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ds_flashfiction1646 words. I have another Naive Fraser one which I'm undecided on (that would make 4 or five for that challenge, I think, only this one isn't about sex). Not much to it except funny bits inspired by a shopping trip I took with two nephews this summer. There is NO sex!
Fraser hit the thermos for his second cup of tea before he asked me where we were going. “The Big Blue Mecca, Ray?”
“We’re going to IKEA. Better known as the Big Blue Mecca for women and Hell for guys. And it only makes it worse that there’s a Container Store and a Nordstrom’s Rack next door.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Ray. I thought you enjoyed shopping.”
“This isn’t shopping, not as men know it anyway. I mean, if you need a shirt, you drive to the store, look at shirts, find one you think fits and buy it. This is a completely different thing.” It really was. “Ben, you’ve never been married, never lived with a woman, never set up house with one so you don’t know what they’re like when they’re nesting.” I reached over and stole a sip of tea. “Gaa-ah! Didn’t I tell you I have to have sugar?”
“It’s my tea, Ray.” He was pouting. I shouldn’t have kept him up so late last night - in more ways than one - but sleepy and thoroughly fucked was a good look on him. Still, no way I was turning him loose in that place while he was dozing.
I shuddered, more from the memories of shopping trips past than the taste of the tea. “This is three floors full of boxes and baskets, and shelves to hold the boxes and baskets, and chairs to put in front of the shelves so you can look at your boxes and baskets. Frannie is going to look at everything, and she’ll get to the second floor and decide she really should have picked up the lamp on the third floor so she’ll send you back for it, only you’ll grab the wrong one so you have to go back again. And even if you only go there to buy one more basket to match the other five you already got, you’re gonna spend $186.32 on other stuff because they Suck. You. In.”
Yeah, he was waking up now. He just gave me that “I’m sure you’re overreacting” grin he gets when he thinks I’m being dramatic. “Ray, I refuse to believe you’re intimidated by a furniture store.”
“Okay, mountie, just for that, I’m volunteering to push the cart. That leaves you to be the runner.”
“I’ll assist Francesca in any way I can, Ray.” Smug bastard - he’ll learn.
********
We pulled in at 8:50 - it was already filling up. Saw Frannie by her van in the small lot by the loading zone. Guess she’d been here often enough to know you can’t make that left turn from the big lot. She was big as a barn and only seven months along, so it makes me wonder how many sprogs she’s got in there.
“Ray, Frase, this is gonna be so much fun!” Yeah, like a heart attack. She was babbling about the plan of attack and pulled out a shopping list three pages long.
We headed in - must have been fifty people already waiting. I grabbed a map and handed it to Ben. “If you get lost, meet me at the men’s john on the third floor, OK?”
“Really, Ray, I won’t get lost.” He was pretty insulted. I figured it would take maybe thirty minutes, about the time we got past the kitchen doodads, before we got separated.
It took twenty. Frannie had me measuring folding trays and when we turned around Fraser was nowhere to be seen. I figured I’d give it another twenty before I went after him. In the meantime, Frannie picked out some kind of knuckle-buster cheese grater box, five packs of scissors (“you can never have too many scissors, Ray”), a set of spice jars (“they’re so cute”), some kind of silver funnel thing that she wanted for gravy, and about five hundred of those little candles women use to heat up dead flowers (“they’re on sale, Ray”).
We were cruising the shelves and tables when I made my first dash to the john. Lots of tired guys, all with the same stunned looks on their faces, but no Fraser. I figured I’d try again before we left the third floor and went back to Frannie. She was cruising boxes like they contained the holy grail. I don’t get this fixation women have for stuff that holds other stuff. Maybe it’s one of those psycho-metaphorical things, but whatever it is, it’s genetic. I mean buried deep in their code. They start life in a container, they end life in a container, and they spend what’s in between collecting more containers. It’s pretty scary when you think about it.
In the meantime, I made three more trips to find Ben, but didn’t have any luck. By the time we were looking at baby furniture on the second floor, I was getting worried. I figured his senses overloaded and I’d find him curled up in a ball behind a curtain or something.
“You think they’ll page him if I flash my badge?”
Frannie snorted. “Stop being an idiot, Ray. Maybe he’s shopping like normal people instead of complaining. Grab another cart, will ya?”
Great. Two carts, one floor to go, and still no Fraser. And because he was MIA, I was running all over the store looking for rugs (“No, no, no. I wanted the red-orange one, not the rust one”), and candles (Maria will kill me if I don’t get her some, too”) more scissors (ditto), more boxes.
By the time we made it to the “As Is” area on the first floor I was ready to wring his neck. Shopping for clothes with Stella was easier than this and I wasn’t worried any more - I was pissed. He had abandoned me to this alien who was not going to be happy until she had examined every torn box. God help us if the bargain of a lifetime slipped through those swollen fingers.
I had to grab one of those flat carts for the furniture. First clue of the fun waiting for me was the number three in the quantity section of the baby furniture. Triplets? I was actually praying out loud for everything to be in stock. I did not want to head back up while she picked out something else. And I was NOT going to assemble any of this!
I was pulling down the last crib when I finally saw Ben. At first I thought he was dragging Frannie’s carts behind him until I realized it wasn’t her stuff - I made three trips looking for the red-orange carpet and I knew the blue one wasn’t it.
“Where in the hell have you been?!” He was grinning like a loon. That had me worried again.
“Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray! Isn’t this the most marvelous store you’ve ever seen?” My first thought was ‘Oh my God, he’s gay!’ I swear to God it was.
“Are you insane?”
“Oh, most certainly not. I really must bring Renfield.” He started pulling stuff out of his carts (carts!) like they were trophies from a successful hunt. “Look at these wonderful scissors. Sharp, three sizes. Perfect for camping. I got extra sets for us and the consulate, and I’m certain Buck and Maggie will appreciate some as well. And I selected additional mugs for the kitchen - these are microwaveable so we don’t have to worry about your holstein set.”
I sort of zoned out by the time he started talking about feathers and insulation and loft. He lived in an office for almost two years, and suddenly he’s Suzy Homemaker, ready to put down rugs, and hang curtains, and accessorize things. Why did I not know this about him? And how in the hell were we going to get all that into my car?
Frannie waddled over and the two of them chattered away while I steered the two furniture carts, her shopping carts, his shopping carts, and them into the closest line I could get to. Frannie pulled out about eighteen gift cards - I guess that’s what she asked for at her baby shower - and handed them to me while she and Ben debated the pros and cons of wood and plastic cutting boards.
Frannie’s total came to more than my monthly paycheck, but the cards covered it with three left over. Ben’s came to - you guessed it - $186.32. I put it on my card while he bagged everything up and walked them out to the drive-up.
Took an hour to load the stuff. Another thirty minutes for Fraser and Fannie to gorge on cinnamon rolls and milk. I had a hot dog, just to see what kind of reaction I’d get. Nothing. He was still talking to Frannie about thread counts and a duvet cover. Didn’t have a clue what that was. We had a Hudson Bay blanket on the bed at home.
********
We got back to our place by lunch after Frannie promised us that Tony and the cousins were going to do the unloading and assembly. It didn’t take us long to get everything upstairs, but I was well into the third quarter of a bowl game before Ben finished accenting and joined me on the couch. He had a cup of tea in one of the new mugs.
He leaned against my shoulder and gave out a sigh. He was happy, even his toes were wiggling in a happy kind of way. I was thinking about Frannie and women and nesting when it finally occurred to me that Fraser had never nested with anyone else before.
I looked at the mug, and the rug by the front door and the new towels in the kitchen. And I realized he was making his first real home with me. I guess if $186.32 was all it took, then I was the one who got the bargain of the century.
NOTE: For those of you who have never experienced the wonder of shopping in an IKEA, well let’s just say you either love it or hate it. “Trading Spaces” uses it a lot!
Fraser hit the thermos for his second cup of tea before he asked me where we were going. “The Big Blue Mecca, Ray?”
“We’re going to IKEA. Better known as the Big Blue Mecca for women and Hell for guys. And it only makes it worse that there’s a Container Store and a Nordstrom’s Rack next door.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Ray. I thought you enjoyed shopping.”
“This isn’t shopping, not as men know it anyway. I mean, if you need a shirt, you drive to the store, look at shirts, find one you think fits and buy it. This is a completely different thing.” It really was. “Ben, you’ve never been married, never lived with a woman, never set up house with one so you don’t know what they’re like when they’re nesting.” I reached over and stole a sip of tea. “Gaa-ah! Didn’t I tell you I have to have sugar?”
“It’s my tea, Ray.” He was pouting. I shouldn’t have kept him up so late last night - in more ways than one - but sleepy and thoroughly fucked was a good look on him. Still, no way I was turning him loose in that place while he was dozing.
I shuddered, more from the memories of shopping trips past than the taste of the tea. “This is three floors full of boxes and baskets, and shelves to hold the boxes and baskets, and chairs to put in front of the shelves so you can look at your boxes and baskets. Frannie is going to look at everything, and she’ll get to the second floor and decide she really should have picked up the lamp on the third floor so she’ll send you back for it, only you’ll grab the wrong one so you have to go back again. And even if you only go there to buy one more basket to match the other five you already got, you’re gonna spend $186.32 on other stuff because they Suck. You. In.”
Yeah, he was waking up now. He just gave me that “I’m sure you’re overreacting” grin he gets when he thinks I’m being dramatic. “Ray, I refuse to believe you’re intimidated by a furniture store.”
“Okay, mountie, just for that, I’m volunteering to push the cart. That leaves you to be the runner.”
“I’ll assist Francesca in any way I can, Ray.” Smug bastard - he’ll learn.
********
We pulled in at 8:50 - it was already filling up. Saw Frannie by her van in the small lot by the loading zone. Guess she’d been here often enough to know you can’t make that left turn from the big lot. She was big as a barn and only seven months along, so it makes me wonder how many sprogs she’s got in there.
“Ray, Frase, this is gonna be so much fun!” Yeah, like a heart attack. She was babbling about the plan of attack and pulled out a shopping list three pages long.
We headed in - must have been fifty people already waiting. I grabbed a map and handed it to Ben. “If you get lost, meet me at the men’s john on the third floor, OK?”
“Really, Ray, I won’t get lost.” He was pretty insulted. I figured it would take maybe thirty minutes, about the time we got past the kitchen doodads, before we got separated.
It took twenty. Frannie had me measuring folding trays and when we turned around Fraser was nowhere to be seen. I figured I’d give it another twenty before I went after him. In the meantime, Frannie picked out some kind of knuckle-buster cheese grater box, five packs of scissors (“you can never have too many scissors, Ray”), a set of spice jars (“they’re so cute”), some kind of silver funnel thing that she wanted for gravy, and about five hundred of those little candles women use to heat up dead flowers (“they’re on sale, Ray”).
We were cruising the shelves and tables when I made my first dash to the john. Lots of tired guys, all with the same stunned looks on their faces, but no Fraser. I figured I’d try again before we left the third floor and went back to Frannie. She was cruising boxes like they contained the holy grail. I don’t get this fixation women have for stuff that holds other stuff. Maybe it’s one of those psycho-metaphorical things, but whatever it is, it’s genetic. I mean buried deep in their code. They start life in a container, they end life in a container, and they spend what’s in between collecting more containers. It’s pretty scary when you think about it.
In the meantime, I made three more trips to find Ben, but didn’t have any luck. By the time we were looking at baby furniture on the second floor, I was getting worried. I figured his senses overloaded and I’d find him curled up in a ball behind a curtain or something.
“You think they’ll page him if I flash my badge?”
Frannie snorted. “Stop being an idiot, Ray. Maybe he’s shopping like normal people instead of complaining. Grab another cart, will ya?”
Great. Two carts, one floor to go, and still no Fraser. And because he was MIA, I was running all over the store looking for rugs (“No, no, no. I wanted the red-orange one, not the rust one”), and candles (Maria will kill me if I don’t get her some, too”) more scissors (ditto), more boxes.
By the time we made it to the “As Is” area on the first floor I was ready to wring his neck. Shopping for clothes with Stella was easier than this and I wasn’t worried any more - I was pissed. He had abandoned me to this alien who was not going to be happy until she had examined every torn box. God help us if the bargain of a lifetime slipped through those swollen fingers.
I had to grab one of those flat carts for the furniture. First clue of the fun waiting for me was the number three in the quantity section of the baby furniture. Triplets? I was actually praying out loud for everything to be in stock. I did not want to head back up while she picked out something else. And I was NOT going to assemble any of this!
I was pulling down the last crib when I finally saw Ben. At first I thought he was dragging Frannie’s carts behind him until I realized it wasn’t her stuff - I made three trips looking for the red-orange carpet and I knew the blue one wasn’t it.
“Where in the hell have you been?!” He was grinning like a loon. That had me worried again.
“Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray, Ray! Isn’t this the most marvelous store you’ve ever seen?” My first thought was ‘Oh my God, he’s gay!’ I swear to God it was.
“Are you insane?”
“Oh, most certainly not. I really must bring Renfield.” He started pulling stuff out of his carts (carts!) like they were trophies from a successful hunt. “Look at these wonderful scissors. Sharp, three sizes. Perfect for camping. I got extra sets for us and the consulate, and I’m certain Buck and Maggie will appreciate some as well. And I selected additional mugs for the kitchen - these are microwaveable so we don’t have to worry about your holstein set.”
I sort of zoned out by the time he started talking about feathers and insulation and loft. He lived in an office for almost two years, and suddenly he’s Suzy Homemaker, ready to put down rugs, and hang curtains, and accessorize things. Why did I not know this about him? And how in the hell were we going to get all that into my car?
Frannie waddled over and the two of them chattered away while I steered the two furniture carts, her shopping carts, his shopping carts, and them into the closest line I could get to. Frannie pulled out about eighteen gift cards - I guess that’s what she asked for at her baby shower - and handed them to me while she and Ben debated the pros and cons of wood and plastic cutting boards.
Frannie’s total came to more than my monthly paycheck, but the cards covered it with three left over. Ben’s came to - you guessed it - $186.32. I put it on my card while he bagged everything up and walked them out to the drive-up.
Took an hour to load the stuff. Another thirty minutes for Fraser and Fannie to gorge on cinnamon rolls and milk. I had a hot dog, just to see what kind of reaction I’d get. Nothing. He was still talking to Frannie about thread counts and a duvet cover. Didn’t have a clue what that was. We had a Hudson Bay blanket on the bed at home.
********
We got back to our place by lunch after Frannie promised us that Tony and the cousins were going to do the unloading and assembly. It didn’t take us long to get everything upstairs, but I was well into the third quarter of a bowl game before Ben finished accenting and joined me on the couch. He had a cup of tea in one of the new mugs.
He leaned against my shoulder and gave out a sigh. He was happy, even his toes were wiggling in a happy kind of way. I was thinking about Frannie and women and nesting when it finally occurred to me that Fraser had never nested with anyone else before.
I looked at the mug, and the rug by the front door and the new towels in the kitchen. And I realized he was making his first real home with me. I guess if $186.32 was all it took, then I was the one who got the bargain of the century.
NOTE: For those of you who have never experienced the wonder of shopping in an IKEA, well let’s just say you either love it or hate it. “Trading Spaces” uses it a lot!
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no subject
Date: 2003-12-28 06:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-28 07:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-28 06:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-28 07:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-28 07:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-28 08:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-29 02:40 am (UTC)My first thought was ‘Oh my God, he’s gay!’ I swear to God it was.
::Dying::
no subject
Date: 2003-12-29 09:08 pm (UTC)to steal a line from someone else: "they are so gay!"
no subject
Date: 2003-12-29 09:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-29 06:26 pm (UTC)WTF???*g* votive candles, right? But what's the dead flower thing?
They start life in a container, they end life in a container, and they spend what’s in between collecting more containers.
HOOTING!! Jesus, I'm glad I didn't read this at the reference desk. And the last line was truly all that. :) Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2003-12-29 09:11 pm (UTC)I have to admit that I love boxes, too.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-29 06:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-29 09:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-30 01:14 am (UTC)I fear it's got to be some kind of latter-day rebellion -- my father built our family's home from scratch. I'm old enough to remember him doing the wiring out of a book, a la Fraser. There is NO universe where I'd go beyond changing a light bulb.
no subject
Date: 2003-12-30 03:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-30 04:00 am (UTC)IKEA
Date: 2003-12-30 12:23 am (UTC)Re: IKEA
Date: 2003-12-30 03:22 am (UTC)Hehehehe!
Date: 2003-12-30 10:21 am (UTC)Never mind the meatballs (meh.) - it's the cheesecake you need to be worried about! W/o the sauce please until I find out just what a ligonberry is (close cousin to the saskatoon berry p'haps?)
Thanx kindly!
Monica
Re: Hehehehe!
Date: 2004-01-03 12:09 am (UTC)Thanks for the praise - I hope to get another story posted tomorrow night once I get back home.
Wah!
Date: 2004-01-01 08:22 pm (UTC)Re: Wah!
Date: 2004-01-03 12:11 am (UTC)awwww
Date: 2004-06-09 07:31 pm (UTC)