By Minim Calibre
Notes: For bessemerprocess in Yuletide 2010. Originally posted here. Ted Crisp/Linda Zwordling/Veronica Palmer.
Veridian Dynamics lab, 3:45 p.m.
“Ted, come and see this. Lem and I have come up with a hybrid sea creature that’s part tuna, part eel, part salmon, and part wasabi.” Phil motions him over, and Ted realizes once again that once you’ve seen the lemur, it’s impossible to unsee.
Lem pushes up his glasses with a disturbingly parental smile of scientific pride. “We’re thinking of calling it ‘The Chef’s Sustainable Special.'”
“It was going to be ‘The Chef’s Sustainable Special Roll,'” Phil adds, “but we couldn’t get the rice DNA to play nicely with the wasabi.”
“Excellent work, Phil, Lem. You’ve opened up a brave new world of sashimi. But that’s not why I’m here. I need to cancel our 4:00 meeting. Veronica needs Linda and me in her office at 4:15 to go over our schedule for the next week. Granted, not our work schedule, but it is Veronica, and she is still my boss, so I can’t exactly say no. So if there’s anything important you needed to let me know, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
Phil looks at Lem, and Lem looks at Phil. Eventually, they will need to break the news about the escape of the Octochicken 2.0. They never should have attempted to get drumsticks and calamari from one animal. But today is not that day.
In unison, they reply, “No, nothing.”
“Same old, same old,” says Phil.
“Great, I’ll see you both on Monday morning.”
They watch him walk off, both of them thinking a sunset should magically appear before him. Or maybe behind him. One’s more traditional, but it’s hard to tell which would do better justice to his hair.
Phil sighs, face cradled in his palms, elbows planted between two petri dishes of sashmi-grade genetically engineered food. “Ted is great.”
Lem mirrors Phil’s stance, only his petri dishes contain the smoking remains of the wasabi and rice duel. “He really is.”
“Better than we are.”
“Obviously.”
“Only Ted could somehow manage to tame the twin passions of Veronica and Linda.” Phil sighs. “I can barely handle one woman in my life. And she prefers it if I don’t, so guess it works out.”
“I love it when beautiful people date each other.”
“We should offer to make them a baby that combines all three of their DNA.”
“True. It’s even better when beautiful people reproduce.”
The office of Veronica Palmer, 4:15 p.m.
Veronica spins her chair to face them both. She’s been doing that a lot since her office was restored three months after the kid mafia incident. “Ted, Linda. We need to talk about our schedule.”
Linda gives her a perky, caffeine-fueled smile. “Okey dokey. What’s up?”
“Ted, you can’t have Linda.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said you can’t have Linda. I overheard you two talking in the kitchen about your plans for tonight. But you can’t have her.Tonight’s my turn.”
“Veronica,” Ted pauses, unsure what you say to your boss, who is also your lover, who is also demanding that she have dibs on your subordinate, who also happens to be your lover, and her lover, and, as it so happens, an independent person who might happen to have plans of her own and is sitting right there. No, he has no idea how to respond to that. “Fine, but can it wait until after 8pm? Rose invited her over for dinner a week ago.”
“7:30, but only if you serve me dessert before we go.”
“Deal.”
They’re about to shake on it when Linda, clearly fed up with having her life determined by her partners, interrupts. “Hey, you two, know what? I have a great idea. Why don’t Veronica and I both have dinner with you and Rose, and then we all go out? Then we wouldn’t need a schedule, and I could spend my time in the office pretending I enjoy testing products that always wind up getting used as pesticides or bombs. Or both.”
“To be fair, Linda, we did try to sell the renewable donut as a food product first. It’s only then we discovered that it killed people. And bees. But back to your suggestion, I’d love to, but I can’t get a babysitter for Rose on short notice.”
“Nonsense, Ted. It’s clear we need to implement Linda’s idea as soon as possible. Call on your little men in the lab.”
“You mean Phil and Lem?”
“Exactly. Your little men. And make sure they’re prepared for an overnight assignment.”
Veridian Dynamics lab, 4:45 p.m.
“And I promise, if you do this for me, I won’t even be angry about the Octochicken 2.0. Yes, Phil and Lem, I do know about that. So, how about it?”
“Lem and I would be honored to watch Rose.”
“Indeed we would, Phil.”
“Great. I’ll see you at my place at 7:00 p.m.”
“On the dot.”
“Or the nose.”
“Whichever you prefer.”
Into the sunset, they decide as they watch him go. “It would make his hair kind of glow.”
Lem gives a solemn nod. “Like a halo.”
“Or that crab we thought would make the world’s first edible nightlight. If only it hadn’t kept pinching the test child’s nose.” Phil adds.
“The plastic surgery bills for that were outrageous.”
“How did he know about the Octochicken 2.0?”
“I think he may be psychic. Or possibly magical.”
“That would explain so much.”
The Crisp residence, 7:00 p.m. (on the nose)
“Hi, Rose. Your Dad’s asked us to watch you while he goes out. What would you like to do for the evening?”
Rose looks at Phil and Lem and decides she might as well keep them occupied so she can get her homework done in peace. “Can we look in the kitchen and see if we can use whatever’s in the pantry to make something that glows?”
“Now you’re talking.”
Veronica Palmer’s residence, 7:42 p.m. (bottles of wine consumed: .25)
“All this scheduling and rules. It’s like you’re treating this like a work project. Come on, guys, haven’t you ever been in a threeway relationship before?”
Ted and Veronica look at each other and do a synchronized headshake. “No.”
“Huh. Seriously?” Linda gives them a smug smirk. “Well I guess that makes me the expert in this one.”
“Go ahead, Linda,” Veronica says as she refills her glass. “This is your moment in the sun, so explain it to us.”
The Crisp residence, 7:42 p.m.
“You guys know that you’re going to have to clean that up, right?”
Phil, Lem, and Rose look at the smoldering wreck of a Caphalon omelet pan.
“Phil, maybe we should have gone a little easy on the rum.”
“How were we to know it was overproof?”
Rose shoves a dishcloth in Phil’s hand, and a broom in Lem’s. “You two could have read the bottle that said Bacardi 151. I’ll be in my room, finishing my math assignment. Don’t let anything else blow up.”
Veronica Palmer’s residence, 8:45 (bottles of wine consumed: two)
“And so I guess what I’m saying is, sometimes, a bird in the hand really isn’t worth two in the bush, if you know what I mean. Because two in the bush can be pretty nice, and a bird in the hand gets kind of dull. So let’s try being bush birds and see how that works out.”
“It could work out well. She’s bad at metaphors,” Veronica says. “But she’s really good at sex.”
“True on both counts. She even admits it. Although, she’s better at metaphors than you.”
“My time is important, Ted. Metaphors are simply a waste of it. Besides, if i need metaphors, I have people for that.”
“Yes. They’re commonly referred to as the marketing department.”
“Hey, you two? I’m still sitting right here, you know.”
“Technically, I think what you’re doing is more slouching.”
“Ted’s right. It’s definitely a slouch. Sitting is what I’m doing. Observe the straight line made by my spine, and the ninety degree angle where my legs meet my torso. Damn, I’m good.”
“So what about it?”
Veronica pulls the pins from her bun and shakes her hair out. “Bush birds it is. Starting now.”
Veronica Palmer’s residence, 9:38 p.m.
Ted has to admit, the whole bush bird metaphor’s actually not as bad as it first sounds. Or maybe that’s the sex talking. It’s kind of hard to tell.
Crisp residence, 9:52 p.m.
“If there’s nothing left on fire or bubbling, I think I’m going to bed now. Technically, my bedtime was over an hour ago. If you don’t want to share the guest bed, the couch folds out. Extra linens are in the closet down the hall.”
“We’ll be fine with sharing, right Lem?”
“Right, Phil.”
“Hey, Rose, if you were to create your own perfect sibling, would you like it to look more like Ted, more like Veronica, or more like Linda?”
“And, importantly, would you rather it were a boy or a girl?”
Rose shakes her head. Adults. “I think this conversation’s a little premature. They’ve only just figured it out. Why don’t we get back to it in a year or so?”
Crisp residence, 9:12 a.m.
Ted enters his home to find Rose in her PJs, coloring. Despite the faint burnt chemical smell, everything appears to be standing, which he’s going to place in the win column. He swings his daughter up and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Morning, Rose. Where are Phil and Lem, and how do pancakes sound?”
“Sleeping off an experiment gone wrong. Plus, I think they were up late designing me a little brother or sister. I told them that conversation was a little premature, but I don’t think they listened. As for the pancakes, I think we’ll need to go out. The experiment gone wrong took the omelet pan with it.”
“You know scientists, honey, they have to learn these things for themselves. And going out sounds wonderful. We can pick up Linda and Veronica and make a day of it”
“Speaking of Linda and Veronica, where are they?”
“Sleeping off a metaphor that I think may just work out.”
Rose nods her head and smiles. Maybe if she’s lucky, she can get Phil and Lem to revisit the sibling conversation in as little as six months. She’s not getting any younger, and if she’s ever going to be a big sister, she’d like to have the energy of youth on her side and get the ball rolling before she hits double digits, after all.