fandomtownies | Strokes of Genius, Thursday

Still yawning after movie-day naptime in Modeling class (again, what the frikkin' hell), Katchoo showed up at work with a triple-strength mocha clutched possessively in both hands. She had to relinquish half her grip on it to open the door, of course, but she'd had to out-attitude the barista at the Perk to get herself a mocha that was 90% espresso, 6% chocolate, and 4% milk and you weren't getting that cup away from her for anything. She'd worked damn hard to get it.

She'd left the window cracked yesterday to get rid of some of the lingering chemical fumes, but there was still enough of a lingering odor to make her grimace and mutter to herself as soon as she stepped inside. The door was going to have to stay propped open again today; good thing she was decently layered.

Anyway, whatever cleanup she hadn't finished yesterday -- funny how talking to Arthur took up a lot of her time, and was actually far more fun -- would be enough physical activity to keep her warm; there were several boxes of trash to take out to the dumpster, half of the drafting section still needed to be restocked, and then the fun of updating inventory lists and prepping the next supply order would have to start.

Katchoo wasn't looking forward to that part, but the radio station she'd tuned into today was playing a marathon of Queen. It'd take the edge off.

[OOC: The OCD fell into a pothole and then got covered up with asphalt. Thanks, CalTrans! I do not want my commute to be an X-Games event every day.]

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"Only if there's Canadian bacon. You can't have pineapple without Canadian bacon." Which was not stopping Katchoo from helping herself to a slice.

"I think you can. Canadian bacon doesn't grow on pineapple trees." Nyah nyah.

"It's the principle of the thing, Francine!" Yes, Katchoo really could look that scandalized. "How could you? Pineapple without Canadian bacon? That's blasphemy!"

"It could be pineapple with regular bacon!"

Never mind looking scandalized. Katchoo just looked sad now. "Pizza heathen."

Francine picked a piece of pepperoni off her slice and looked even sadder. "It's like I never knew you at all."

Katchoo put a hand to her forehead and sighed dramatically. "Tragic, innit? It could've been epic."

"I bet it's not actually illegal to put both kinds of bacon on a pizza," Francine said thoughtfully.

"Oh, it could be," Katchoo deadpanned. "There's laws for these kinds of things, y'know. International Board of Pizza Relations or somethin'."

"Next time let's be daring and break the law, then." Francine picked a mushroom off and tossed it lightly at her.

The mushroom landed on Katchoo's shirt, which did not stop her from picking it off and eating it.

She could have considered that more carefully. There was dust on her shirt from the cleanup. Bleh.

"And then we'll be blacklisted from ever ordering pizza again. Is that a risk you want to take?" she asked. "Why are you picking off the mushrooms?"

"...Because they're fun to throw at you?"

"What are you sayin', Francie?" Katchoo picked another mushroom off her slice of pizza and flicked it back. "I need to lighten up? Have a little more fungus?"

Francine tried and failed to duck that (it landed in her hair) while also holding her nose. "Who let off the stinky pun? Oh, it was you."

"Sorry, I just couldn't hold it in any more." Never feign that kind of quasi-Victorian embarrassment again, Chewie. It's terrifying.

Luckily her questionable aim, or maybe Francine's evasive maneuvers, provided a distraction from that. "Hold still. You have a mushroom in your hair."

"Leave it in," Francine said, mostly because she felt dumb for missing that. "They're full of vitamin E." ...And she could shake it loose and shudder about it later.

Katchoo paused with her hand halfway to the mushroom. "They're also low fat. Want me to rub it on your butt?"

"...Eww! That's it, find me something to beat you with." Preferably not a pizza slice, because even more eww.

Said the woman who'd signed up to be dunked in chocolate the weekend. Yes. What. Shut up.

Katchoo produced a Pentel Clic Eraser from the cup near the cash register, extended it all the way out, and waved it floppily at Francine.

"Here ya go. Knock yourself out."

. . . it was not impossible, okay?

Francing stared at it for a moment. "......Is it just me or does that look way dirty?"

"Francie!" Katchoo feigned utter and complete shock, and not remotely in a convincing way. "Would I ever make anything look way dirty?"

"Would you ever not?"

"I distinctly recall this one time two years ago . . ."

Strokes of Genius, Thursday

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