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RegisterAn A-muse-ing Tale (humor/one-shot) -- posted by AnaG [16/09/2007]
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An A-muse-ing Tale (humor/one-shot) -- posted by AnaG [16/09/2007]
by squirtandmilo Sun Jun 01, 2008 2:46 pm
Posted 16/09/2007 04:30:32 (15/09/2007 07:30:32 PM)
**Shaking head in embarrassment**. Yes, I know that title/pun is just awful. Despite that little fact, this one shot is meant as a bit of a tribute to musie and all the others out there helping the writers put the pictures into words. So here we go…how Brennan found her muse (even is she doesn’t want to admit it). – Ana
***
A pair of feet rests on the corner of the desk, orange flip-flops hanging from brightly painted toes. The green plastic dragonflies across the straps sway slightly as the wearer moves her feet back and forth to the rhythm of the song playing in her head.
Suddenly, she sits forward and stares at the computer in front of her. Bright, moss-green eyes stare back at her from the reflection on the dark monitor. She preens, turning first left and then right, admiring what she sees. Puckering her lips, she blows a kiss to the reflection.
“Ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille!”
She laughs out loud, delighted with herself. It doesn’t take long though, before she is bored again.
Where is she already ?!?
She stands with a huff, slinging the trailing end of her feather boa across her shoulder. As she strides to the door she mutters to herself.
“I knew it was going to be trouble when Harriet matched me with this one. Harry—I tell her—maybe this isn’t such a good idea. The muses and the scientists, they just don’t mix. Remember what happened to Tinks and that Charlie Darwin fella?"
But Harry did listen to a word I said…nooooo.
She continues to rant, mocking Harry as looks out into the lab.
“‘Scientists are writers too and this one needs her muse. Besides, I thought that the great Frankie Lou was capable of handling any writer that we threw at her.’”
Dang union meetings. Need to learn to keep my mouth shut.
“And how many times have I told her not to call me that. It’s Francine Louisa to you, missy. Now where is that woman. Doesn’t she know that it’s supposed to be the writer in search of a muse—not the other way around?”
She sits down in the doorway with one more sigh of indignation, putting on her snakeskin cowboy boots as she prepares to wait.
***
Francine Louisa is perched on the back of the couch, watching the writer as she and her partner argue about…
I forget…what is that they are arguing about this time? Gawd, I keep losing track.
Taking out her pocket watch, she yawns.
Lovely as this has been to watch, it’s time to write, girlie. Have I got a whopper for you about this guy that has a thing for taking kneecaps as souvenirs.
Francine Louisa stands and pats her beehive, making sure that not a hair is out of place before she walks over to the writer. Waving her hand in front of the woman’s face, she begins talking in a sing-song voice…
“Woo-hoo, scientist lady. Time to get down to business. We have a story to get going here. Creepy serial killer dude idea is not going to hang around forever.”
She puts her hand on her hips as the woman continues to talk about why she should be the one to do whatever it was it was that had her is such a tizzy.
“So, still not going to acknowledge that I’m standing right here, hm? Well, we’ll just see about that. They don’t say that Franki—Francine Louisa is the best there is for nothing.”
Just give me some time to work on it, dearie. Haven’t let one of you down yet.
The muse sits on the couch, searching through her bag. With a little squeal of delight she pulls out a box of chocolate covered cherries, a gift from her last writer. Sitting back with a candy in one hand, she lets out a nostalgic sigh.
Now that was one writer that knew how to appreciate her muse.
She’s staring hard at the writer now, working up a good old-fashioned stink-eye that had sent many a writer straight to their notebooks. Before it can work though, the man walks in front of her, blocking her view. That’s when Francine Louisa almost chokes on her chocolate candy.
“Well, hey there sweet cheeks…Maybe there are some perks to this job after all if hottie FBI agents are part of the deal.”
Leaning back, she makes herself comfortable, then pops another candy into her mouth as she continues to stare.
At least I have a little puzzle to work on while bone-lady over stops talking. FBI. F-inest B-ottom Indeed…no, no, F-abulous B-oot-ay….ooh, boy-howdy, this is gonna be fun.
***
“Aw, this is so not fun, chickie!. Forms! Muses don’t do windows, we don’t change diapers— and we don’t do paperwork! Where’s the blood and guts? Or hey, got an idea— dontcha want to write a nice hot love scene. I have plenty of those ready after watching your Boothie Baby all day. Come on, girlfriend…let’s write!”
Francine Louisa is twirling around the writer— and having changed into her prized tap shoes, she is making an awful racket. She stops suddenly when she notices the writer reach for another file folder.
Oh, mercy, mercy, mercy me. I didn’t want to do this, but I can see I’m going to have to drag out the big guns here aren’t I? Dang-nabbit, this isn’t going to be pretty.
Bending down to look directly in the writer’s eyes, Francine Louisa is about to reveal her secret weapon, when someone else walks into the room.
Her green eyes light up when she notices the artist.
Maybe there is hope after all if there is one of them around this place.
Five minutes later, she’s holding her head in her hands.
Tissue depth markers and bloodstain analysis. Oh, Harry baby, you are going to owe me one for this. I need a plan. A nap and a plan.
A push against her shoulder jolts her from her plotting. Startled she looks up to see…
“Jazzy! Sweetpea, what are you going here?” She hugs the pink haired muse in front of her. “You must be here with the artist. It’s been ages girlie. Oh, holy Manolo, look at those heels…”
In no time at all, the two are comparing notes on their charges and getting jealous over the other’s footwear. However, being the muses that they are, each is quite capable of multi-tasking. Two brightly colored heads turn simultaneously as they cue into what is being said by the two people.
“....not going so well, sweetie? I know your agent is putting a lot of pressure on you for the next draft.”
“Actually, Ange, it’s almost complete. There’s just this one scene with Andy that isn’t working. I don’t know what’s wrong. The words just aren’t coming to me like they normally do.”
Francine Louise is positively indignant, waving her arms in the air.
“Hello! Muse here. Been here for ages with those words you’ve been….”
She doesn’t get to complete her sentence as Angela speaks over her.
“Well, Bren, maybe it’s time to get in touch of your muse.”
And the muse is overjoyed.
Finally someone with some sense around here!
She rushes over to Angela ready to plead for a little help here already, when she hears the words that will tarnish any muse’s tiara.
“Angela. Muses? You know there’s no such thing as muses.”
It’s all poor Jazzy can do to keep Francine Louisa from falling right out of her lovely patent leather mules.
***
It’s near the end of very long day for poor Francine Louisa. She sits across the table from the writer, unable to see her from behind the screen of the laptop. Beehive tilting dangerously, boa discarded over the back of the chair, and her feet tucked into a pair of ratty bedroom slippers, the muse is a sad sight.
Guess that I am going to have tell Harry and the girls that this one beat me. Can’t help the ones that don’t believe.
She sighs and starts looking through her bag.
“Damn it! Where is it? Can’t go back without the identification. You know airport security is getting bad when a muse as gorgeous as me can’t get through without ID.”
She almost didn’t see the pen flying right at her and barely had enough time to move before it was followed by a pencil.Angry, she turns to the writer.
“Now’s no time for a snit fit, missy. I tried to help…”
Seeing the writer, head in her hands in frustration, the muse hangs her head and sighs.
The things I do for these writers. Okay, prissy-britches, let’s give this one last shot.
Standing behind the writer, Francine Louisa places her hands on the woman’s shoulders and leans down to whisper in her ear.
“Hey, Temperance. This is Franc—This is Frankie Lou. I know you don’t want to admit I’m here…but you are plain stuck with me, girlfriend. So, let’s get thing written, kay?”
“Now what do we have so far?”
She leans over to peer at the screen and finds a single word.
“Booth. Now there’s the problem, sweetpea. You’ve got a bad case of Booth on the brain. Not that I blame you, who wouldn’t want that kind of writer’s block. That man is pure, Grade-A, yummy. Let’s just see if we can channel that a bit….”
Frankie Lou closes her eyes, willing the words to her charge. As the writer remains unmoved, one bright green eye peeks open. The writer is still staring at the screen. Frankie is starting to despair, just starting to wonder if a muse could lose her union card over this, when she hears the sweetest sound a muse ever heard. The sound of fingers tapping against a keyboard.
Slipping out of her slippers, she puts her bare feet on the floor and wiggles her toes.
Yep, Frankie Lou, you still got it, princess. Not that there was ever a doubt…
Then the muse leans back against the table’s edge and continues to provide her writer with a story.
**Shaking head in embarrassment**. Yes, I know that title/pun is just awful. Despite that little fact, this one shot is meant as a bit of a tribute to musie and all the others out there helping the writers put the pictures into words. So here we go…how Brennan found her muse (even is she doesn’t want to admit it). – Ana
***
A pair of feet rests on the corner of the desk, orange flip-flops hanging from brightly painted toes. The green plastic dragonflies across the straps sway slightly as the wearer moves her feet back and forth to the rhythm of the song playing in her head.
Suddenly, she sits forward and stares at the computer in front of her. Bright, moss-green eyes stare back at her from the reflection on the dark monitor. She preens, turning first left and then right, admiring what she sees. Puckering her lips, she blows a kiss to the reflection.
“Ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille!”
She laughs out loud, delighted with herself. It doesn’t take long though, before she is bored again.
Where is she already ?!?
She stands with a huff, slinging the trailing end of her feather boa across her shoulder. As she strides to the door she mutters to herself.
“I knew it was going to be trouble when Harriet matched me with this one. Harry—I tell her—maybe this isn’t such a good idea. The muses and the scientists, they just don’t mix. Remember what happened to Tinks and that Charlie Darwin fella?"
But Harry did listen to a word I said…nooooo.
She continues to rant, mocking Harry as looks out into the lab.
“‘Scientists are writers too and this one needs her muse. Besides, I thought that the great Frankie Lou was capable of handling any writer that we threw at her.’”
Dang union meetings. Need to learn to keep my mouth shut.
“And how many times have I told her not to call me that. It’s Francine Louisa to you, missy. Now where is that woman. Doesn’t she know that it’s supposed to be the writer in search of a muse—not the other way around?”
She sits down in the doorway with one more sigh of indignation, putting on her snakeskin cowboy boots as she prepares to wait.
***
Francine Louisa is perched on the back of the couch, watching the writer as she and her partner argue about…
I forget…what is that they are arguing about this time? Gawd, I keep losing track.
Taking out her pocket watch, she yawns.
Lovely as this has been to watch, it’s time to write, girlie. Have I got a whopper for you about this guy that has a thing for taking kneecaps as souvenirs.
Francine Louisa stands and pats her beehive, making sure that not a hair is out of place before she walks over to the writer. Waving her hand in front of the woman’s face, she begins talking in a sing-song voice…
“Woo-hoo, scientist lady. Time to get down to business. We have a story to get going here. Creepy serial killer dude idea is not going to hang around forever.”
She puts her hand on her hips as the woman continues to talk about why she should be the one to do whatever it was it was that had her is such a tizzy.
“So, still not going to acknowledge that I’m standing right here, hm? Well, we’ll just see about that. They don’t say that Franki—Francine Louisa is the best there is for nothing.”
Just give me some time to work on it, dearie. Haven’t let one of you down yet.
The muse sits on the couch, searching through her bag. With a little squeal of delight she pulls out a box of chocolate covered cherries, a gift from her last writer. Sitting back with a candy in one hand, she lets out a nostalgic sigh.
Now that was one writer that knew how to appreciate her muse.
She’s staring hard at the writer now, working up a good old-fashioned stink-eye that had sent many a writer straight to their notebooks. Before it can work though, the man walks in front of her, blocking her view. That’s when Francine Louisa almost chokes on her chocolate candy.
“Well, hey there sweet cheeks…Maybe there are some perks to this job after all if hottie FBI agents are part of the deal.”
Leaning back, she makes herself comfortable, then pops another candy into her mouth as she continues to stare.
At least I have a little puzzle to work on while bone-lady over stops talking. FBI. F-inest B-ottom Indeed…no, no, F-abulous B-oot-ay….ooh, boy-howdy, this is gonna be fun.
***
“Aw, this is so not fun, chickie!. Forms! Muses don’t do windows, we don’t change diapers— and we don’t do paperwork! Where’s the blood and guts? Or hey, got an idea— dontcha want to write a nice hot love scene. I have plenty of those ready after watching your Boothie Baby all day. Come on, girlfriend…let’s write!”
Francine Louisa is twirling around the writer— and having changed into her prized tap shoes, she is making an awful racket. She stops suddenly when she notices the writer reach for another file folder.
Oh, mercy, mercy, mercy me. I didn’t want to do this, but I can see I’m going to have to drag out the big guns here aren’t I? Dang-nabbit, this isn’t going to be pretty.
Bending down to look directly in the writer’s eyes, Francine Louisa is about to reveal her secret weapon, when someone else walks into the room.
Her green eyes light up when she notices the artist.
Maybe there is hope after all if there is one of them around this place.
Five minutes later, she’s holding her head in her hands.
Tissue depth markers and bloodstain analysis. Oh, Harry baby, you are going to owe me one for this. I need a plan. A nap and a plan.
A push against her shoulder jolts her from her plotting. Startled she looks up to see…
“Jazzy! Sweetpea, what are you going here?” She hugs the pink haired muse in front of her. “You must be here with the artist. It’s been ages girlie. Oh, holy Manolo, look at those heels…”
In no time at all, the two are comparing notes on their charges and getting jealous over the other’s footwear. However, being the muses that they are, each is quite capable of multi-tasking. Two brightly colored heads turn simultaneously as they cue into what is being said by the two people.
“....not going so well, sweetie? I know your agent is putting a lot of pressure on you for the next draft.”
“Actually, Ange, it’s almost complete. There’s just this one scene with Andy that isn’t working. I don’t know what’s wrong. The words just aren’t coming to me like they normally do.”
Francine Louise is positively indignant, waving her arms in the air.
“Hello! Muse here. Been here for ages with those words you’ve been….”
She doesn’t get to complete her sentence as Angela speaks over her.
“Well, Bren, maybe it’s time to get in touch of your muse.”
And the muse is overjoyed.
Finally someone with some sense around here!
She rushes over to Angela ready to plead for a little help here already, when she hears the words that will tarnish any muse’s tiara.
“Angela. Muses? You know there’s no such thing as muses.”
It’s all poor Jazzy can do to keep Francine Louisa from falling right out of her lovely patent leather mules.
***
It’s near the end of very long day for poor Francine Louisa. She sits across the table from the writer, unable to see her from behind the screen of the laptop. Beehive tilting dangerously, boa discarded over the back of the chair, and her feet tucked into a pair of ratty bedroom slippers, the muse is a sad sight.
Guess that I am going to have tell Harry and the girls that this one beat me. Can’t help the ones that don’t believe.
She sighs and starts looking through her bag.
“Damn it! Where is it? Can’t go back without the identification. You know airport security is getting bad when a muse as gorgeous as me can’t get through without ID.”
She almost didn’t see the pen flying right at her and barely had enough time to move before it was followed by a pencil.Angry, she turns to the writer.
“Now’s no time for a snit fit, missy. I tried to help…”
Seeing the writer, head in her hands in frustration, the muse hangs her head and sighs.
The things I do for these writers. Okay, prissy-britches, let’s give this one last shot.
Standing behind the writer, Francine Louisa places her hands on the woman’s shoulders and leans down to whisper in her ear.
“Hey, Temperance. This is Franc—This is Frankie Lou. I know you don’t want to admit I’m here…but you are plain stuck with me, girlfriend. So, let’s get thing written, kay?”
“Now what do we have so far?”
She leans over to peer at the screen and finds a single word.
“Booth. Now there’s the problem, sweetpea. You’ve got a bad case of Booth on the brain. Not that I blame you, who wouldn’t want that kind of writer’s block. That man is pure, Grade-A, yummy. Let’s just see if we can channel that a bit….”
Frankie Lou closes her eyes, willing the words to her charge. As the writer remains unmoved, one bright green eye peeks open. The writer is still staring at the screen. Frankie is starting to despair, just starting to wonder if a muse could lose her union card over this, when she hears the sweetest sound a muse ever heard. The sound of fingers tapping against a keyboard.
Slipping out of her slippers, she puts her bare feet on the floor and wiggles her toes.
Yep, Frankie Lou, you still got it, princess. Not that there was ever a doubt…
Then the muse leans back against the table’s edge and continues to provide her writer with a story.
squirtandmilo- Administrator
- Number of posts : 17139
Age : 34
Location : Melbourne, Australia
Registration date : 2008-06-01
Re: An A-muse-ing Tale (humor/one-shot) -- posted by AnaG [16/09/2007]
by squirtandmilo Sun Jun 01, 2008 2:48 pm
Posted 20/09/2007 01:26:03 (19/09/2007 04:26:03 PM) By Turi ray of sunshine
I finished reading it FINALLY!!!.. I started reading this f.p months ago!!.. back when Pyro had bumped it for Amo I believe!!... and then you know the evil powers over there.. aren’t as cool as Willi’s power on this wonderful forum and the fic just **poophed** disappeared…
And know that I found it here .. I read it I laughed and I LOVED IT!!!... so glad that you posted this one here too!!!
LOVED IT.. and have you posted the one you wrote from the victims POV?!?!?.... I SO LOVED that one too!!!.. but will definitely read it again!!!.. and if you did just point me to the right direction chica and I will READ IT
I finished reading it FINALLY!!!.. I started reading this f.p months ago!!.. back when Pyro had bumped it for Amo I believe!!... and then you know the evil powers over there.. aren’t as cool as Willi’s power on this wonderful forum and the fic just **poophed** disappeared…
And know that I found it here .. I read it I laughed and I LOVED IT!!!... so glad that you posted this one here too!!!
LOVED IT.. and have you posted the one you wrote from the victims POV?!?!?.... I SO LOVED that one too!!!.. but will definitely read it again!!!.. and if you did just point me to the right direction chica and I will READ IT
squirtandmilo- Administrator
- Number of posts : 17139
Age : 34
Location : Melbourne, Australia
Registration date : 2008-06-01
Re: An A-muse-ing Tale (humor/one-shot) -- posted by AnaG [16/09/2007]
by squirtandmilo Sun Jun 01, 2008 2:48 pm
Posted 20/09/2007 02:08:05 (19/09/2007 05:08:05 PM) By polygirl
OMG that was just so freaking awesome and cute.................
OMG that was just so freaking awesome and cute.................
squirtandmilo- Administrator
- Number of posts : 17139
Age : 34
Location : Melbourne, Australia
Registration date : 2008-06-01
Re: An A-muse-ing Tale (humor/one-shot) -- posted by AnaG [16/09/2007]
by Seeleybaby Sun Aug 17, 2008 1:05 am
this is fun, and original.
very good
very good
Seeleybaby- Squint
- Number of posts : 35
Registration date : 2008-08-15
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