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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
List Provided By: Tiffany.
Sibling Rivalry XX
by: chopsticks
p g - 1 3
-----
Miss Parker, after nearly running down several dozen pedestrians, was now comfortably at home and had severely attacked the bottle of vodka that she found happily waiting for her to come home.
But, instead of relaxing, she was thinking about everything that had happened to Lyle over his tenure on the Retrieval Team. And, to her surprise, quite a lot had. Jarod seemed to have fun playing with Lyle, especially when it was just Lyle going out to check out a lair. She, of course, had always been extremely pissed off at her brother for running off on his own to check out a lair, but each time he came back with some new humiliation and she always ended up being glad she didn't go.
So far, though, she had only managed to come up with twelve things for her list. "And twelve things does not a good list make!" she exclaimed drunkenly, taking a hit straight out of the bottle. The light from the computer monitor made the clear liquid look like it was being warped, and she happily played around with the bottle for several minutes. She was, without a doubt, completely trashed. Which is why it took her all of four and two-fifths minutes to remember that Broots would know several things for her list, as he had been dragged along nearly all the time.
It took her another eleven and ten-elevenths minutes to remember that he was on her speed dial.
After finally figuring out how exactly the speed dial worked on her phone (another six and five-sixteenths minutes), she waited for Broots to pick up, not realizing that it was after midnight and he, being the normal person that he was, was probably asleep right then. "Hello?" he said sleepily after the ninth ring. Thankfully, his answering machine was currently out of commission, as Debbie had "accidentally" taken a baseball bat to it when her ex-boyfriend last called.
"Broots!" she exclaimed loudly, missing the glass she had been pouring the vodka into. It spilled all over her desk, but she only shrugged at the accident and placed the glass where it was dripping off of the desk.
"Miss Parker?" Broots asked in confusion. Scrambling could be heard through the line as Broots attempted to look at his alarm clock while tied to the phone cord. Finally getting a glimpse of the clock, he spoke into the phone again, "Is everything all right? It's after midnight!"
"Is it?" Miss Parker inquired, slurring slightly. She glanced at the clock on her computer, a look of surprise passing across her features. "Oh! So it is! Did I wake you?"
"Um, just a bit. What did you need?" Broots asked, irritated at being awoken by a drunk Miss Parker in the middle of the night. Only figures it would happen on the day that he had a meeting at seven the next morning.
"I need you to. . . Umm. . ." She blinked several times, trying to remember what it was she called him about. A quick glance at her computer screen reminded her right away. "Oh, right! I need your help with a list!"
"Oh, God. . ." he mumbled on the other end, placing his forehead on one of his hands. "Now?" he asked, desperately hoping she'd let it go until the morning.
"Yes, now, Broots! You saw what he did to me in that rotunda!" she protested, shouting loudly.
Broots, of course, clearly remembered the rotunda business. He restrained his laughter for fear that Miss Parker would fire him in her drunken delirium.
"All right, all right," he soothed, flipping on the lamp next to him, his laughter under control. "What do you need?"
"I need some ideas for things that my dear brother has learned from trying to capture Jarod." She took another hit off of the bottle, giving up on the glass for the moment.
"Oh, well that's easy enough. I can think of several right off the top of my head."
"Excellent!" she proclaimed, sitting up straighter and poised to type. "Do tell!"
And did he. He told her so many stories it made her head spin, but she diligently recorded the lessons Lyle learned each time. When she thought she had enough, she told Broots what her, as she referred to it as, Grand, Super-Master Plan was.
"That's not too hard," he said, his mind already spinning on the different ways to do what she asked.
"Good! Glad to hear it!"
"Just send it to me via e-mail. I'll go and do it now," he said, standing up and shuffling toward his computer terminal.
"Excellent! Broots, I'm sending the e-mail to you now," she said, clicking the send button in her e-mail program. "Now, don't forget to do exactly what I told you." And with that final declaration, she hung up and slammed the remaining vodka in her glass. She leaned back and stretched out happily.
Tonight was definitely a good night.
-----
Mr. Lyle, who was still up at this late hour, was shopping for a new wife online.
No, really. He was.
In fact, he was right in the midst of a rather. . .erotic fantasy when his e-mail alert popped up on screen.
"Damn it," he mumbled, annoyed at the interruption. He was just getting to the best part too. He clicked on it, nearly jamming his finger onto the button, sending a resonating click throughout the sterile apartment.
He didn't recognize the e-mail address, but the subject line caught his eye:
Things Mr. Lyle Has Learned From His Ill-Fated Attempts to Capture Jarod
"Oh, no fucking way!" he exclaimed, glancing at the clock. It was after one in the morning. There was no way she was getting him back this late! He opened the e-mail and was proven totally and completely wrong.
Things Mr. Lyle Has Learned From His Ill-Fated Attempts to Capture Jarod:
1. A king size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2000 sq. ft. house 4 inches deep.
2. If you spray hairspray on dust bunnies and run over them with roller blades, they can ignite.
3. A 3-year-old’s voice is louder than 200 adults’ in a crowded restaurant.
4. If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the motor is not strong enough to rotate a 42-pound boy wearing Batman underwear and a Superman cape. It is strong enough, however, if tied to a paint can, to spread paint on all four walls of a 20x20-ft. room.
5. You should not throw baseballs up when the ceiling fan is on. When using a ceiling fan as a bat you have to throw the ball up a few times before you get a hit. A ceiling fan can hit a baseball a long way.
6. The glass in windows (even double-pane) doesn't stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan.
7. When you hear the toilet flush and the words "uh oh," it's already too late.
8. Brake fluid mixed with Clorox makes smoke, and lots of it.
9 A six-year old can start a fire with a flint rock even though a 36-year old man says they can only do it in the movies.
10. Certain Lego's will pass through the digestive tract of a 4-year-old.
11. Play dough and microwave should not be used in the same sentence.
12. Super glue is forever.
13. No matter how much Jell-O you put in a swimming pool you still can't walk on water.
14. Pool filters do not like Jell-O.
15. VCR's do not eject PB&J sandwiches even though TV commercials show they do.
16. Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.
17. Marbles in gas tanks make lots of noise when driving.
18. You probably do not want to know what that odor is.
19. Always look in the oven before you turn it on. Plastic toys do not like ovens.
20. The fire department in Austin, TX has a 5-minute response time.
21. The spin cycle on the washing machine does not make earthworms dizzy.
22. It will, however, make cats dizzy.
23. Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy.
"Well, this isn't so bad. . ." he said to no one in particular. It was then that he noticed the list of people it had been sent to. Or rather, the fact that it was quite possibly every single person that had an e-mail account anywhere in the world.
"Oh. . .my. . .God. . ." he said slowly, trying to give his mind time to wrap around what he had just seen. "No, no, no, no, no! Not happening!"
If what he was reading was right, this list, along with a picture of him and contact information (How the hell did she figure out what my real home phone number is? he wondered to himself.), was sent to every single person that had an e-mail address in the entire world. That included every single country that was currently in existence and allowed the use of the Internet.
He was, at the moment, far too stunned to even be remotely angry.
And this, he thought wryly to himself, is why I hate computers.
-----
the end.
feedback welcomed at spacedoutwriter@hotmail.com.
by: chopsticks
p g - 1 3
-----
Miss Parker, after nearly running down several dozen pedestrians, was now comfortably at home and had severely attacked the bottle of vodka that she found happily waiting for her to come home.
But, instead of relaxing, she was thinking about everything that had happened to Lyle over his tenure on the Retrieval Team. And, to her surprise, quite a lot had. Jarod seemed to have fun playing with Lyle, especially when it was just Lyle going out to check out a lair. She, of course, had always been extremely pissed off at her brother for running off on his own to check out a lair, but each time he came back with some new humiliation and she always ended up being glad she didn't go.
So far, though, she had only managed to come up with twelve things for her list. "And twelve things does not a good list make!" she exclaimed drunkenly, taking a hit straight out of the bottle. The light from the computer monitor made the clear liquid look like it was being warped, and she happily played around with the bottle for several minutes. She was, without a doubt, completely trashed. Which is why it took her all of four and two-fifths minutes to remember that Broots would know several things for her list, as he had been dragged along nearly all the time.
It took her another eleven and ten-elevenths minutes to remember that he was on her speed dial.
After finally figuring out how exactly the speed dial worked on her phone (another six and five-sixteenths minutes), she waited for Broots to pick up, not realizing that it was after midnight and he, being the normal person that he was, was probably asleep right then. "Hello?" he said sleepily after the ninth ring. Thankfully, his answering machine was currently out of commission, as Debbie had "accidentally" taken a baseball bat to it when her ex-boyfriend last called.
"Broots!" she exclaimed loudly, missing the glass she had been pouring the vodka into. It spilled all over her desk, but she only shrugged at the accident and placed the glass where it was dripping off of the desk.
"Miss Parker?" Broots asked in confusion. Scrambling could be heard through the line as Broots attempted to look at his alarm clock while tied to the phone cord. Finally getting a glimpse of the clock, he spoke into the phone again, "Is everything all right? It's after midnight!"
"Is it?" Miss Parker inquired, slurring slightly. She glanced at the clock on her computer, a look of surprise passing across her features. "Oh! So it is! Did I wake you?"
"Um, just a bit. What did you need?" Broots asked, irritated at being awoken by a drunk Miss Parker in the middle of the night. Only figures it would happen on the day that he had a meeting at seven the next morning.
"I need you to. . . Umm. . ." She blinked several times, trying to remember what it was she called him about. A quick glance at her computer screen reminded her right away. "Oh, right! I need your help with a list!"
"Oh, God. . ." he mumbled on the other end, placing his forehead on one of his hands. "Now?" he asked, desperately hoping she'd let it go until the morning.
"Yes, now, Broots! You saw what he did to me in that rotunda!" she protested, shouting loudly.
Broots, of course, clearly remembered the rotunda business. He restrained his laughter for fear that Miss Parker would fire him in her drunken delirium.
"All right, all right," he soothed, flipping on the lamp next to him, his laughter under control. "What do you need?"
"I need some ideas for things that my dear brother has learned from trying to capture Jarod." She took another hit off of the bottle, giving up on the glass for the moment.
"Oh, well that's easy enough. I can think of several right off the top of my head."
"Excellent!" she proclaimed, sitting up straighter and poised to type. "Do tell!"
And did he. He told her so many stories it made her head spin, but she diligently recorded the lessons Lyle learned each time. When she thought she had enough, she told Broots what her, as she referred to it as, Grand, Super-Master Plan was.
"That's not too hard," he said, his mind already spinning on the different ways to do what she asked.
"Good! Glad to hear it!"
"Just send it to me via e-mail. I'll go and do it now," he said, standing up and shuffling toward his computer terminal.
"Excellent! Broots, I'm sending the e-mail to you now," she said, clicking the send button in her e-mail program. "Now, don't forget to do exactly what I told you." And with that final declaration, she hung up and slammed the remaining vodka in her glass. She leaned back and stretched out happily.
Tonight was definitely a good night.
Mr. Lyle, who was still up at this late hour, was shopping for a new wife online.
No, really. He was.
In fact, he was right in the midst of a rather. . .erotic fantasy when his e-mail alert popped up on screen.
"Damn it," he mumbled, annoyed at the interruption. He was just getting to the best part too. He clicked on it, nearly jamming his finger onto the button, sending a resonating click throughout the sterile apartment.
He didn't recognize the e-mail address, but the subject line caught his eye:
Things Mr. Lyle Has Learned From His Ill-Fated Attempts to Capture Jarod
"Oh, no fucking way!" he exclaimed, glancing at the clock. It was after one in the morning. There was no way she was getting him back this late! He opened the e-mail and was proven totally and completely wrong.
Things Mr. Lyle Has Learned From His Ill-Fated Attempts to Capture Jarod:
1. A king size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2000 sq. ft. house 4 inches deep.
2. If you spray hairspray on dust bunnies and run over them with roller blades, they can ignite.
3. A 3-year-old’s voice is louder than 200 adults’ in a crowded restaurant.
4. If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan, the motor is not strong enough to rotate a 42-pound boy wearing Batman underwear and a Superman cape. It is strong enough, however, if tied to a paint can, to spread paint on all four walls of a 20x20-ft. room.
5. You should not throw baseballs up when the ceiling fan is on. When using a ceiling fan as a bat you have to throw the ball up a few times before you get a hit. A ceiling fan can hit a baseball a long way.
6. The glass in windows (even double-pane) doesn't stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan.
7. When you hear the toilet flush and the words "uh oh," it's already too late.
8. Brake fluid mixed with Clorox makes smoke, and lots of it.
9 A six-year old can start a fire with a flint rock even though a 36-year old man says they can only do it in the movies.
10. Certain Lego's will pass through the digestive tract of a 4-year-old.
11. Play dough and microwave should not be used in the same sentence.
12. Super glue is forever.
13. No matter how much Jell-O you put in a swimming pool you still can't walk on water.
14. Pool filters do not like Jell-O.
15. VCR's do not eject PB&J sandwiches even though TV commercials show they do.
16. Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.
17. Marbles in gas tanks make lots of noise when driving.
18. You probably do not want to know what that odor is.
19. Always look in the oven before you turn it on. Plastic toys do not like ovens.
20. The fire department in Austin, TX has a 5-minute response time.
21. The spin cycle on the washing machine does not make earthworms dizzy.
22. It will, however, make cats dizzy.
23. Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy.
"Well, this isn't so bad. . ." he said to no one in particular. It was then that he noticed the list of people it had been sent to. Or rather, the fact that it was quite possibly every single person that had an e-mail account anywhere in the world.
"Oh. . .my. . .God. . ." he said slowly, trying to give his mind time to wrap around what he had just seen. "No, no, no, no, no! Not happening!"
If what he was reading was right, this list, along with a picture of him and contact information (How the hell did she figure out what my real home phone number is? he wondered to himself.), was sent to every single person that had an e-mail address in the entire world. That included every single country that was currently in existence and allowed the use of the Internet.
He was, at the moment, far too stunned to even be remotely angry.
And this, he thought wryly to himself, is why I hate computers.
the end.
feedback welcomed at spacedoutwriter@hotmail.com.
