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anythingdrabbleTitle: Candy Cane Dipstick
Fandom: Becker
Characters/Pairings: Linda, Becker, Margaret
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Well, it is the wrong texture...
Author's Note: I haven't done one of these in YEARS! LOL
He hated Christmas. Every year seemed to get worse and worse. People were always horrible. His office was always packed, with no end to work in sight. Traffic in Chicago -- heck, life itself in Chicago stayed Hell all year round! To make matters even worse, the unexpected snowstorm had knocked out his electricity last night and also hit the diner. He'd had no coffee, and Jake had let his brand run out. He was pissed already, to say the least, when he walked into his office to see a bunch of guys staring at Linda, who was perched, doing no work as always, in a short, red-and-green striped skirt on the edge of the front counter.
"LINDA! GET DOWN!" he roared. She jumped down immediately, but still looked so damned cheerful. "AND GET THAT CANDY CANE OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!"
"What?" Linda asked in feigned innocence, every other guy in the small, cramped office practically drooling as she slowly pulled the cane from between her lips. She shrugged at Becker's thunderous Look, nearly singing, "It's the wrong texture anyway!"
He didn't answer in words, but the slamming of his office door made more than a few patients walk out into the snow. Every man who wasn't tugged away by his wife remained.
Sucking on the candy cane again, Linda turned to Margaret and raised her hands, palms up, in defense. "What?" she asked. "It's not!"
"Linda -- "
"I know! I know! Take the candy cane out of my mouth!" She did so again, but then whined, "It's the wrong texture anyway, Margaret! You know it is!"
Margaret glowered at her. Most of the patients up until now fled, to which the head nurse could only see the lightened workload. "LINDA," she announced, stacking her papers, "YOU'RE GOING STRAIGHT TO HELL!"
The End
Fandom: Becker
Characters/Pairings: Linda, Becker, Margaret
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Well, it is the wrong texture...
Author's Note: I haven't done one of these in YEARS! LOL
He hated Christmas. Every year seemed to get worse and worse. People were always horrible. His office was always packed, with no end to work in sight. Traffic in Chicago -- heck, life itself in Chicago stayed Hell all year round! To make matters even worse, the unexpected snowstorm had knocked out his electricity last night and also hit the diner. He'd had no coffee, and Jake had let his brand run out. He was pissed already, to say the least, when he walked into his office to see a bunch of guys staring at Linda, who was perched, doing no work as always, in a short, red-and-green striped skirt on the edge of the front counter.
"LINDA! GET DOWN!" he roared. She jumped down immediately, but still looked so damned cheerful. "AND GET THAT CANDY CANE OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!"
"What?" Linda asked in feigned innocence, every other guy in the small, cramped office practically drooling as she slowly pulled the cane from between her lips. She shrugged at Becker's thunderous Look, nearly singing, "It's the wrong texture anyway!"
He didn't answer in words, but the slamming of his office door made more than a few patients walk out into the snow. Every man who wasn't tugged away by his wife remained.
Sucking on the candy cane again, Linda turned to Margaret and raised her hands, palms up, in defense. "What?" she asked. "It's not!"
"Linda -- "
"I know! I know! Take the candy cane out of my mouth!" She did so again, but then whined, "It's the wrong texture anyway, Margaret! You know it is!"
Margaret glowered at her. Most of the patients up until now fled, to which the head nurse could only see the lightened workload. "LINDA," she announced, stacking her papers, "YOU'RE GOING STRAIGHT TO HELL!"
The End
