Table of Contents [Report This]
Disclaimer: Okay, I give up. I don't own them (more's the pity). I'm not making any money from this. Please don't sue me (you'll spoil the friendship J)
A/N: This little vignette is a response to Tiffany's Parker and Lyle challenge. I even managed to get everything in woohoo! All the quotes are in bold. Let me know what you think.
Men Say The Darndest Things
By Melanie-Anne
Lyle was having a remarkably good day considering that it was a Monday and that he worked for a corporation run by Lucifer himself. He didn't quite know why he was in such high spirits but days like this were few and far between and he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. Which, as it turned out, was only for another seven minutes and twenty seconds.
His sister burst into the office without knocking and came to stand in front of his desk with her hands on her hips, in full battle mode.
"Morning, sunshine," he said pleasantly.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Parker asked.
"About?" Lyle acted surprised.
"You know Jarod is my priority. Bad things tend to happen when you get involved. Ever think that was a sign to stick your nose elsewhere?"
"Is there any way we can do this via email?" he asked, not in the mood for serious issues at this early hour.
"What?! Have you lost your mind? That guy who got shot was an FBI agent, Lyle! If they start sniffing around here-"
"You're just upset because your butt is beginning to spread."
Parker's jaw dropped. She was at a loss for words.
"I'm busy now," Lyle continued and started a new game of solitaire. "Don't you have some laundry to do or something?"
"Lyle, I suggest that if you want to keep your remaining thumb, you think very seriously about how you're going to explain this little…incident to the Triumvirate," Parker said, turning to leave.
As she got to the door, Lyle spoke again. "Wait a minute – I get it. What time of the month is it?" He knew he was really pushing his luck now but couldn't help it. He was on a roll. And how often was he granted the luxury of rendering his sister speechless? He decided to have some more fun. "Oh, I forgot. You're always like this."
"Then you should know that annoying me is a bad idea. Watch yourself, Lyle, or you'll be the next body waiting to be explained."
"Ooh, looks like someone had an extra bowl of bitch flakes this morning!"
Parker smiled. Fine, if Lyle wanted to play dirty, so be it.
"Yep, extra crunchy," she replied. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."
"I'm curious, Parker, dear. You say that bad things happen when I try to help-"
"Help?" she scoffed.
He held up a finger, signaling for her to be quiet. "But the closest we ever get to catching Jarod is when I tag along. Why do you suppose that is? Maybe you should think about wearing suitable clothes. Running in stilettos can hardly be comfortable. Then again, what would I know about that? Maybe you should consult the great Oprah on this one."
Parker rolled her eyes. "Lyle, if you knew anything, you'd know that Oprah is a talk show host, not a fashion advisor. That is, if you could tear yourself away from Jerry Springer to concentrate on an actual talk show."
"You still haven't answered my question."
"Which was?"
"Why can't you catch Jarod?"
"Gee, Lyle, I don't know." Her words dripped venom. "Maybe because he doesn't want to be caught."
"Or maybe because you don't want to catch him," Lyle smirked.
"If there's a point do you think you could reach it before Christmas?"
"You're in love with him," he said matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Parker needed a cigarette, a drink, anything to take the edge off of her anger. Lyle had struck too close for comfort this time. In a matter of seconds she was behind his chair, holding a gun to his head.
He had the nerve to laugh at her. "Who are you kidding? We both know that thing ain't loaded."
"How much of a gambling man are you?" she hissed.
He didn't answer, looking at her with a naughty smile on his face. Even though he knew he was playing with his life here, he couldn't bring himself to stop. Maybe he was a gambling man, after all.
"What was that you said?" he asked. "Sorry, I was just picturing you naked."
Parker cocked the gun. Lyle had really gone too far this time. As far as she was concerned she'd be doing the world a favor.
"Angel! What are you doing?" Mr. Parker asked, walking into the room.
"Getting rid of the trash," she answered calmly.
"Aw, you are so cute when you get all pissed off," Lyle said.
"What's your dying wish, Lyle?" Parker asked.
"Angel, no."
Parker sighed, then reholstered her gun. She smiled. "We were just playing, Daddy."
"Yeah, a little brother/sister bonding," Lyle added, avoiding the glare Parker shot in his direction.
"I have work to do." Parker left quickly, before she gave in to her urge to shoot him for real.
Mr. Parker shook his head. "Do you think for one second that she wouldn't have shot you?"
Lyle shrugged. "Well, now we'll never know, will we?"
"Lyle-"
"Whoa, time out," Lyle said, glancing at his watch. "Football is on." He picked up the remote and switched on the TV in the corner of the office.
Mr. Parker gave up. Maybe he should have left his daughter shoot Lyle, he mused as he left.
~*~
Well, that's that. Admittedly not my best work but good enough for a laugh, I hope. Let me know what you thought.
A/N: This little vignette is a response to Tiffany's Parker and Lyle challenge. I even managed to get everything in woohoo! All the quotes are in bold. Let me know what you think.
Men Say The Darndest Things
By Melanie-Anne
Lyle was having a remarkably good day considering that it was a Monday and that he worked for a corporation run by Lucifer himself. He didn't quite know why he was in such high spirits but days like this were few and far between and he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. Which, as it turned out, was only for another seven minutes and twenty seconds.
His sister burst into the office without knocking and came to stand in front of his desk with her hands on her hips, in full battle mode.
"Morning, sunshine," he said pleasantly.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Parker asked.
"About?" Lyle acted surprised.
"You know Jarod is my priority. Bad things tend to happen when you get involved. Ever think that was a sign to stick your nose elsewhere?"
"Is there any way we can do this via email?" he asked, not in the mood for serious issues at this early hour.
"What?! Have you lost your mind? That guy who got shot was an FBI agent, Lyle! If they start sniffing around here-"
"You're just upset because your butt is beginning to spread."
Parker's jaw dropped. She was at a loss for words.
"I'm busy now," Lyle continued and started a new game of solitaire. "Don't you have some laundry to do or something?"
"Lyle, I suggest that if you want to keep your remaining thumb, you think very seriously about how you're going to explain this little…incident to the Triumvirate," Parker said, turning to leave.
As she got to the door, Lyle spoke again. "Wait a minute – I get it. What time of the month is it?" He knew he was really pushing his luck now but couldn't help it. He was on a roll. And how often was he granted the luxury of rendering his sister speechless? He decided to have some more fun. "Oh, I forgot. You're always like this."
"Then you should know that annoying me is a bad idea. Watch yourself, Lyle, or you'll be the next body waiting to be explained."
"Ooh, looks like someone had an extra bowl of bitch flakes this morning!"
Parker smiled. Fine, if Lyle wanted to play dirty, so be it.
"Yep, extra crunchy," she replied. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day."
"I'm curious, Parker, dear. You say that bad things happen when I try to help-"
"Help?" she scoffed.
He held up a finger, signaling for her to be quiet. "But the closest we ever get to catching Jarod is when I tag along. Why do you suppose that is? Maybe you should think about wearing suitable clothes. Running in stilettos can hardly be comfortable. Then again, what would I know about that? Maybe you should consult the great Oprah on this one."
Parker rolled her eyes. "Lyle, if you knew anything, you'd know that Oprah is a talk show host, not a fashion advisor. That is, if you could tear yourself away from Jerry Springer to concentrate on an actual talk show."
"You still haven't answered my question."
"Which was?"
"Why can't you catch Jarod?"
"Gee, Lyle, I don't know." Her words dripped venom. "Maybe because he doesn't want to be caught."
"Or maybe because you don't want to catch him," Lyle smirked.
"If there's a point do you think you could reach it before Christmas?"
"You're in love with him," he said matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Parker needed a cigarette, a drink, anything to take the edge off of her anger. Lyle had struck too close for comfort this time. In a matter of seconds she was behind his chair, holding a gun to his head.
He had the nerve to laugh at her. "Who are you kidding? We both know that thing ain't loaded."
"How much of a gambling man are you?" she hissed.
He didn't answer, looking at her with a naughty smile on his face. Even though he knew he was playing with his life here, he couldn't bring himself to stop. Maybe he was a gambling man, after all.
"What was that you said?" he asked. "Sorry, I was just picturing you naked."
Parker cocked the gun. Lyle had really gone too far this time. As far as she was concerned she'd be doing the world a favor.
"Angel! What are you doing?" Mr. Parker asked, walking into the room.
"Getting rid of the trash," she answered calmly.
"Aw, you are so cute when you get all pissed off," Lyle said.
"What's your dying wish, Lyle?" Parker asked.
"Angel, no."
Parker sighed, then reholstered her gun. She smiled. "We were just playing, Daddy."
"Yeah, a little brother/sister bonding," Lyle added, avoiding the glare Parker shot in his direction.
"I have work to do." Parker left quickly, before she gave in to her urge to shoot him for real.
Mr. Parker shook his head. "Do you think for one second that she wouldn't have shot you?"
Lyle shrugged. "Well, now we'll never know, will we?"
"Lyle-"
"Whoa, time out," Lyle said, glancing at his watch. "Football is on." He picked up the remote and switched on the TV in the corner of the office.
Mr. Parker gave up. Maybe he should have left his daughter shoot Lyle, he mused as he left.
~*~
Well, that's that. Admittedly not my best work but good enough for a laugh, I hope. Let me know what you thought.
