geekhyena asked, "Jean decides to go for the special award for community service offered by Bayville High in exchange for 200 hours of volunteering. Xavier thinks this is a great idea - so guess who else winds up doing it? Chaos/hilarity ensues."
(#00159)
“The prize is a car,” said Jean. “You have no idea what that means for me.”
“There’s something wrong with my car?” said Scott.
“Yeah, I have to go where you want to take me. I’m going for it.”
*
Jean opened the little envelope. “Looks like I’m a candy-striper at the veterans home. Huh.”
“Hooray,” deadpanned Kurt. “Bedpans and unwanted PDA’s from old folks.”
“Ignore him,” said Kitty. “He’s still bitter about the whole animal shelter fiasco.”
“You’ll get another chance,” predicted Jean. “Try them again during kitten/puppy season. They’re always swamped, then.”
“Hrumph.”
*
Jean secured the last bit of hairnet to find a fellow volunteer in andy-pandy overalls[1] and also a hairnet.
He looked at her. She looked at him. Both voiced the same thought at the same time. “Oh, just great.”
“You two know each other?” smiled the volunteer co-ordinator.
“Rivals,” supplied Jean. “But I’ll make an effort not to let that get in the way of our work.”
“You but out of this, miss perfect. I need that car!”
“Aren’t you already working two jobs?”
“Not since Speedy got me fired. But I took care of him. He’s doing courier work. On the other side of town.”
“And how about the other two?”
“Trek Marathon at the Odeon. They shouldn’t do too much damage.”
Jean breathed out. “Okay. Good. You should also know that there’s more than one car to win. So there’s no need for any kind of ‘special fireworks’, got that?”
“Yeah, I got no interest in more damage to pay off, thanks.”
“Then we have a deal.”
“Fine.”
They shook, and got on with the day.
*
Five hours later…
One wing of the Home was on fire. A broken hydrant sent a fountain of water twenty feet into the air. The runabout-painted minivan that broke it lay forlornly on its side in the middle of the street, blocking traffic both ways. Distant sirens howled.
The veterans, Fred, and Todd were conga-ing around the ruined building. Singing.
“STAAAAARRRR TREKKIN’ ACROSS THE UNIVERSE!”
“This is all your fault.”
“ON THE STARSHIP ENTERPRISE UNDER CAPTAIN KIRK!”
“My fault? I didn’t do anything!”
“STAR TREKKIN’ ACROSS THE UNIVERSE!”
“They’re your friends.”
“BOLDLY GOING FOR-WARD ‘CAUSE WE CAN’T FIND REVERSE!”
“I did not get them shit-faced on sugar and additives and throw them out of the theatre! They did that all by themselves.”
“IT’S WORSE THAN THAT HE’S DEAD, JIM; DEAD, JIM; DEAD JIM!”
“You weren’t there to stop them.”
“IT’S WORSE THAN THAT HE’S DEAD, JIM; DEAD, JIM, DEAD!”
“Well excuse me for trying to get a car I didn’t have to pay off after I die!”
“WELL IT’S LIFE, JIM, BUT NOT AS WE KNOW IT…”
“Oh my God, when are they going to shut up?”
“I suggested elephant tranq’s but they just laughed at me.”
A siren-bearing vehicle finally pulled up on the verge and a uniform got out, and picked them to talk to, since they were the only ones sitting still and not trying to relieve the chaos. “Do either of you know who’s responsible for this mess?”
“THERE’S KLINGONS ON THE STARBOARD BOW…”
Jean pointed to Lance. Lance pointed to Fred. “I left him in charge of Todd,” he explained. “He knows that neither of them are supposed to have sugar and additives. I had to work.”
“As a candy-striper?”
“No, this is to win a new car. Kinda need that to work, too.”
“Are they singing ‘Star Trekking’?”
“Yes.”
“You’re kidding. I love that song!”
Lance pinched the bridge of his nose. “…kill me now…”
[1] Of course certain household whovians introduced Jean to the concept of Andy Pandy overalls.
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