#on the town on gene kelly day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rugtopper · 1 year

Text

HAUNTED BARBERSHOP

By rugtopper

The son becoming the father....it happens quite a lot.

Lawrence Ryan McKay, Jr. had dreaded this day for twelve years. He did not want to deal with anything that had to do with his father, especially his father’s estate. Larry, as his friends called him, had not seen or spoken to his father since the day he and his mother drove out of town after the divorce was final. In truth, Larry really didn’t know his father aside from what his mother had told him.

Walking around the Town Square waiting for the afternoon funeral gave Larry a lot of time to think. He really wasn’t concentrating on anything in particular when something caught his attention on the other side of the courthouse. Was that old Mr. Cecil standing in front of his barbershop smoking a pipe? Larry thought to himself. Old Mr. Cecil. Mr. Cecil Hobson. He was old even when Larry was a kid. But, wasn’t Mr. Cecil dead? Maybe this is his son. Who knows? Suddenly, Mr. Cecil looked up and waved at Larry. Next to dealing with his father’s death, seeing Mr. Cecil was not something Larry wanted to do.

“Why, Young Lawrence, it is good to see you. How are you?” Mr. Cecil asked in his cheerful voice.

Larry reluctantly walked over to the barbershop. “Doing as well as can be expected, thank you for asking. Aren’t you Mr. Cecil’s son?”

“Uh . . . yes. I started working with Dad right after you and your mother left town. Why don’t you come in for a bit? You look like you could do with a trim. No charge.”

“No thanks. I don’t qualify as one of your clients. You see I do have a full head of hair.” Larry was now standing on the sidewalk under the sign that read:

MR. CECIL’S BARBERSHOP

And hair replacement salon

“That’s all right, Lawrence. I do give regular haircuts. Come on, it will only take a few minutes.”

“Oh, all right. I do need a trim. Besides, it is still a couple of hours until the funeral begins.” Larry slowly walked down the steps to the below-street-level entrance.

The bell on the door jingled lightly as Larry walked through the door. The room was pristine, as if time had stood still. The black and white tiled floor looked just as Larry had remembered it. The two giant red leather chairs didn’t seem as big now to a grown-up Larry as they had when he was much younger. Still, they were over-powering and impressive. There was even a faint odor of aftershave in the air, which Larry really liked. However, the row of old leathery wig stands still lined the shelf behind both chairs. This distressed Larry when he was a kid. His mother always made an issue of how embarrassing it was to have a husband who wore a toupee. As Larry walked further into the room, he noticed the rogue gallery of Hollywood publicity photos still occupying the entire wall across from the chairs. For a moment he just stood there and stared, as he used to do, at the dapper men who wore toupees: Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, Humphrey Bogart, Edward G. Robinson, David Niven, Leslie Howard, Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, Bobby Darin, Charles Boyer, Richardo Montalban, Jimmy Stewart, Lorne Greene . .

“Why don’t you have a seat, Lawrence?” Mr. Cecil suggested.

Larry broke out of his semi-trance long enough to back into the huge red-leather chair.

“Now, Lawrence. . ."

“Uh . . .I prefer ‘Larry’ if you don’t mind.” He said very haughtily.

“Oh, okay, sure, Larry. Whatever you say. Now, how about that trim.”

“Well, I might need a trim, but your ‘services’ are not for me. I am fortunate to have a full head of hair. It looks like you inherited your dad’s genes for hair loss and bad toupees.”

“Ah, I see. Well, let’s get started.” Mr. Cecil said this as he quickly threw a cape around Larry, grabbed the water bottle on the counter, and began misting Larry‘s hair.

“Hey, that is interesting. Is that scent ‘cotton candy’?” Larry asked.

“Yeah, the kids really love it. It makes the haircut easier. Just relax and enjoy it.” Mr. Cecil just kept lightly misting Larry’s hair until drops of the liquid began falling on the cape.

Larry just sat there enjoying the fragrance. He was very relaxed, not sleepy, just relaxed. As he continued to breathe in and out, he noticed a wonderful, tingling sensation all over his body. He looked at Mr. Cecil in the mirror. Why did he feel so relaxed and Mr. Cecil look so happy? As Larry kept looking at Mr. Cecil, he noticed that the mist wasn’t even going on his head anymore. Mr. Cecil just kept spraying it in the air. Without even realizing what was happening, the tingling sensation slowly turned into a numbing sensation.

Methodically and sadistically, Mr. Cecil put down the mister and slowly leaned into Larry‘s ear and said, “Now, Larry, or should I say ‘Lawrence,’ let’s get one thing quite clear. You will be receiving all of my services today. And, furthermore, you will enjoy them for the rest of your life.”

Larry’s eyes got as wide as saucers. That was the only thing that moved. Larry was totally immobilized. He could not even clear his throat to speak. Mr. Cecil began to comb Larry’s unruly mane of hair.

“Lawrence, your father was the kindest and dearest of men, and one of my best customers. He was so proud when you were born. It completely devastated him as a young father when he started losing his hair. You were about three at the time. That horrible woman, your mother, gave your father hell everyday of his life. It was a vicious cycle with her. Her constant barbs about his toupee only made him feel like less of a man, which made him unable to perform like a man.”

Larry’s eyes widened at this.

“Yes, Lawrence, that is why you were an only child. Well, him not being to perform only caused him more stress, which caused him to lose more hair. That just brought on more grief from your mother. To add insult to injury, your mother had to start having an affair with her boss at the bank. That nearly killed your father.”

During this short expose, Mr. Cecil had been trimming Larry’s shaggy mop into a respectable, boarding school haircut. “I think we’re ready to start the next phase of your makeover.” Mr. Cecil pulled out the electric clippers from the cabinet, turned it on, and plowed down the center of Larry’s pride and joy. Not one muscle flinched on Larry’s face or body, but his eyes knew the rest of the story.

“Your father loved you so much. Your mother poisoned you to him even before they divorced and the two of you moved away. Your father and I would sit here for hours trying to figure out how to get you away from that woman. Your father and I became very close. He was my best friend. He was more than a friend.”

With that said, Mr.Cecil turned Larry toward the mirror so he could look at the five-o’clock-shadow on the top of his head. “Oh, I am not going to leave it like this. Don’t you worry. You see your dad wanted you to be just like him. I intend on seeing that that happens. This little laser wand is the ticket to the new you.” Mr. Cecil deliberately started burning off each little hair on Larry’s head. “Do you remember the few times you would come here with your dad when you were a kid? Your mother hated it when you came here with him. It was perfectly fine for her to be a slut and screw around with every power-mad man in town, but your dad couldn’t have . . . Well, I guess she didn’t want anyone else to get any from your dad since she wasn’t. Stupid bitch. This is looking really good, if I do so myself. You’ll be ready for your first toupee in just a few minutes, Lawrence. In fact, I have your dad’s first toupee sitting right over there.”

Larry remembered that toupee. His dad was still wearing that toupee when Larry started first grade. He remembered his dad picking him up from school. He didn’t really understand why his dad’s hair looked the way it did and the other kid’s dad’s hair didn’t. His dad’s hair was dark brown, but his toupee was a lighter shade of brown. He remembered asking his mom about it. Boy did that cause all sorts of trouble. He remembered them fighting one time when he in the second grade. He walked into the living room just as his mom ripped off his dad’s toupee. He remembered how old and ashamed and embarrassed his dad looked. His mom just laughed at him and threw the toupee in his face.

“Oh, Lawrence you are going to look so handsome in your toupee just like your father did when he first wore one.” Mr. Cecil turned Larry toward the mirror. Although he was only 24, Larry saw a middle-aged man sitting quite still in the chair. For the first time he really saw just how much he looked like his father. No wonder his mother had thrown him out of the house on his 18th birthday. He looked just the same way his dad did on the day of that shocking fight. That was the first time Larry had ever seen his dad bald. His dad had tried so hard to hide it from him. Mr. Cecil took the toupee off the old leathery wig stand, applied some tape to the tape tabs, and placed the toupee on Larry’s silky-smooth scalp. For the first time since Mr. Cecil had started using the mister, Larry could feel something, but it wasn’t something he wanted to feel.

“Ah. I see you are feeling the side effects of the mist. You see you are going to be just like your dad.” Mr. Cecil slowly combed the toupee into place. It set apart from Larry’s hair in texture and color just like it had on his dad’s head. “You might as well dump that silly little girlfriend of yours. You’ll never be able to get it up for her or any other girl ever again. Oh, I see that excites you. Gee, I hope you wear boxer shorts like your dad did.” With that, Mr. Cecil removed the cape, freed Larry’s engorged member, and kneeling down proceeded to suck Larry so hard he nearly was yanked from the chair. Larry had never had a blowjob so powerful. When he was all through and not leaving one drop behind, Mr. Cecil zipped Larry’s pants. Larry just sat there staring at the image of his new look. He didn’t even see Mr. Cecil take a small bottle and mist him in the face with it. In seconds, the feeling began to return to his body. Mr. Cecil helped him up and walked him to the door.

As they walked out onto the stoop Mr. Cecil said, “Now, Lawrence, I know you are a bit confused about all of this. I understand. I did all of this because of your father. I know it is what he wanted. Don’t worry. You look great in a toupee, just like your dad did. I also know that you will always wear it. You see, what you had on top will never, ever come back. I saw the look on your face when you saw how bald you were in the mirror. That is just how your dad looked the day your mom embarrassed him by ripping it off in that fight. Yes, I know all about that. You see they were fighting about me. He told her he was going to leave her for me. You probably don’t remember that. But you see Lawrence I didn’t just do all of this for him. The day your mother took you away was a very sad day for your dad. He lost more than just you did on that day. She had let you come here to the barbershop to say goodbye to your dad. You never even bothered to come into the shop. You stood outside here on the stoop. Your dad and I walked outside to see you. I turned to go back inside to let the two of have a moment alone. Do you remember what happened next, Lawrence?”

Larry did. He always remembered it. He remembered it as if it were yesterday. He was standing on the top step nearest the sidewalk looking down at his dad and Mr. Cecil. Mr. Cecil turned to walk inside. Without thinking, Larry did exactly as his mother had done and grabbed at Mr. Cecil’s toupee. There in his frightened, twelve-year-old hands was Mr. Cecil’s pewter toupee. Mr. Cecil spun around to grab his toupee, tripped on the bottom step of the stoop, fell, and hit his head. That is all Larry remembers ever happening.

As if awakened from a trance, Larry realized where he was. He turned around to look back at the barbershop. What he saw was a burned-out hovel and a pile of garbage with what looked liked a sign on top. All he could make out was “MR. CECIL’S.”

Larry started walking toward the funeral home. What just happened? Was it all a dream? The autumn wind picked up. As if by instinct, he touched the top of his hair. Then, he knew. It was no dream. It was both a nightmare and a new reality.

THE END

#cheap toupee #voluntary bald fringe #toupee for men #hair replacement for men #male transformation

23 notes · View notes

bright-and-burning · 8 months

Text

got tagged by @albonoooo !! thank u <3

what colour are your eyes?: i have (very mild) heterochromia!! they’re mostly green but my left eye has a little brown stripe :) i guess u could call them hazel (or at least the left one) my mom certainly did for ages idk picture below u decide

(cont under the cut)

tell me about your pets/your dream pet: i (well. my family) have an orange cat and a porgi (pitbull corgi mix [he’s really just a mutt but we’re like 95% sure he’s got corgi in him somehow]). they are the lights of my life and also the goofiest lookin mfs. i’ve posted pics of my cat before but my dog is like. really distinct looking (see: porgi) but i love him so much … ask me for photos of him n u shall receive…

my apartment is pet free unfortunately. but also taking care of another whole ass being is A Lot so. i’m very chill w not having my own rn

share some interesting fact about yourself: i went to a spanish speaking daycare when i was really young (like toddler aged) and then when i was like 7 i invented my own language (as one does) and half the words were just. spanish. my parents spent ages trying to convince me that i did not just come up w the word espagnol . i swear to god. and i was a stubborn know it all kid and i wasn’t gonna believe them on anything without irrefutable proof (and how do u prove that??) so their efforts were largely fruitless LOL

what was the first fandom you were a part of?: for SURE harry potter. 9 year old me had unsupervised internet access and went craaazy

do you have any phobias?: hm. i Really Really Really don’t like things going near my eyes. it was wayyy worse before i started wearing contacts. like someone waving their hands around within three feet of me would freak me out. i do still get like. inescapable visions of pencils being waved around and accidentally put in my eye when i think abt it/when ppl wave pencils around that i have to physically shake out of

are you a picky eater? if so, what food can't you stand?: YES! texture issues my beloathed… i DESPISE melted cheese. blergh. bad bad vibes. and other funky textured cheeses… i literally just physically shuddered.

do you eat the burger and fries at the same time or one after another?: i consciously choose to eat burger first to get protein in. and THEN fries. if burger too hot then i get to eat two (must be even number) fries at a time until it cools enough to eat

winter or summer: summer <3 i love the beach i love the sun i love 6am runs where it’s already 75° i love swimming i love fun festivals. but also summer is a mindset . if it’s 65° in march im walking around in shorts and a tank top and sitting in the sun the entire day

favourite fanfiction tropes: oh gosh… best friends to lovers… idk i read it all baby. also gonna be honest the f1 interpretations of a/b/o are FASCINATING!!! and have really increased the draw by Far for me

are you studying or working? what do you study/is your job?: working! i am a silly little analyst

what is the last country you visited: canada in june to get drunk by the lake for a week <3

what country would you want to move to after retiring?: france… maybe not. but also maybe yeah. idk i don’t have any other strong connections to places, u kno? and i’d like to travel (fingers crossed i Can retire at an age where i can still travel easily lol)

who was your first crush?: gene kelly in singin in the rain and on the town… formative movies for 3y/o me

how did you get into f1 fandom?: web weavings on tumblr + like three random instagram reels (the mclaren wavelength video being the only one i remember lol) + the empty hole unemployment left me with inside = instant obsession

no pressure tag…. @oscarpiastriwdc @ocontraire @crimsonicarus @lafaerie @mecachrome

#tag game

12 notes · View notes

mygreatadventurehasbegun · 8 months

Note

1937, 1940, 1950, 1966, 1973, 1988, 1999

1937: Gotta go with Stage Door! A who's-who of actresses from the day that is both hilarious and heartbreaking.

1940: The Philidelphia Story. One of my all-time favorite movies and definitely one of my favorite romantic comedies.

1950: Time for another all-time favorite: Summer Stock! It's my personal favorite Judy Garland movie and her chemistry with Gene Kelly is off the charts. And of course, since this is an MGM musical, there are some kick-ass song and dance numbers, including the iconic "Get Happy".

1966: How to Steal a Million. A fun little heist movie, while not perfect, it has quickly become one of my comfort movies. I find myself watching it after I've had a rough day and need something light and fun. Audrey Hepburn and Peter O'Toole have fantastic chemistry and play off each other really well. Plus, it has a really fun score by John Williams!

1973: The Exorcist. I mean...it's one of the greatest horror movies ever made, so this choice was easy. :)

1988: Running on Empty. This is a smaller, character-driven story about a family that have been on the run from the FBI for the past 15 years; and how their oldest son, Danny, wants to go to college and live his own life. The performances in this movie are all incredible...River Phoenix received an Oscar nomination for Best Supporting Actress, and there's a scene between Christine Lahti and Steven Hill that never fails at making me weep.

1999: Drop Dead Gorgeous. Does this movie age well? No. There's one thing in particular that could almost be a movie-killer...but I can't help it. I love this movie so much. It's up there with Clue as one of the most quotable movies I have ever seen...It's a dark comedy/mockumentary about a small town in MN and their annual beauty pageant...and the...incidents that happen along the way. It is so ridiculous and funny that I can't not love it. Also? This cast is absolutely stacked: Kirsten Dunst, Kirstie Alley, Brittany Murphy, Ellen Barkin, Allison Janney (who nails every millisecond) and Amy Adams in her first movie role.

Thanks for asking!!!!

#drop dead gorgeous #running on empty #how to steal a million #stage door #the exorcist #the philidelphia story #summer stock

6 notes · View notes

x-mencomics · 2 years

Text

The Uncanny X-Men #141 - Days of Future Past

Tons of stuff going on in this one!

Far in the future, a much older Sprite, who now calls herself Kate Pryde, meanders through a destroyed street of New York City. Buildings are crumbling, and the street is littered with debris. Kate is heading to meet with Wolverine, and although she wishes he would have picked a different rendezvous point, she knows that the Sentinels would never expect the mutants to meet in this part of town - the reason Wolverine picked it.

After saving Kate from a confrontation with a gang called “the Rogues,” Wolverine gives Kate a small device that he calls a “jammer.” Kate is going to smuggle the jammer into what they call “camp” and then Wolverine will arrive at midnight to bust her out of the camp. Kate gets on a horse drawn bus to ride back to the camp.

We learn that the year is 2013 and there are three classes of people: H for humans with no mutant genes, A for Anamolous Humans which are humans that possess mutant genes, and M for mutants who are the bottom class of society since the passing of the Mutant Control Act 25 years prior. Now, mutants are hunted down and killed with few exceptions. Millions of mutants have been killed since the Act was passed.

Kate arrives back at the camp and the first section of camp is a massive mutant graveyard with the graves of Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Charles Xavier, Warren Worthington and many many more. She thinks to herself that she will try to ensure all of this never happens...

Kate meets with the last remaining X-Men: Storm and Colossus. Franklin Richards, the last remaining member of the Fantastic Four, and another woman, Rachel (a telepath/telekinetic mutant), are also in the camp. And so is MAGNETO! But luckily Magneto is working with these mutants. Kate tells them all that the plan is in motion and Wolverine will attack the camp at midnight. Colossus comforts Kate and it is revealed that they are in love.

Later...

Franklin uses the jammer from Wolverine to power up a device that neutralizes the collars around all their necks. Their powers will work again as long as they remain near the jamming device.

Kate lays down and Rachel places her hands on Kate’s head, using her powers to send Kate “across the abyss of eternity.”

In the present, the X-Men are practicing in the Danger Room when Kitty suddenly comes face-to-face with her older self and she falls and blacks out. The X-Men are scared for her and Nightcrawler takes Kitty to the infirmary.

After a while, Kitty wakes up and she’s extremely excited and surprised to see the X-Men alive and well. She mentions that she didn’t believe Rachel could pull it off. The rest of the team is confused, asking who Rachel is. Kitty says she is actually Kate and that she is from the future. She explains that on this day, the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants will murder Presidential Candidate Robert Kelly, Charles Xavier, and Moira MacTaggert. At first, the X-Men do not believe this, but they are soon convinced and they head to Washington where the Professor is participating in the “mutant hearings.”

Back in 2013...

Franklin, Wolverine, Storm, Colossus, Rachel, and an unconscious Kate are traveling through the old subway tunnels in New York. They are attacked by Sentinels and Franklin is killed. The X-Men fight the Sentinels: Wolverine cuts open one of their heads, Storm hits it with lightning, Colossus knocks over an entire building, flattening a group of Sentinels. After the fight, Colossus hopes that Kate’s mission is succeeding...

In 1980...

At the Pentagon, a woman named Raven Darkholme demands results for a “stealth test” on her desk by Monday morning. Darkholme is the Assistant Secretary of Defense for Research and Development, and therefore “has access to the most secret and sophisticated weapons in America’s arsenal.” She also happens to be Mystique, leader of the New Brotherhood of Evil Mutants! The New Brotherhood includes Destiny, who can see the future, Avalanche, who can crumble any object with a touch, Pyro, who can control fire, and The Blob, who we’re all familiar with, right? (Try Issue #3 for some background!) Mystique tells the team to get ready to strike.

Meanwhile at the Senate, Senator Kelly is speaking about mutants, saying mutants are an issue of critical importance, and that this generation faces threats never dreamed of before. Professor Xavier and Moira MacTaggert are at the Senate, ready to speak next. Ororo, Peter, and Kitty/Kate enter the Senate and Xavier contacts them telepathically to ask why they’re there and if something is wrong. Xavier reads Ororo’s mind to learn what’s going on.

Kelly asks if his questions about mutants were the same thoughts that the Neanderthals had about the Cro-Magnon before the Neanderthals were wiped out. And then -

BOOM!

The walls explode and the New Brotherhood arrive with only the X-Men standing to oppose them!

#rachel #mystique #destiny #avalanche #pyro #the blob

3 notes · View notes

mccraecook99 · 5 months

Text

MGM-100 Years of Entertainment Tribute

After WB and Disney had their centennials last year and Columbia Pictures had it’s centennial last January this year,another legacy Hollywood powerhouse studio has finally reached it’s centennial today.

On This Day,100 years ago,Louis B. Mayer merged his company,Louis B. Mayer Pictures with Metro Pictures Corporation and Goldwyn Pictures Corporation to form the Hollywood studio powerhouse,Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer(AKA MGM Studio),whose logo of a roaring lion opened almost every picture the studio has produced and released to this day.

It was the studio that defined ”More Stars Than They Are In The Heavens”,that gave us beloved iconic Hollywood classics like Gone With The Wind,The Wizard of Oz, The Philadelphia Story, National Velvet,On The Town,An American In Paris,Singin‘ in The Rain,Forbidden Planet,Ben Hur,Doctor Zhivago,The Dirty Dozen,2001:A Space Odyssey,Shaft,Network,Logan’s Run,Fame,Poltergeist,Diner,A Christmas Story,WarGames,Moonstruck,Spaceballs,Willow,A Fish Called Wanda,Rain Man,Child’s Play,Stargate,GoldenEye,Legally Blonde,Barbershop and others and modern hits like the Creed and Hobbit movie trilogies,Bill and Ted Face The Music,Dog,Cyrano,Licorice Pizza,Candyman(2021),The Hustle,Bottoms,and The Beekeeper, established some of the biggest stars in the world such as Gene Kelly,Judy Garland,Spencer Tracy,Katherine Hepburn,Lana Turner,Elizabeth Taylor,Lionel and John Barrymore,Lassie the Dog,Clark Gable,and many others, introduced to the world two of the most memorable seven-time Oscar winning cartoon characters created by William Hanna and Joseph Barbera(Tom and Jerry)and produced a series of fast-paced,off-the-wall masterpiece cartoons by screwball director,Tex Avery in the 40’s and 50’s and also,released and produced several animated features such as How The Grinch Stole Christmas(1966),The Phantom Tollbooth(1970),The Secret of NIMH(1982),Rock and Rule(1983),and All Dogs Go To Heaven(1989),it also produced TV hits like The Man from U.N.C.L.E,Wednesday,The Handmaid’s Tale,Harlem Coben’s Shelter,CHiPs,MGM Parade,Flipper,FX’s Fargo,and various modern game and reality TV shows in the 2010’s and 2020’s,acquired the rights to United Artists in 1981 and other film companies such as Orion Pictures,Nelson Entertainment,and American International Pictures,now having them become part of the Lion’s den and the studio eventually got acquired by Amazon in 2021 for $8.5 billion.

Happy 100th Anniversary to the Lion of Hollywood and the studio that gave us the best lavish movie musicals and later, the James Bond series of films,Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer(AKA MGM Studios). Here is a special commemorative drawing I did for MGM’s centennial anniversary featuring Leo the Lion(the studio’s roaring lion mascot)in a tuxedo.

Thanks for 100 Years of Entertainment,MGM.

#mgm studios #metro goldwyn mayer #centennial #drawings #anniversary

1 note · View note

arrowflier · 1 year

Text

Nothing is Forever–A Good Omens Fic

Chapter 2 Summary: Crowley was prepared to live a life alone, but he's found out he doesn't have to.

Read Chapter 2 below or the entire fic on AO3 here

It’s bright when Crowley wakes. The sun is shining even through the heavy curtains, turning their otherwise subtle pattern into a sheet of yellow that blankets the room. It vies against the black of the bedsheets, washing them gray with unfiltered light, and Crowley groans as he rolls over and shoves his head under a pillow.

“Too much,” he whines, and the room returns to semi-darkness as sunbeams decide to move on.

He stays put, face smushed into high thread-count sheets, until a bird starts to warble right up against his window. He sighs, hot air trapped against his face by the mattress, then rolls over.

“Was only two days this time, angel” he rasps, words directed to the stars painted on the ceiling. “Was going for four.”

His only answer comes in birdsong as two more land on the sill, chirping harmonies. Elsewhere in the house, a radio crackles to life and begins to play Gene Kelly.

Good morning, good mooorning.

“No,” Crowley growls, sitting up, and the music cuts out. But before he can lay back down, the radio switches over to a weather report.

“Sunshine and daisies today, isn’t it Cathy?” it chimes. “Better get out and about while you can, this kind of lovely weather can’t last!”

“It’s lasted fine so far,” Crowley counters as he gives up and swings his legs out of bed. “Two years is a pretty good run.”

Well, he assumes it’s lasted that long. He’d slept for the first six months or so, once he got the house settled. He’d been trying for longer then, too, but had given up the third time his neighbors came round to check on him.

Neighbors, he thinks as he shuffles out of the bedroom. That’s still an odd thought. He’s had neighbors before, of course, but these aren’t like the kind of neighbors he’d had in London. These ones care.

It makes him itch, but he’s decided he doesn’t mind.

“Some big changes coming up, that’s for certain,” the radio drones on. “Storms coming at us from the West, I hear, and—”

Crowley shuts it off as he enters the kitchen.

“Always something coming from the West,” he tells the room. “Never got the obsession, myself.” He takes a black mug from the rack, grabs the tin that holds his best coffee grounds. “Would’ve gone with you I guess, angel,” he muses as he opens it. “But not much point otherwise.”

The tin is empty. He glares at it, but it remains stubbornly lacking.

“No sleep and no coffee,” he says pointedly, shutting the tin with a snap and setting it on the counter. “That’s a crime, angel. Only started drinking it for you, you know, with all your complaints about my naps.”

He waits a moment, fingers drumming on the edge of the sink, then reaches for the tin again.

It’s still empty. He frowns.

One hand rises, fingers poised to snap, when a breeze comes through the window over the sink. It ruffles through the stack of last week’s mail on the counter, freeing a single sheet of glossy paper from the rest. The advert floats toward Crowley, hitting his upraised hand, and he catches it before it can fall.

Grand Reopening of The Nightingale! It declares in proud bold font. Now serving brunch from our new cafe!

“Huh,” he mutters, then checks the date on the flyer.

Today. How…serendipitous.

“Alright,” he says, and tosses the flyer away. “But only because I’m desperate.”

—

There’s really no need to take the Bentley for such a short jaunt into town, but Crowley does it anyway. It’s all the exercise it gets these days, unless he decides to drive out to nowhere.

He still does that with some frequency, of course—drive out to the true countryside, take in all the things they almost lost. Have a good think under the stars, alone, before turning around and heading back toward company.

There’s plenty of that in town, to be sure. He drives past the neighborhood youth, hanging out on corners and playing ball in the street. Past the new houses that sprang up last year along the square, and the retired couples that sit out front. It’s early yet, and summer besides, but the sidewalks are already occupied by the usual crowd: Linda on her way to market, Raoul with his son in a stroller. Old Tom sweeping in front of the grocer’s, his wife Mary propping open the door.

It’s nothing like London, of course. There’s no rush, no bustle. There’s plenty of space for all of them on the sidewalk, and they could pass by without even brushing.

They could, but they don’t. They gravitate toward each other, stop to talk. Wave at Crowley when he parks the Bentley at the curb and joins them.

“Have you heard about Jerry’s fall?” Tom asks.

Pfft, of course he has. It was all Nora could talk about last week when he ran into her at the park, that and how quick the man was healing.

“You know, I think Walter is up to something. All those deliveries lately, so odd!” Linda confides.

Well, Crowley doesn’t think it’s all that odd. He’d given the man the details of a discreet little shop back in London, after all.

“And when will you come by a single’s night?” Mary questions. “Plenty of lovely ladies turning up these days.”

“And I won’t be one of them,” Crowley quips, and escapes through the door of the Nightingale.

It’s quieter inside. Well, a bit. It’s just as sunshiny and quaint as the first time he’d ever walked through the doors, but there’s a TV on the wall now that hums low and constant in the background. The old bar remains but the tables are new, the high-backed chairs reupholstered in a soft, pale grey. And then there’s the single, most obvious change: the missing wall that used to separate the bar from the little cafe next door.

“Love what you’ve done with the place, Mel,” he tells the woman behind the bar, who looks up and grins.

“Do you really?” she asks. “Only I was worried it was too much.”

In the old cafe space, golden chairs and crisp white linens have been replaced by natural blond wood that matches the worn spots on the bartop. The tiles covering the floor are pale where they butt up against the darker stain of the bar’s hardwood, the seam between the two uneven.

“Nah,” Crowley says. “Could do more, I think. Make it all…” He trails off, motions his hands toward the encroaching tiles. “All matchy.”

Mel hums, then shakes her head.

“I don’t think so,” she says. “They’re still different, after all. Just…comfortable together, I think.” She smiles, eyes distant, and looks like she might say something else. Then the TV behind her blares the jingle for the auto shop down the road, and she starts.

“And are you comfortable?” Mel asks, eyes flitting back to Crowley. “Or would you like to sit down? You might want to grab a table while you can.”

“Expecting a big turnout?” Crowley eyes the empty room, and frowns. “Thought it would be a bit more crowded, big opening and all.”

“Oh, I just opened the doors,” she says, then laughs. “Actually, I don’t even remember opening them. Funny that, must have done it right before you came in. They’ll come though, just you wait.”

“I’m sure they will,” he murmurs, and then he is.

“I’ve got new menus too, you know,” Mel tells him, and leans down to grab one from under the bar. She holds it out, stylistically aged parchment in a plastic sleeve. “Would you like to take a look?”

“Just coffee for me,” Crowley says, “ran out at home.”

“Well that’s a rarity, isn’t it?” She slips out from behind the counter, heads over to the fancy new machine that sits straddling the line between bar and cafe. “Sure you didn’t just fancy a little socializing?”

“With those harpies?” Crowley scoffs.

The coffee machine buzzes as she presses a button, whirs as it begins to dispense.

“Oh, they’re not that bad,” she says over the sound. “You don’t have to pretend to hate them, you know.”

“Who says I’m pretending?”

“I say.” She gives him a knowing look. “I know you’re the one that helped Mary and Tom keep their license, Mr. Crowley. And found Raoul that nanny, and talked Lucy into--”

“It’s just Crowley,” he interrupts, but doesn’t bother to deny her allegation. “And I think I’ll take that coffee to go.”

Mel shakes her head, but grabs a lid for his coffee.

“Always on the go, you are. One of these days, you’ll have to sit for a spell.”

“When the world ends, maybe.” He reaches out for his coffee, frowns when Mel doesn’t hand it over.

“Didn’t you know?” she asks with a smirk, and returns to the bar instead to raise the volume of the television. The drone of news anchors fills the room as she adds, “apparently we just missed our chance at the rapture.”

“—and it’s a shame, Mark, it really is.”

“Such a shame, Peter. He had a huge following, this man, and not just in the States. All of them left in the lurch with these new allegations.”

“Not such a rarity though, I suppose. Anyone who calls themselves the second coming has something going on with their head.”

“More a surprise that his supporters still believe, really. There’s a crowd outside the US capitol as we speak, protesting the persecution of their religious leader--”

“Americans,” Mel says, shaking her head as she turns it back down. “Always coming up with something to be mad about.”

“What did he do?” Crowley asks.

“Didn’t pay his taxes.”

“That’s all?”

“He was poor.”

“Ah,” Crowley says as she finally hands over his coffee. “That’ll do it.”

—

His coffee is probably too hot to drink, but that’s never stopped Crowley before.

“Good stuff, that,” he mutters as he swallows, then licks a drop off his hand where it spilled over the rim. A small crowd of people passes him, all meandering toward the Nightingale as he leaves, and he nods in satisfaction.

“Got a good head on her shoulders, that girl, doesn’t she angel?” he says into his cup. “Always said she should take over that ridiculous cafe, you heard me say it.”

A cheer goes up from the square across the street, where a children’s football match has just started.

“Yeah, me too,” Crowley answers it. “Glad she finally got her finances sorted; that must have taken some miracle.”

“Who are you talking to, Mr. Crowley?” Frank asks from up ahead, unlocking the door to the post office as Crowley approaches.

“Whoever’s listening,” Crowley answers, and crushes his now empty cup in his hand. “Got anything new for me?”

“I do in fact. A few things, came in just yesterday.”

Crowley follows him inside, waits as the man makes his way behind the service counter. Frank bends down, shuffling around out of sight, and Crowley lets his eyes wander. His gaze skates over racks of stamps and postcards, a wall of envelopes, and settles on a haphazard display of gossip rags.

States’ Savior Served reads the topmost cover, letters splashed over a grainy picture of a long-haired man being pushed into the back of a police car. Underneath the headline, in finer print: Exclusive interview with the man behind the messiah! Pg 3 and The REAL story behind last week’s attack on the American IRS. Pg 21.

“I know I set them aside for you,” Frank mutters, and Crowley’s eyes snap back to where he’s hidden behind the counter. “I just can’t seem to—ah, there they are!”

Frank grunts as he stands, and plops a small stack of mail on the counter with a soft thud. Two letters—one thin, one bulging—and a package cleanly wrapped in crisp white paper.

“You’re a popular one these days, aren’t you?” Frank comments as Crowley reaches out to accept the pile. “Friends all around, even across the pond.”

Crowley hums, tucking his mail under his arm.

“So it seems,” he agrees, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Bit of a miracle, that.”

The door chimes behind him, someone else entering, and Crowley takes a step back.

“Hear they could use a few miracles over that way,” Frank continues, ignoring his retreat, but the rest of his statement is cut off by a cleared throat.

“Could use some miracles here too, actually,” the new arrival says.

Crowley turns, and is greeted by the sight of a young man wringing dirt-stained hands. Daniel, from the plant nursery down the road. Young, blond, a bit useless, and always in need of Crowley’s help.

“Glad I ran into you Mr. Crowley,” he says, proving the point. “Do you think you could come by the shop today? Only I’ve got a stubborn ficus in that just won’t behave itself.”

“Just Crowley,” Crowley corrects with a sigh, eyes rolling upward. “I was planning to rest today,” he complains to the ceiling, “but sure, I could do with a good yell.”

—

The ficus really is stubborn. To be fair, it’s only living up to its name. You buy a fiddle-leaf fig, you can expect it to be a little…fiddly.

“You’ve got it too dry in here,” Crowley remarks absently, rubbing a leaf between two fingers. The plant had straightened up a bit after he chided it, but its branches still droop. “Jungle plants don’t like it.”

“I have tried a humidifier,” Daniel says, “only the philodendrons didn’t like that, and those are my best sellers.”

Crowley glances over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

“Have you never heard of a mister?” he asks. “What kind of plant seller are you?”

Daniel looks shocked, then cowed.

“Oh, I.” He rubs a hand over the back of his head. “I suppose that’s rather obvious, isn’t it?”

Crowley doesn’t answer.

“Only I’ve been a bit distracted lately, see,” Daniel goes on. “By all that business going on overseas. My sister, she knows a fellow, convinced her to--”

“Yeah, sure,” Crowley interrupts, straightening from his examination of the plant. “Anything else need some help while I’m here?”

Plenty of things do, apparently. He makes the rounds in Daniel’s little shop while the man prattles about his woes, only half listening while he straightens stems and encourages flowers to bloom. It’s amazing that the place is still open, as much help as Crowley has to give.

“It’s a good thing I have this place,” Daniel muses, echoing Crowley’s thoughts. “Without the money I bring in here, I don’t know what we’d do. Swindled out of all her savings, and for what? Never getting it back now that fellow is in jail.”

Crowley hums absentmindedly, reaching for a pair of shears. He snaps them in front of a misbehaving fern, and it’s fronds brighten dramatically.

“I heard even his advisor is distancing himself,” Daniel drones on. “Retiring, closing his practice. Leaving the country, most like. Can’t blame him, his career is probably dead anyway.”

“Your career will be dead soon if you don’t start paying attention,” Crowley admonishes, lifting a small pot that overflows with green leaves. “Think it’s time to repot this, don’t you think?”

“Oops.” Daniel chuckles. “Forget my own head next. I’ve got another in the back, let me just…”

He wanders away, leaving Crowley alone in the shop. The demon shakes his head, setting the poor plant back down.

“He’ll have to deal with his own mess some day,” Crowley mutters. “I can’t always be to the rescue, angel, I’ve got my own things to do. Like digging into those lovely rum scones you tricked me into trying that time in—”

“Did you order a takeaway Mr. Crowley?” Daniel calls from the back. “Only I know I didn’t, and this just showed up at the back door.”

The man pokes his head around from the back room, follows it with an arm bearing a paper bag emblazoned with the local bakery’s logo.

“Angel,” Crowley groans lowly, covering his face with a hand. He sees Daniel’s confused look through his fingers.

“Angel hair pasta,” he blurts in correction, and takes the bag. “My favorite. Order it every Wednesday.”

“It’s Tuesday,” Dave says, forehead wrinkling. He peers into the bag over Crowley’s shoulder as he opens it. The clear plastic container inside is very much not full of pasta.

“And they got my order wrong too,” Crowley says, snapping the bag shut. The top crinkles in his tight grasp. “Guess I’ll have to go sort that out then.”

He stumbles slightly on the way to the door, Daniel following. Leaves flutter in his wake as he flings it open.

“The bakery is the other way Mr. Crowley!” Daniel calls after him as he strides away from the shop. “But I don’t think they sell pasta!”

—

Half the afternoon is gone by the time he gets back home. It’s chilly at the edge of the water, a soft breeze blowing off the waves and sending sand over his feet as he walks the last stretch of beach to the cottage. He kicks the sand off his shoes at the door, kicks his shoes themselves off just inside, and pads into the living room with the mail under one arm and a box of rum raisin scones in the other.

“Honestly angel,” he murmurs as he sets both down on the simple wooden coffee table. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

He flips open the pastry box anyway, picks off a raisin and eats it.

“And I don’t mind being a bit lonely. You don’t have to keep sending people to me.”

He takes the first letter off the pile, smiles at the return address.

“Can make friends all on my own,” he adds as he rips the envelope open to reveal a pink, flowery card. “When I want to.”

My dear Mr. Crowley, the card reads in a fine cursive script. Mr. Shadwell and I do wish you would come pay us a visit! He won’t say so, but he’s ever so thankful for the gift you sent last month. And I am as well, since we’ve gotten quite adventurous with it!

Crowley grimaces at the implication, but reads on.

He would also like to send his regards on behalf of witchfinders Table and Cork, who continue to keep a close eye on the bookshop for you. There’s been no sign of our mutual friend, but Shadwell tells me the new owner is just the sweetest woman! Not in those words, you understand, but I know how to speak his language.

We’ll be out your way come summer next, whether you like it or not you wily thing. Look forward to seeing what you’ve done to the place, it was such a wreck when last we saw it.

Yours, Tracy

Shaking his head, he props the little card up next to his growing collection. It nestles in between a picture of Adam and Dog, Pepper’s messy scrawl across it, and an ornate wedding invitation from Anathema and Newt.

When Tracy and Shadwell had first shown up in town, on a vacation that sounded suspiciously spontaneous, he hadn’t been doing terribly well. He’d only just decided to stay, make the best of things, and there hadn’t been much to make the best of. A lot has changed since then, and a lot hasn’t. But he supposes he’ll make up the spare room come summer.

The second letter is much thicker, and much less ornate. Several sheets of paper that look to be torn from a child’s notebook, covered in chicken scratch that even Crowley struggles to decipher.

Nanny, it starts, and Crowley set it aside to relish later.

That left just the package. Sitting there in its bright white paper, untarnished by the trip from post to shop to home. No creases showed in the wrapping, no seams, and no address. Only his name inked in careful curls along the top.

It opened cleanly when he slid a sharp black nail along the side, nearly unwrapping itself. Inside lay a book, hard-backed and thin.

Persuasion

He snorts, and flips the book around. There’s nothing written on it but the name and author, which he knows well enough. No description, no excerpt.

Seems promising enough, though, being Jane Austen and all. Bound to be a solid thriller. And he’s done quite enough today already, so he might as well settle in for a read.

That’s something he’s been doing more of lately, reading. And not only because of the nosy little angel occupying the bookshop, who sends him at least one new book a week as she discovers them.

She’s been alright at it so far, too. A few have missed the mark, but most are worth an afternoon or two. Not an escape to the stars, perhaps, but an escape all the same.

He miracles up a glass of wine and a plate for the scones, then settles into his overly plush armchair, flings a leg over the armrest, and opens the book.

A short time later, he scowls as he turns the next page.

“Blasted angel,” he mutters as he reads “No, not you,” he clarifies to the empty room. “Your little protege. Don’t know why she’d send me this drivel. Lost loves, second chances?” He scoffs. “I’m telling you, angel—yes you this time, of course I’m talking to you—it’s completely unrealistic that this Wentworth fellow would ever forgive—”

There’s a knock on the door. Crowley stops talking. The knock comes again, more insistent, and he frowns as he sets wine and book on the table to stand.

The knocking continues as he strides the short distance to the door, urgent and loud. It stops when he turns the handle, the old metal creaking in his hand.

He opens the door a crack. Light filters in from outside, far to bright for this time of the evening, but he doesn’t reach for his glasses. He lets the light in.

“Crowley.” It sounds like a blessing in the angel’s mouth. That soft mouth with its softer words, still gentle despite the tired lines that curve around it. Those lines soften, too, as lips tremble their way into a smile.

“It’s good to see you,” Aziraphale starts, then coughs. A sound far too harsh for his corporation, for his spirit.

“I know that I…well.” Aziraphale stops again. Wrings his hands. They’re more calloused than they used to be. “That you probably aren’t very happy with me. But I heard you, you know, though you may not have wanted me to. Every time that you—“

“I know,” Crowley interrupts.

“Oh, jolly good,” Aziraphale murmurs. Trembling hands tug at his bowtie as he clears his throat again.

“And when I did,” he continues. “Hear you, I mean. I always did try to help.”

“I know,” Crowley repeats. “Got a little bit obvious after a while.”

Aziraphale smiles. It’s too small for his face, too tentative, too tremulous.

“Well,” he says after a moment. “I wasn’t really trying to be subtle. In fact, I…”

He pauses again. Crowley waits.

“I wanted you to know.” A breath. “That you weren’t alone.” Another, quicker. Nearly hyperventilating. “That I wasn’t gone forever, in case that was something you still—”

“I forgive you,” Crowley interrupts, and opens the door wider.

#good omens #fic update #fanfic #crowley/aziraphale #good omens spoilers #turns out I'm extremely rusty and words hate me right now but here I did the thing anyway

1 note · View note

newagesispage · 2 years

Text

NOVEMBER 2022

THE RIB PAGE

Annie Lenox got a tattoo!!!

*****

AHS NYC YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*****

Joel McHale will executive produce and star in Animal Control for Fox.

*****

OMG!!! Dr. Who regenerated into David Tennant, the 10th and now 14th Dr. The 60th anniversary will run him for 3 episodes and then Ncuti Gatwa will take over.

*****

Look for Out of the Woods starring Gene Heinrich on Amazon!!!!!!!!!

*****

Days alert: Jennifer is off the canvas for the moment, off to rehab?? We needed the break! **So glad that the Johnson boys are back. ** Oh, C’mon let’s not put Xander and Gwen in a work situation. We have enough with Eric and Nicole! ** More of the Shin’s!!** James Lastovic who used to play Joey was missing in Hawaii but turned out he and his girlfriend were just lost on a hike.

*****

Ryan Reynolds and Colin Hanks are making a Doc about John Candy.

*****

U.S. math scores are down.

*****

Xi Jin Ping seems to have led out the old leader and then took out all video of the incident from tv and social media in China.

*****

The Astros and Phillies will play in the World series.

*****

Bono has a new book: Surrender. Shouldn’t that be a Cheap Trick book??

*****

Were the Oath Keepers in touch with Secret Service on that fateful Jan. 6 day??** Scary Clown 45 attacked Elaine Chao, his former secretary of transportation in print calling her Coco Chow.** Wouldn’t it be great if Dominion wins their lawsuits?? Perhaps they will end up owning Fox news.

*****

Way to fuck up this nice student loan debt forgiveness by changing the rules. What? Now some of that relief is blocked.

*****

Till looks like a triumph of a movie, I can’t wait!

*****

Who are these fucking fish tournament cheaters? Yikes!!

*****

The fourth Hideyo Noguchi Africa prize was given to The Carter Center Guinea Worm Eradication Program.

*****

Did anybody see Colbert interviewing Maggie Haberman? He seemed intimidated and cut her off at the end for some of his animation. What?

*****

Liz Truss is out as UK Prime Minister and Rishi Sunak is in! He is 42, Indian and Hindu and rich.

*****

Mama Cass, Kelly Clarkson, Norman Reedus, Del Norte and Los Huracanes got stars on the Hollywood walk of fame.

*****

Frasier will get a sequel on Paramount +

*****

Abortion decisions belong to Republican gentleman. -Don Bolduc

*****

There is talk of banning gas stoves??!!

*****

Kevin Nealon has a new book of his artwork!!

*****

Documentary Now is back!!!!

*****

Just Stop Oil protesters threw tomato soup on Van Gogh’s Sunflowers. Others threw mashed potatoes on Monet’s Water Lillies. There has to be a better idea. Why does the janitor have to clean up your messes?? What the fuck did they do??

*****

Why are the gossip rags putting so much stock in one nanny who worked for Sudeikis and Wilde??

*****

Can we see some Emmy love for Making Black America. What a fab and informative show.

*****

Sexual harassment news: Anna Faris has accused the late Ivan Reitman of inappropriate touching in 2006.

*****

As uninterested as I am in the new Love Boat, it does seem like the right time. We are the Love Boat generation.

*****

What a story! Julia Roberts birth was paid for by Coretta and Martin Luther King Jr.

*****

The 251 Club in Vermont sounds like a wonderful idea. Every state should celebrate every town.

*****

Corporate profit is huge right now. Why do prices keep going up??

*****

So, according to Scary Clown 45, George H.W. Bush took his WH documents to a bowling alley and a Chinese restaurant. Interesting.

*****

We are taking the first steps to decriminalizing weed at a Fed level. There will be about 6500 pot pardons. ** A recent Fox news alert: Left midterm agenda: more pot, porn, abortions and Jan. 6 hearings. ** Another recent Fox graphic: Hail Mary Jane with a blissful pic of Biden. Priceless!!

*****

Crazy really seems to be working for people lately. And all this talk of civil war and how to start it sounds like regurgitated Manson prophecies. Everything old is new again. ** Mr. Pelosi was attacked in his home. Every time a zealot does this, it detaches the politicians from us a little more. They need more security that we or their campaigns may have to pay for and isolates them more from us.

*****

Will Herschell Walker overcome this abortion scandal, his lack of parenting and the fake badge he pulled out at his debate??

*****

Hooray for Richard Linklater and his fabulous ads against Gov. Greg Abbott in Texas.

*****

The police force was suspended in Uvalde.

*****

Ethan Crumbley pleaded guilty to the Michigan Oxford school shooting. His parents have been charged with involuntary manslaughter for not seeing to his mental health and letting him have access to the gun. We need more of that.

*****

Mischa Barton and Seamus Dever will star in Invitation to a Murder.

*****

The Feds broke up a South Carolina dog fighting ring.

*****

Racer Kurt Busch is retiring.

*****

Everybody is talking about the Brenasance, the triumph of Brendan Fraser!!

*****

Let’s go even further with the Pot pardons. Not that many people have been busted on Federal land. All races and colors do drugs but 4 times as many black and brown people are arrested for it. Prison drug convictions went up 600% after the big war on drugs began.

*****

The Indonesian soccer tragedy was so senseless. 42 thousand tickets sold to a 38 thousand capacity stadium. As losing fans stormed the field, police threw tear gas and 125 people were killed.

*****

R.I.P. Nikki Finke, the Nigerian flood victims, Ukraine war victims, Indonesian soccer victims, South St. Louis school shooting victims, Judy Tenuta, Jed Duvall, Seara Burton, Helgard Muller, Lucy Simon, Joanna Simon, Rosie Dietrich, Angela Lansbury, Pat Carroll, Robbie Coltrane, victims of the South Korea Halloween crush, Leslie Jordan, Jerry Lee Lewis, Ashton Carter, DH Peligro and Loretta Lynn.

0 notes