move.”
Mary gasped, and then frowned.
“And you’re going to listen in?”
“Yes,” answered Andy, innocently.
“Andy,” said Mary, disapprovingly.
“I just want to make sure my mate gets his piece, don’t you want the same for your mate? And these walls are paper-thin; I would have heard everything anyway.”
“You’re a sick man”
Suddenly, Andy perked up.
“Oh! Listen, listen!” he said in an excited whisper.
Mary cupped her ear to the wall. On the other side she could hear Stewart’s voice; he was speaking in a language that was unfamiliar to her; graceful and lilting. When he finished, she heard Kelsi say something low in an appreciative tone. Mary turned to Andy, who was trying hard not to laugh.
“Was that…”
“Arabic?” he finished for her, “Yes. He does that every time.”
"Every time? What do you…”
Suddenly, the door to Andy’s room opened and Sting walked in. He paused for a moment to take in the sight of Andy and Mary crouching on the floor by the wall, and then joined them.
“You missed the Arabic bit,” said Andy.
“Damn. That’s my favorite part,” Sting bemoaned.
Mary stared at the two men, nonplussed.
“Do you two… do this often?” Mary ventured.
“Well, sometimes Stewart gets a room across the hall from us. Those nights we just, you know, watch the telly or something,” answered Sting, getting into a comfortable position.
“Do you do this to each other?”
“No, just Stewart,” said Andy, “It’s pretty fascinating, really.”
“Like watching giant pandas in the wild,” mused Sting.
“Slow night, though,” Andy said, checking his watch, “They’ve barely said a word to each other. I think its nerves.”
“Know what I think?” said Sting solemnly, “I think he’s going to strike out.”
“No!” Andy said, disgusted, “He’s crazy for that girl.”
“That’s just it. She’s not some tart of the road, he likes her so he’s psyching himself out. He’s going to say or do something stupid and scare her off.”
“No way, that boy’s a right catch,” argued Andy, “And I know for a fact that Kelsi fancies him quite a bit.”
“I will bet you money that nothing happens.”
“How much?”
Sting pulled out some change from his back pocket and counted it quickly.
“Eighty-four cents.”
“Done! And you have to tell me where you hid my demo tape.”
“Fine.”
“And Stewart has no idea that you two do this?” Mary asked as Andy and Sting shook hands.
“Stewart is surprisingly unobservant,” answered Andy.
“Yeah. Kelsi, too,” Mary said after a moment’s thought.
“And he’ll sleep though anything,’ added Sting, “But that’s a different story.”
Andy snorted.
The three potential voyeurs crouched in silence for several seconds. Finally, they heard Stewart ask Kelsi if she’d like a drink.
“No! She wants sex!” Andy snarled through gritted teeth, “Fuck her stupid, Stewart!”
“No, Stewart!” whispered Sting, “She wants to learn about the embalming methods used during Middle Kingdom Egypt!”
“Sex!”
“Death!”
“There’s something profoundly wrong with you two,” Mary observed.
“Hey,” said Andy, cheekily, “You’re the one listening in on your girlfriend about to be taken advantage of by our drummer. What’s up with that?”

On the other side of the wall, Stewart examined his drink. Too much ice, he thought. He turned to watch Kelsi nurse her own beverage. He edged a bit closer to her on the couch. He tried to think of something to say. He’d already exhausted ancient Egyptian embalming practices at dinner, a topic she was well versed in, unbeknownst to him. He scanned the quiet hotel room. Was it too early to rip a phonebook in half? Perhaps it was already too late. What do we have in common? He watched her chew thoughtfully on a cherry stem. We’re both left-handed, that’s rather interesting. Then he remembered something that she’d mentioned a few days ago.
“You said you were in drum corp. during college?”
Kelsi turned to him and smiled.
“Yes, I was. And marching band in high school.”
“I’d love to hear about.”
Kelsi immediately launched into marching techniques, show themes, practicing in college parking lots during the summer, performing at football games during the fall, traveling to competitions all along the east coast, learning and helping to teach tonal bass parts (she’d had been a bass drummer), uniforms, the strange fraternal qualities that marching percussion lines often exhibited, and so on.



Andy and Sting looked quizzically at Mary.
“Marching band?” asked Sting.
“Yeah,” said Mary. “We both did it, I was in color guard.”
Before Sting had chance to reply, the happy chatter on the other side of the wall was abruptly cut off. For several long seconds there was silence. Mary, Andy and Sting stared blankly at the wall and then at each other, not sure what to think.


Stewart carefully parted lips with Kelsi. He watched as she took a deep breath, mouth still open with surprise. She focused her eyes on him. He grinned sheepishly. Perhaps I shouldn’t have interrupted her mid-sentence. But, after a moment of uncertainty on his part, she began to smile broadly. She leaned foreword and kissed him back, with gusto.


Mary jumped at the sound of Stewart’s couch bumping against the wall. Then, silence. All three strained their ears. Faintly, they heard a girlish gasp which was followed, even more so faintly, by a girlish giggle. Another loud thud as the couch bumped the wall.
“I think we’re done here,” Said Mary, blushing.
The three straightened and began to move about the room. Andy smiled up at Sting.
“You owe me some pocket change.”
Sting sighed and handed Andy the coinage.
“Your tape is in the A &M Records studio garden…”
Sting gave a sly grin.
“In London.” He finished.
“Damn it,” said Andy, defeated. “Oh, well.”
He looked at the change in his hand.
“I’m going to buy some Junior Mints,” he announced.
Andy turned to Mary, giving her a “join me?” look. She rolled her eyes and sighed good-naturedly. They left the room together.

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Can't Stand Losing You

Rating:PG
Author's Notes: This one's a long'un.



So, I was stuck with my family on yet another vacation that my father affectionately, and incorrectly, dubbed “Family Bonding Experience Part 3”. Parts one and two had miserably failed at the hands of disease and disaster, respectively. This time, though, my father claimed that it was fool-proof and that it would be perfect for family bonding. He had booked us for a week in a villa in Montserrat, a place riddled with sun, surf, and scrumptious island boys (my father had said something different than the island boys, but I decided to fill in my own idea of fun.).
As soon as we set foot on the island, I had a wave of mixed feelings. I was disgusted at the though of spending a week with my parents and two younger brothers, but I was completely ecstatic to check out the beautiful scenery. The mountains stretched as far as I could see, and the water was the most beautiful shade of blue that I had ever seen.
We unpacked in about an hour (it took me this long because my little brothers kept sneaking in my room and stealing my stuff), then I decided that I wanted to hit the beach before dinner. I slipped on my bathing suit and put my towel under my arm. I slipped on my flip flops by the door, yelled to my mom where I was going, and slid out the back door. I walked past the pool (I could swim in a pool back at home, but I can’t swim at the beach), through the gate, and down the fifty foot path to the beach. There was no one in sight when I got there, so I spread out my towel and basked in the late-afternoon sun. Despite the fleeting sunlight, it was still rather warm, and I was feeling happy.
Suddenly, I heard voices to my left. I leaned up on my elbows and looked over. There, setting up volleyball net, was all three members of The Police, their manager Miles, and road manager Kim. I shielded my eyes from the setting sun so that I could be sure that it was, indeed, really them. I saw Stewart turn around and look at me. I didn’t know what to do: should I look away the way I would if it were someone in class, should I wave, or should I not do anything? Well, luckily I didn’t have to think about it much longer, since within a few seconds he was making his way over to me. When he got to my blanket, he squatted down to my height and extended his hand.
“Hi, I’m Stewart Copeland.” I shook his hand and smiled like a buffoon.
“Oh, I know. I’m Mary.” He smiled at me, and I melted. I had always had a bit of a celebrity crush on him, which was only made bigger when he flashed his goofy smile.
“Are you new here?” he asked and sat down on the beach next to me and crossed his legs. This, due to his apparent short bathing suit, gave me quite an interesting view.
“Sort of. My family and I are renting a villa for a week as sort of a ‘family bonding’ thing. We’re right there,” I said and pointed behind me to the villa.
“Oh, that’s a nice one. Mine is actually right there,” he said, pointing to the villa next to mine, “and Andy’s is next to mine, with Sting next to him.” I couldn’t believe it. I was vacationing on a beautiful island, with the boys of the Police next door to me. We heard Stewart being summoned to go play volleyball, and he got up from the sand.
“Hey,” he said, brushing the sand off him, “we have an odd number of players. Do you want to come play with us?” I smiled, and nodded my head. I don’t think that I could have gotten a cohesive word or sentence out of my mouth. He held his hand down to me, and I took it, hoisting myself up. When I reached standing position, however, I continued to move forward, and I crashed heard first into his chest. We both let out an “oof”, and I looked up at him. We started at each other for a few seconds before he was called again, and we had to separate and walk over to the net.
When we got there, Stewart introduced me to the others, and they all smiled warmly at me, with Andy waving like a fool. I smiled and waved back at him.
“Ok, we need to pick teams,” Miles said. “Stewart, come over here with me. You and I will pick teams.” Stewart went over to his brother and the rest of us subconsciously lined up before them. “I’ll go first.” Miles said and eyed us all. “I pick…Kim.” He pumped his fist in the air and went to stand beside Miles.
“Sting,” Stewart said, obviously going for height. I couldn’t think of why Stewart would pick him on any other occasion.
“Andy,” Kim said and we both looked at each other, a surprised look on our faces. Apparently, we had both thought that I was going to get picked.
“Mary, I would have chosen you anyway. It’s not because you’re last, I promise,” Stewart said apologetically. I shrugged, walked over to him, and put my hand on his shoulder.
“It’s ok, really. I was never very athletic as a kid, so I’m used to it. However,” I said, turning to the rest of them, “I am quite good at volleyball.” I grinned, and they all made fake “ooh, I’m scared” noises. We laughed it off, and Miles waved us over to the net.
“Ok, it’s three on three. We play to eleven. The outside boundaries have been marked in the sand by Andy’s dainty toes.” We laughed and said various deviations of “ok, let’s play.” Miles served the ball, and it came gracefully sailing over to our side. Stewart was on the left, I was in the middle, and Sting was on the right. I don’t know if they purposely separated themselves, or if it just happened this way. The game started off like a normal game, with both sides equally scoring. After about twenty minutes, the score was 7 to 5, them. Stewart had called a time-out for a game-plan huddle. We formed a circle, arms on each other’s shoulders.
“Ok, look, we can’t let them win this. We may have the height,” Stewart said, “But they seem to have the agility. Kim can zip around that beach like it’s nobody’s business. We have the power, as displayed by Sting-o’s killer arm muscles. However, they seem to have some sort of strategy, otherwise we would be winning. We have to get our heads in the game, people! Ok? Break!” he walked away from the circle with Sting and me looking very confused. We had no idea what the point of that speech was, but we went along with it. When we all resumed our positions, Kim served the ball. It went back and forth a few times with no real events. However, one time when it came our way, it was headed directly between Stewart and me. We dove for it, crashed mid-air, and landed on the ground. When I finally opened my eyes again, I was looking up right into Stewart’s green-brown eyes. He was lying on top of me, apparently which was right where he had landed. His curls had flopped down around his head and created a beautiful halo.
“Are…are you…ok?” he asked. I nodded and smiled.
“Yeah, I’m ok. We just collided hard, is all.”
“Oh, good. I’m glad you’re not hurt,” he said and laughed. I melted again at his goofy smile. He rolled off me, stood up, and helped me up again. We brushed ourselves off, and Sting picked up the volleyball. Once we were all situated again, he served the ball. Another ten or so minutes later, we had lost, 11 to 8. It was ok, because I had ample time to flirt with Stewart. We were kicking sand at each other, pushing each other out of the way, and laughing. It was obvious that I liked him, but I wondered if the others, if not Stewart himself, could see if he liked me.
“Well, good game, guys,” Miles said as him and Sting took down the net. “Same time tomorrow?” everyone nodded in agreement. “How about you Mary?” he asked me. I looked around from person to person and smiled. How could I turn down a volleyball game with them? I nodded furiously and told them that they could count on seeing me here tomorrow. They cheered and I smiled at them.
“Hey,” Stewart said putting his arm around my shoulder, “it gets dark in about an hour, so I was wondering if you wanted to take a little walk down the beach before it gets too dark.” He smiled down at me, but it wasn’t his usual goofy grin. It was one that made me go giggly even more than the goofy one; it was one that said “I have something fun in mind, I can’t wait, and I know you can’t either.”
“Yeah, that would be fun.”
“Good,” he said and walked me back towards my villa. “This is the more beautiful way, trust me.”
“Oh, I do.” I said smiling. We walked for a little bit in silence, just listening to the waves and the distant villa sounds.
“So,” Stewart said, finally breaking the silence, “Where are you from?”
“Massachusetts. It’s not even close enough to Boston to be cool,” I said sadly.
“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“Yeah, it’s not too bad. I guess it’s just a case of the grass is greener on the other side. I always wished that I lived anywhere else than where I am now.”
“Well, one day, you will be famous, then you’ll get to see all the places I’ve seen.” He smiled at me, and I returned the action. We stopped at a desolate spot on the beach, and turned to watch the sun set. He held me close, and I put my arms around him. We stood there, holding each other, watching the sunset.
“You know,” he said looking down at me, “I know we’ve only just met, but I feel something towards you that I have never felt for anyone else before.” He smiled, non-goofily, down at me. I suddenly realized that my celebrity crush on him had developed into a real, full-out love. He was adorable, funny, talented, and he liked me, too.
“I feel the same way. I think we definitely have something between us,” I said, and I ran my fingers up his chest. He leaned down, and I leaned up. We met around half way and kissed passionately on the lips. I heard waves crashing around me, but this time they were real waves. I always heard about people seeing fireworks or hearing waves at their first kiss, but this time, the waves were real. However, they may as well have been in my head, because the whole thing seemed surreal. When we finally pulled apart, the sun was almost completely set. We kissed a few more times before I told him that I should be getting back to my family. We were holding each other all the way back to my villa. The mood, however, was completely shattered when we saw my mother on the beach, talking to Miles, absolutely freaking out. When we came into sight, Miles pointed in our direction, and my mother spun around furiously. She came marching up to us, a fire in here eyes.
“Where the hell were you?!” she yelled at me. I subconsciously held on tighter to Stewart, half out of fear and half to use him as a shield.
“I…I…I went for a walk down the beach.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?!”
“I, I don’t know.” I said. She was enraged at me.
“And who is this man you’re with?! Do you even know him?!”
“Yes, mother, I do. This is Stewart Copeland. He’s the drummer in the Police.”
“A musician?!” she exclaimed. I had forgotten that she shunned any relationships with musicians in the family after a guitar player broke her heart in the forties.
“Yes.”
“And if it makes a difference,” Stewart said, “I like your daughter, a lot. And she likes me. I would never cause her any harm, if that’s what you’re afraid of.” My mother’s emotions didn’t change at all.
“Well, I’m sorry to say, but you won’t be seeing her again. Mary, get in the house. You’re not leaving the house at all for the rest of the week.” I threw an absolute fit. I cried, I clung to Stewart, and he clung to me. Sting even came over to try to reason with her, but it did nothing. She ended up dragging me away by the arm as I frantically waved to Stewart. I think I saw a tear in his eye, but I can’t be sure.

----------

For the rest of the week, I was kept inside the villa. I was allowed to go out to the pool to swim and sunbathe, but that was because it was fenced in. From time to time, I would see Stewart walk by the front window, looking to catch a glimpse of me. I would see him walk by, but my father would always be sitting next to the window, so I couldn’t get over to wave to him. One day, as my family was all on the beach, I heard a soft knock on the front door. I walked over to the it, and opened it to find Stewart standing there. I immediately enveloped him in a giant hug, and he kissed me square on the lips. We held each other for a minute before he urgently pulled us apart.
“Come away with me,” he said, looking right into my eyes.
“Where? Go with you to where?”
“England. We finished the album, and we’re going back to England to remix it, then we’re going on tour. Please, come with me. I can’t stand to be without you. I guess you could say, I can’t stand loosing you.” We both chuckled, but it couldn’t lighten our mood.
“I can’t. My mother would legally disown me, my father would stop talking to me, and plus, everything I own is back in Massachusetts.” He looked sadder than a little boy who had just broken his new toy. I hugged him again, and he held me tight. He kissed the top of my head, stroked my hair, and then he lifted my head so he could kiss me on the lips. Just then, my mother walked into the room. She dropped her water bottle that she had come in to refill.
“Get out of my house you creep!” she yelled at him. She picked up the nearest objects she could find and started throwing them at him.
“One day,” Stewart said, covering his head and walking out the door, “I’ll find you! I promise, one day I’ll find you!” when he walked out that door, I didn’t believe that he would ever be able to find me. I never told him my last name, or my town. How would he find me? I hoped, though, that he still would.

----------
Twenty five or so years later, I was standing in the front row at Fenway Park. It was 2007, and the Police had gotten back together. The whole show, I was as close as humanly possible, and I was watching Stewart’s every move. I thought that he saw me once, but I didn’t know for sure. He was older of course, as was I, and he had glasses, as did I; who knows if he saw me or not.
One thing was for sure, though: my friend’s brother-in-law was the head security guard, and he promised to get me backstage. So, when the show was done, I went right over to him and gave him a big hug. He looked around suspiciously, then quickly ushered me to the backstage area. He got me to the dressing room door, and then walked away, leaving me to my own devices. I knocked on the door, and I was told, by Stewart of course, to come in. When I walked in that room and I met eyes with Stewart, we both broke down and ran into each other’s arms. We were crying tears of joy and hugging like the world was crashing down upon us.
“It’s been decades!” he exclaimed, kissing me on the forehead.
“I know! I’ve missed you so much! Every time your songs come on the radio, I cry, thinking about how much I’ve missed you.” We sat down on the couch, and we spent two whole hours catching up. We both found that we were currently single, and we decided to date, like we would have way back then. I went on tour with him, and we were just like it was back on the beaches in Montserrat. There was one distinct difference, though: my mother wasn’t around.

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"I was wondering..."

Rating: G (Oh yeah... it's fluff.)
Author's Note: This is fricken adorable =)



That’s the third time he’s tapped me on the shoulder. I thought as I hastily scribbled down the notes from the board. If I turn around, he’s going to talk to me, and not stop. I continued writing, and I felt the tap again. I’m going to get in trouble, I just know it, I thought. However, I let my better judgment slide as I put down my pencil and turned around.
“Yes?” I asked Stewart.
“I was wondering,” he said, fiddling with his pencil. “If you, erm, if you – ”
“Stewart?” the teacher called.
“Yes?” he asked timidly, looking like a startled deer.
“Is there a problem?” she pulled her glasses down her nose.
“Umm, no, there isn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, yes I am.”
“May I continue teaching my class then?”
“Yes.” He said quietly.
“Thank you.” She went back to the board and started writing notes again. I turned back around in my chair and resumed copying them down. I heard Stewart furiously scribble something down on his paper behind me. I assumed he was catching up on the notes, until I felt him tap me on the shoulder. I sighed and turned around again.
“What?” I whispered, watching the teacher out of the corner of my eye. He slid a folded piece of lined paper to me and I took it, turning back around. I unfolded the note, and saw what he wrote to me, in his scrawled, frantic handwriting:
“I was wondering, do you like food? Check ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”
I could barely keep myself from laughing. It was such a typical drummer thing to do. However, I played along, ticked ‘yes’, folded it up, and passed it back to him. I heard his scribble some more, then he tapped me again. I turned around, took the note, and turned back. Underneath my ticked answer, he had scribbled:
“Well, then, do you want to go out to get something to eat with me today?”
I turned around to face Stewart. He was grinning from ear-to-ear, goofily, and his braces were shining off the fluorescent lighting. I couldn’t help but smile back as I leaned on his desk and wrote “yes :)” within his view. I passed it back to him, unfolded, and watched his eyes light up as he read my response. He looked up at me, grinned again, and started laughing, almost giggling, quietly, under his breath.
“Stewart?”
“I’m sorry, I’ll stop talking,” he said, startled, to the teacher.
“You had better,” she said and turned back to the board.
“I’ll talk to you after class,” he whispered to me. I looked up at the clock, and, for the first time, I was counting down the minutes to the end of the class.

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Splish Splash

Rating: PG
Author's Note: This was actually sparked by a dream I had.


“Andy! Stop splashing me!” Mary yelled and covered her face with her hands. Further down the pool, but still in the shallow end, Andy was standing, hands cupped, splashing water at his girlfriend.
“But it’s fun!” he giggled and continued to splash her. When he finally stopped a few seconds later, Mary’s soft, curly hair had become a mess of wet, sloppy curls. She simply looked at Andy, then unleashed her Tsunami wave on him; it was something her mother taught her when she was little. He was left drenched, but simply dunked under the water and fixed his blonde hair.
“Why can’t we be a normal couple?” she asked jokingly. “You know, like Stewart and Kelsi.” As if they had been listening the whole time, Kelsi suddenly let out a shriek. Across the pool, Stewart was standing on the diving board, holding Kelsi at chest-level. She was fidgeting enough to show that she didn’t like being up there, but it wasn’t too much, meaning that she liked being that close to Stewart. Andy waved at Stewart, prompting Stewart to wave back. Now, any other observer would have called what happened next an act of stupidity. However, Andy had known what Stewart’s reaction would have been, so it was all intentional.
When Stewart waved back, he let go of Kelsi. She fell into the pool with a splash, and Stewart looked down into the pool in surprise.
“Normal?” Andy turned to Mary and asked.
“OK, maybe ‘normal’ isn’t the right word,” she replied and Stewart cried “Don’t worry Kelsi, I’ll save you!!” and he jumped into the water.
“I think ‘normal’ is the furthest from the truth,” Andy said, watching Stewart trying to drag Kelsi out of the pool and give her “mouth to mouth”.
“Plus,” Mary said, moving towards Andy, “Who wants to be normal?” she jumped on the unsuspecting Andy, knocking him backwards into the water. When they came back up to the surface, Mary was in Andy’s arms, and they were both dripping wet.
“Oh, I see,” Andy said. “This is how you want to play.” He scooped her up in his arms, lifted her as high as he could, and threw her into the deep end. She let out a little squeal before she hit the water with a bit of a thud and a splash. A few seconds later, Kelsi let out a series of shrieks as Stewart began to tickle her on the patio at the side of the pool. Stewart and Andy were laughing maniacally at their recent acts of evil, but were cut short by the sound of an angry sliding door opening. Sting appeared suddenly at the opening of the door, a sheet wrapped around his waist.
“Oy! Will you all shut up?” he yelled out the door. Everyone stopped making noise and turned to look at Sting.
“Ummm, why should we do that?” Stewart asked defiantly.
“Because it’s a bit distracting with you all out there shrieking and yelling!”
“What are you doing in there that requires so much concentration?” Andy asked, and splashed Mary a little as she made her way back into the shallow end. Before Sting had a chance to answer, a female voice called from inside the house.
“Sting? Sting, are you coming back to bed? I’m waiting.” The four at the pool all looked to each other, and suppressed a little laugh.
“Alright, alright. We’ll be quieter.” Stewart said and sat on the edge of the pool, dangling his long legs in the water.
“Thanks.” Sting said dryly and went back inside.
“How could you just let him win like that?” Andy asked and put his arms around Mary.
“I didn’t.” Stewart answered and smirked.
“What do you mean?” Mary asked. “You totally let him –” she suddenly realised that Stewart had a trick up his sleeve. Well, it actually would have been in his short shorts, but that was for Kelsi to find, not Mary.
“Come on, I’ll show you.” He said, got up, and beckoned the other three to follow into the pool house. They all walked back out a few minutes later, holding buckets and Super Soakers. They were filled up in the pool, and Stewart led the way inside the house through another door from the one Sting came out of. They stopped at his bedroom door to find it slightly opened.
“Now, Andy and I will go first, with the Super Soakers. Then Kelsi and Mary will follow closely behind, with the buckets,” Stewart whispered. He held up three fingers, counting down to one. As soon as the last finger went down, Stewart stormed into the bedroom, with Andy close behind, super soakers spraying everywhere. Sting was, luckily, not caught in the act. He was caught post-romp, making out with the mystery girl. She began screaming, and Sting was shouting angrily at the two boys. Mary and Kelsi were a few seconds behind, but soon came running into the room, buckets ablaze. They threw the buckets of water straight onto the couple, soaking whatever wasn’t wet already. After the buckets became empty, everyone was simply standing there, in a state of shock.
“You,” Sting said and pointed to Andy and Stewart, “are dead men.”
“Part two of my scheme,” Stewart said nervously, “RUN!” the four assailants ran straight out of Sting’s room, with Sting, still naked, following close behind. The two girls took a turn, and when Sting didn’t follow them, stopped running. They could, however, see and hear everything that was happening in the chase. Insults were shouted, things were thrown, and they were generally causing havoc. Finally, they ran outside, and the girls followed to see what would happen. They took their fight into the pool, still shouting, but now they had incorporated splashing into their routine.
“Will these boys ever grow up?” Mary asked Kelsi.
“I really don’t think so.”
“Yeah, me either.”

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Comparisons

Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: This was sparked from an actual argument Kelsi and I had/have.


Kelsi sighed as Mary passed over yet another one of Andy’s photos. He just had them developed, and Mary went to pick them up for him; this granted her and Kelsi, Stewart’s girlfriend, a sneak peek at them.
“I could die every time I see those lips,” Kelsi said, gazing adoringly at a picture of Stewart.
“I must admit,” Mary responded, “they are quite something.”
“Yeah, they are something, or other,” Kelsi said and the two girls started laughing.
“Oh dear, we are funny,” Mary said. “Why can’t we ever be this funny when we’re around the guys?”
“Because,” Kelsi said as she glanced over, then put aside, another picture of a tree, “we’re usually too engrossed in the boys to say anything funny. Our brains turn to mush around them, remember?”
“Yes, yes I do,” Mary sighed as she passed along a self-portrait he took, obviously in the bathroom mirror of their apartment. Kelsi laughed and took it from her.
“What colour are Andy’s eyes?” she asked and tried to make out something in the black and white photo.
“They’re a beautiful shade of blueish green.”
“Green like Stewart’s or green like a teal-ish?”
“Well,” Mary said as she quickly hid a photo of her, “since Stewart’s aren’t green, they wouldn’t be like his.” Kelsi looked at her like she had a Cacti growing out of her ear.
“What do you mean they’re not green? Of course they’re green.” Kelsi said and Mary passed another photo of Stewart over to her.
“Look,” she said, “they are obviously brown.”
“This is black and white, dumbass.” Kelsi said and fluttered the photo in front of her face. “they could be pink and you wouldn’t be able to tell.”
“Yes you would.”
“How?”
“Take David Bowie, for example – ”
“Must I?” Kelsi groaned.
“Yes. Anyway, when one sees a black and white photo of him, one can tell which eye is brown, and which isn’t.” she folded her arms defiantly.
“Of course you can, ‘cause the other one is almost white!” she exclaimed.
“Well, I still say he has brown eyes.” Mary said, not wanting to admit defeat.
“Look,” Kelsi said turning to face Mary, “I think I should know. I have gotten closer to those eyes than you have. A LOT closer.” She grinned at the thoughts running through her mind.
“Well…” Mary was trying to come up with something that she would be right at. “At least Andy has a normal sized head.” Kelsi tured around quickly and her mouth was agape.
“At least Stewart is of normal human height!”
“Andy is NOT as short as you make him out to be,” I said, wiggling my finger at her.
“He’s shorter than me,”
“Like hell he is!”
“He is, I remember,” she said defiantly. Mary deceided that she would never win, it would just turn into a “yes” “no” argument.
“At least Andy doesn’t run arund in short shorts!” Mary said.
“You know you like that.”
“Yeah, maybe I do…hey!” Mary said frowning. Kelsi laughed at her apparent lead.
“At least…err…Andy can dance!”
“ooh, that hurt,” Kelsi said, thinkning hard. “At least Stewart can write songs.”
“That’s bullshit!”
“No it’s not.”
“Andy writes wonderful songs!”
“About murder.”
“Well at least his make senese!”
“What are you going on about?”
“What the hell is ‘On Any Other Day’ about?”
“Umm…it’s his birthday,” Kelsi said. Mary put on a fade of enlightenment, just as Sting, Andy and Stewart all walked through the door. Mary and Kelsi called out urgently to the other’s boyfriend. Stewart walked over to Mary, and Andy to Kelsi.
“Come here, you,” Mary said as she grabbed Stewart by the collar. She pulled his face down to hers. He looked a combination of scared and intrigued as she looked right into his eyes. She frowned when she saw that they were, indeed, green – not brown.
“Damn.” She said, and saw that Kelsi was trying to get Andy to stand back to back with her. When she finally did, she found that she was the sorter of the two.
“Damn,” she said and walked away. Mary looked forward to find that she was still holding onto Stewart’s collar.
“Oh, sorry,” she said and let him go.
“Would you ladies care to explain what just happened?” Stewart asked. They looked at each other, then back to him.
“No,” they said simultaneously, laughing. Stewart and Andy just shrugged and walked away.
“So, they’re green. You were right,” Mary said to Kelsi. She grinned smugly.
“Yeah, and you were right. Andy is taller than me.” The two sat in silence for a minute.
“You know what I noticed,” Mary said, “that close to Stewart’s face?”
“What?”
“Those lips are indeed something, or other.” The two girls laughed heartily as the boys watched from behind the kitchen door.
“There is something seriously off with those girls,” Sting said.
“Yeah, well at least our girlfriends laugh,” Stewart said.
“At least mine can sew.”
“Mary can sew!” Andy said defensively.
“Yeah, remember what happened to those pants she hemmed for me?”
“You did the fucking splits in them!”
“Yeah, well,” Sting fumbled, “Oh fuck it, I’m making a sandwich.”

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Don't Give Up the Dye Job

Rating: PG-13


“Stewart, if you keep squirming, this peroxide is going to end up in your eyes,” Kelsi said and held Stewart’s face forward from behind. She had him in the kitchen chair, next to the sink, with an old sheet around his shoulders. He was joining his new band, The Police, and he needed to fix his dark brown hair. The rest of the boys in the band were blondes, and he needed to fit in with them.
“I’m sorry,” he said, turning to her, but she faced him back forward, “but it’s cold, and it tickles when people play with my hair.” Kelsi grabbed another clump of hair, put some foil under it, and applied the peroxide.
“Well, you’ll just have to get used to it, unless you like the pain of a stinging eye,” she said, folding the foil over. He made a noise in disagreement, and looked straight ahead. Ten minutes later, she had finished the whole back of his head, and moved onto the front. As she was leaning in to peroxide his bangs, stewart smiled at his view. She turned back around to get more foil, and Stewart reached up to surreptitiously slide off the last foil she did. It landed on the sheet, and Stewart let out an “oops”. Kelsi turned around to find the foil on the sheet and Stewart staring up at her innocently. She tisked and walked over to pick it up.
“Must have put too much peroxide in this one, and it slid out,” she said and put it back in his hair. She was leaning in right in front of his face, and he liked it. He was grinning like a fool, but forgot to stop smiling when she leaned back into a normal position.
“What are you grinning at?” she asked with her hands on her hips.
“…..Nothing…..” he said innocently, but she saw right through it.
“You bad boy,” she said, putting more peroxide in his hair. He could only continue smiling.
Twenty minutes later, Stewart was still in the chair, and Kelsi was sitting on the counter. She picked up the box and looked at the directions.
“Well, it says here that after twenty minutes it should be done,” she slid off the counter and walked over to him.
“It had better be done, we’re all out of peroxide,” he said and nudged to the bottle with his head. Kelsi nodded and started taking off the foil. She suddenly let out a gasp, and Stewart quickly turned around in his seat.
“What? What’s wrong?” Kelsi was holding her hand to her mouth, which was stuck in a mixture of surprise and amusement. She was laughing ever so quietly, buther body was jiggling with airy laughter.
“I don’t like knowing what’s going on,” Stewart said.
“See for yourself,” she said through giggles, and undid one of the foils in his bangs. The clump of hair dangled over his eyebrows, just within his view. He let out a gasp, and pulled it down further so he could fully see it. His hair had turned a bright shade of clownish orange.
“We must have needed more peroxide,” Kelsi said, undoing more foils, thus letting more of the carrot hued hair to make itself known. She couldn’t help but snicker a little; it looked rather funny.
“This is anything but funny,” he said, folding his arms across his chest.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve never seen someone with…orange hair.” She finished undoing all the foiled folds, and stood back in amazement at the sheer orangeness of his hair.
“Do you want to look in a mirror?” she asked him as she took the sheet off his shoulders.
“I guess I’ll have to at some time….” He said, standing up. They walked over to the bathroom and Kelsi opened the door. She lficked on the light, and Stewart stood in horror at the reflection in the mirror.
“I…I...I look like a fucking….carrot,” he emphasized the word “carrot” with disgust.
“Look, it will be ok for tonight, and in the morning we can go out and get you another bottle and fix this up.”
“We can’t.”
“Why not,” she asked, brushing the hair out of his face and putting her arms around his neck.
“Because I have to meet the guys tomorrow morning. We have to do an interview, a television interview. There’s no way I’m going on television looking like a fucking clown,” he was staring at himself angrily in the mirror. Kelsi reached up and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
“I’m sure we can work something out,” she said, trying to comfort him.
“What time is it?”
“I think it’s around ten.”
“Fuck. Everything’s closed.” He folded his armd in front of his chest.
“I’m sure it will be fine….” She was running out of comforting things to say to him. She couldn’t think of anything that would fix his hair tonight.
“Hey, if it’s a television show, they must have a hair stylistm right?”
“I guess so…Hey, I get where you’re going with this!” he turned to her and actually smiled. “The stylist can fix my hair that morning! You’re brilliant!” he picked her up and spun her around a few times. When he put her down, they smiled at each other, and he took her hand. They giggled their way up to the bedroom and shut the door.

------

“Oy mate, what the fuck happened to your hair?!” Kim exclaimed as Stewart walked into the studio. Sting turned around in his chair and burst out laughing. Tears were rolling down his face he was laughing so hard. Andy walked in shortly after, and repeated Sting’s exact reaction.
“It’s not that funny, guys,” Stewart said meekly.
“It bloody well is,” Sting said doubled over the arm of his chair. Stewart could only look around for the nearest hairstylist. Sensing his distress, the director of the television show came over to his side.
“You want that taken care of, skinny?” he asked, eyeing him up and down.
“The hair?”
“No, your nose; it’s hideous. Of course I mean your hair. Now, come with me and I’ll have Diane take care of you.” He whisked Stewart away to a make-up room and sat him down in the chair. Stewart explained to her what had happened, and she nodded thoughtfully.
“Ok,” she said in a think Spanish accent, “I know what to do.” Stewart sat back, and let her do what she had to do. Thirty minutes later, he was staring at a bleached blonde version of himself in the mirror. No more orange.
“Oh wow,” he said, running his hands through his hair, “how could I ever thank you?” she smiled and shook her head.
“It my job, you no need to thank me.” She smiled at him, and he was quickly dragged away by the producer.
“We go live in fifteen Stewey baby. Let’s get you on the set.” Before he could say another word, he was pushed into a fluffy chair on the set of a morning talk show with Sting to his left and Andy to his right.
“Wow, I like what she did to your hair,” Andy said.
“Yeah, not so Bozo-ish anymore,” Sting said laughing.
“Oh can it, shmuck-o.”

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