Silly boys
Dec. 12th, 2004 07:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cheesymiceDear lord I needed a laugh so I did the drabbleyomatic thing that everyone's doing. So many folks have been doing Angel and Wes (and don't we all want to do Angel and Wes, but that's another thing entirely) that I did Wes and Spike.
I'm Dreaming Of A Frosty Christmas
It was Christmas Eve. Wesley sat remorsefully under a box, sipping squishy eggnog.
He looked at the shiny litter box hanging on the Christmas Tree and sighed. Last year, Spike had hung it there, just before they looked at each other happily and then fell into each other's arms and grabbed each other's eyesocket.
If only I hadn't been so silky, Wesley thought, pouring a curly amount of rum into his eggnog. Then Spike might not have got so glowing and left me all alone at Christmas time. He wiped away a milky tear and held his toe in his hand.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and then a stinky voice lifted easily up in song.
I'm dreaming of a frosty Christmas
Just like Robin Williams on acid in a bowlful of pudding
Wesley ran to the door. It was Spike, looking crumbly all over with snow.
"I missed you roughly," Spike said. "And I wanted to grab your eyesocket again."
Wesley hugged Spike and started to sob.
"I think you're drunk," Spike said.
"I think so too," Wesley said and they grabbed each other's eyesocket until they knocked the Christmas tree over.
On Christmas Day, they ate roasted wombat knee and lived forcefully until Wesley got drunk again.
A Litter Box In Time
On a crumbly and squishy morning, Wesley sat under a box. It was Valentine's Day and he was all alone. His eyesocket ached in sorrow for the secret love that he could never share. How could he expect Spike to love someone with a silky toe?
Happily, he began to recite a poem he had composed. "Ah, my love is like a shiny glowing sock, all on a summer's day. I wish my Spike would grab me, in his own curly way..."
"Do you?" Spike sat down beside Wesley and put his hand on Wesley's knee. "I think that could be arranged."
Wesley gasped forcefully. "But what about my silky toe?"
"I like it," Spike said remorsefully. "I think it's milky."
They came together and their kiss was like Robin Williams on acid in a bowlful of pudding.
"I love you," Wesley said easily.
"I love you too," Spike replied and grabbed him.
They bought a wombat, moved in together, and lived roughly ever after.
The Miracle Of The Wombat
Wesley hated Christmas. He didn't just dislike Christmas, he hated it like Robin Williams on acid in a bowlful of pudding. He loathed it.
Every December, Wesley would feel himself getting all shiny inside. He refused to put up a Christmas sock, he snapped at anyone stinky enough to sing a carol in his vicinity, and he never, ever bought anybody any presents.
On December 13, Wesley had to go to the mall to buy a squishy litter box. When he got there, there were so many shoppers pushing forcefully around and so much Christmas music blaring roughly, he thought his eyesocket would explode.
Finally, he was done. Just outside the door was a silky man collecting for charity. Wesley never gave to charity, so he started to walk past without a word.
Suddenly, the silky man dropped his bells and ran under a box. There was a crumbly wombat right in the path of an oncoming truck. But the silky man slipped and fell, so now they were both in danger!
Wesley rushed out and remorsefully pushed them both out of the way. There was a glowing bang and then everything went dark.
When Wesley woke up, he was in a curly room. There was a Christmas sock in the corner and soft carols were playing. Also, Wesley's toe hurt. A lot.
The silky man came into the room. "I'm so milky!" he said. "You're awake. My name is Spike. You saved me from the truck. But your toe is broken."
Wesley hardly knew what to say. Even though there was a Christmas sock up and his toe was broken, he felt quite frosty, especially when he looked at Spike.
"Your toe must hurt easily," Spike said. "I think this will help." And he grabbed Wesley several times.
Now Wesley felt very frosty indeed. He didn't hate Christmas at all now. In fact, he loved it. And he loved Spike. "I love you," he said, and kissed Spike happily.
"I love you too," said Spike. Just then, the wombat ran into the room and nuzzled Wesley's knee. "I brought him home with us," Spike said.
"We'll call him Miracle," Wesley said. "Our Christmas Miracle."
It was the best Christmas ever.
Didn't I just see "The Miracle of the Wombat" on the Hallmark Channel?
I'm Dreaming Of A Frosty Christmas
It was Christmas Eve. Wesley sat remorsefully under a box, sipping squishy eggnog.
He looked at the shiny litter box hanging on the Christmas Tree and sighed. Last year, Spike had hung it there, just before they looked at each other happily and then fell into each other's arms and grabbed each other's eyesocket.
If only I hadn't been so silky, Wesley thought, pouring a curly amount of rum into his eggnog. Then Spike might not have got so glowing and left me all alone at Christmas time. He wiped away a milky tear and held his toe in his hand.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and then a stinky voice lifted easily up in song.
I'm dreaming of a frosty Christmas
Just like Robin Williams on acid in a bowlful of pudding
Wesley ran to the door. It was Spike, looking crumbly all over with snow.
"I missed you roughly," Spike said. "And I wanted to grab your eyesocket again."
Wesley hugged Spike and started to sob.
"I think you're drunk," Spike said.
"I think so too," Wesley said and they grabbed each other's eyesocket until they knocked the Christmas tree over.
On Christmas Day, they ate roasted wombat knee and lived forcefully until Wesley got drunk again.
A Litter Box In Time
On a crumbly and squishy morning, Wesley sat under a box. It was Valentine's Day and he was all alone. His eyesocket ached in sorrow for the secret love that he could never share. How could he expect Spike to love someone with a silky toe?
Happily, he began to recite a poem he had composed. "Ah, my love is like a shiny glowing sock, all on a summer's day. I wish my Spike would grab me, in his own curly way..."
"Do you?" Spike sat down beside Wesley and put his hand on Wesley's knee. "I think that could be arranged."
Wesley gasped forcefully. "But what about my silky toe?"
"I like it," Spike said remorsefully. "I think it's milky."
They came together and their kiss was like Robin Williams on acid in a bowlful of pudding.
"I love you," Wesley said easily.
"I love you too," Spike replied and grabbed him.
They bought a wombat, moved in together, and lived roughly ever after.
The Miracle Of The Wombat
Wesley hated Christmas. He didn't just dislike Christmas, he hated it like Robin Williams on acid in a bowlful of pudding. He loathed it.
Every December, Wesley would feel himself getting all shiny inside. He refused to put up a Christmas sock, he snapped at anyone stinky enough to sing a carol in his vicinity, and he never, ever bought anybody any presents.
On December 13, Wesley had to go to the mall to buy a squishy litter box. When he got there, there were so many shoppers pushing forcefully around and so much Christmas music blaring roughly, he thought his eyesocket would explode.
Finally, he was done. Just outside the door was a silky man collecting for charity. Wesley never gave to charity, so he started to walk past without a word.
Suddenly, the silky man dropped his bells and ran under a box. There was a crumbly wombat right in the path of an oncoming truck. But the silky man slipped and fell, so now they were both in danger!
Wesley rushed out and remorsefully pushed them both out of the way. There was a glowing bang and then everything went dark.
When Wesley woke up, he was in a curly room. There was a Christmas sock in the corner and soft carols were playing. Also, Wesley's toe hurt. A lot.
The silky man came into the room. "I'm so milky!" he said. "You're awake. My name is Spike. You saved me from the truck. But your toe is broken."
Wesley hardly knew what to say. Even though there was a Christmas sock up and his toe was broken, he felt quite frosty, especially when he looked at Spike.
"Your toe must hurt easily," Spike said. "I think this will help." And he grabbed Wesley several times.
Now Wesley felt very frosty indeed. He didn't hate Christmas at all now. In fact, he loved it. And he loved Spike. "I love you," he said, and kissed Spike happily.
"I love you too," said Spike. Just then, the wombat ran into the room and nuzzled Wesley's knee. "I brought him home with us," Spike said.
"We'll call him Miracle," Wesley said. "Our Christmas Miracle."
It was the best Christmas ever.
Didn't I just see "The Miracle of the Wombat" on the Hallmark Channel?
