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vocab_drabblesTitle: 'Magical Abuses'
Fandom: Friends
Author:but_can_i_be_trusted
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 946
Characters/Pairings: Phoebe Buffay, Gunther, original characters
Warnings: Some bigoted dialogue and imagery.
Notes: Using Challenge #198: Debase, Challenge #199: Reticent, and Challenge #202: Abate. Crossposted towhatif_au.
Summary: “Who’s responsible,” the man shouted, as both of them rose from their seats.
It wasn’t that Phoebe deliberately set out to eavesdrop. While listening in on other peoples’ conversations could occasionally be entertaining, today it was hardly intentional. This time, she simply couldn’t avoid it; the people talking, a middle-aged couple, seemed to know nothing at all about vocal volume modulation. Or about reticence, for that matter.
“It says here,” the man was saying, rattling his newspaper almost as loudly as he himself was speaking, “that the NYPD is opening up a new unit, devoted to abuses of magical power.”
“Well, it’s about time,” the woman stated, pounding the table for emphasis. “Those freaks have been running rampant in this city for far too long! I hope they lock those weirdos up!”
The man sighed, shaking his head. “I wish it was that cut-and-dried. But they’re not arresting magic-users outright. Unless they’re committing crimes with their powers. And you can’t tell, just by looking at them, who has magical abilities, versus who doesn’t.”
“Ugh!” Disgusted, the woman rolled her eyes. “It’s a disgrace, to just let that vermin run around loose. They should all be confined to one neighborhood, or made to wear some kind of identifying marker, so that respectable people can avoid them.”
Oh? The way the Jewish people were made to do in the Middle Ages, Phoebe wanted to shout at them. Or during the Holocaust?! Debase them, lock them away, and then...?
Instead of making such a noisy scene, she gestured lightly in their direction. Sending a tendril of her own powers toward them.
The couple, who’d continued their bigoted tirade, stared in shock as their coffee cups rose in unison. As they watched, transfixed, the man’s iced coffee proceeded to dump itself into his lap, while the woman’s spinach-and-wheatgrass smoothie poured itself all over her head.
For a moment, the entire coffee shop was silent, as the other patrons gawked at the spectacle.
Then...all Hell broke loose.
“Who’s responsible,” the man shouted, as both of them rose from their seats. “What menace to society’s out to embarrass good, law-abiding citizens?!”
“I’ll bet it was her,” the woman yelled, pointing directly at Phoebe. “She’s in here all the time!”
“That weirdo?!” The man led the way, stomping to where Phoebe calmly sat on Central Perk’s couch. “She looks like a magical freak! It was you, wasn’t it,” he accused, the pair of them towering over her.
She didn’t bat an eyelash, as she took a bite of a pastry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stated. Smirking, she looked up at the woman, whose hair was turning a sickening green beneath the smoothie leftovers. “You’d better go and wash that out; you’re starting to look like a bog witch.”
“How dare you call me a witch,” the woman shrieked. “I’ll rip your hair out by the roots!”
“Fine one to talk about witches,” the man sneered, glaring at Phoebe. “We should burn you at the stake!”
Moments before either of them could lunge, Gunther rushed over.
“I don’t know what this is about,” he cut in, before the screams and accusations could be renewed at even higher volume. “But if you insist on harassing one of my best customers, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave, and not come back.”
“Two of your best customers,” the man quickly corrected, a smug look on his face.
Fixing the couple with a stern glare, Gunther folded his arms across his chest. “I wasn’t speaking to her. I’ve known this lady for years, and she’s never given anyone an ounce of trouble. You, on the other hand, have been bothering everyone here since you came in. You’re incapable of carrying on a conversation quietly, in order to respect other peoples’ presence. While you’re entitled to your opinions, you’re not entitled to air them in public so vociferously, or to level false accusations and threats against anyone. Please leave. And I’d appreciate it if you found another coffee shop to frequent, from now on.”
Baffled and frustrated at the way their rudeness had been forced into abatement, the couple turned from Phoebe, who continued to serenely sit and enjoy her snack, now placing their attention on him.
Clenching and unclenching his fists, the man stared at Gunther in disgust. “If that’s the way you feel about it, then you don’t deserve our business,” he growled.
“Throwing us out, after that creature did this to us, and calling me a witch,” the woman wailed. “I’ve never been so insulted!”
“How do you think I feel,” Phoebe asked. “Being accused of things I didn’t do! If I say I didn’t, then that should be good enough for you.”
In a huff, the couple marched out of Central Perk, their exit applauded by the other patrons.
Gunther went back to his counter, picking up a teapot. He quickly returned to Phoebe’s side, refilling her cup.
She blinked. “Oh! Thanks, Gunther. I’ll be leaving soon. Could I get my bill, please?”
He leaned over her. “It’s on the house today,” he murmured, glancing around to make sure that nobody overheard. “I know you were the one who did that to those people.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a business card and slipped it to her. “I have a cousin who’s with the new Magical Abuses Unit. He’s looking for recruits and consultants. You might want to consider looking into it.”
Back in business mode, he made his rounds, checking to see if anyone else needed anything more.
Sitting back, Phoebe examined the business card. “Consultants and recruits, huh,” she hummed softly to herself.
It was certainly food for thought.
Fandom: Friends
Author:
but_can_i_be_trustedRating: PG-13
Word Count: 946
Characters/Pairings: Phoebe Buffay, Gunther, original characters
Warnings: Some bigoted dialogue and imagery.
Notes: Using Challenge #198: Debase, Challenge #199: Reticent, and Challenge #202: Abate. Crossposted to
whatif_au.Summary: “Who’s responsible,” the man shouted, as both of them rose from their seats.
It wasn’t that Phoebe deliberately set out to eavesdrop. While listening in on other peoples’ conversations could occasionally be entertaining, today it was hardly intentional. This time, she simply couldn’t avoid it; the people talking, a middle-aged couple, seemed to know nothing at all about vocal volume modulation. Or about reticence, for that matter.
“It says here,” the man was saying, rattling his newspaper almost as loudly as he himself was speaking, “that the NYPD is opening up a new unit, devoted to abuses of magical power.”
“Well, it’s about time,” the woman stated, pounding the table for emphasis. “Those freaks have been running rampant in this city for far too long! I hope they lock those weirdos up!”
The man sighed, shaking his head. “I wish it was that cut-and-dried. But they’re not arresting magic-users outright. Unless they’re committing crimes with their powers. And you can’t tell, just by looking at them, who has magical abilities, versus who doesn’t.”
“Ugh!” Disgusted, the woman rolled her eyes. “It’s a disgrace, to just let that vermin run around loose. They should all be confined to one neighborhood, or made to wear some kind of identifying marker, so that respectable people can avoid them.”
Oh? The way the Jewish people were made to do in the Middle Ages, Phoebe wanted to shout at them. Or during the Holocaust?! Debase them, lock them away, and then...?
Instead of making such a noisy scene, she gestured lightly in their direction. Sending a tendril of her own powers toward them.
The couple, who’d continued their bigoted tirade, stared in shock as their coffee cups rose in unison. As they watched, transfixed, the man’s iced coffee proceeded to dump itself into his lap, while the woman’s spinach-and-wheatgrass smoothie poured itself all over her head.
For a moment, the entire coffee shop was silent, as the other patrons gawked at the spectacle.
Then...all Hell broke loose.
“Who’s responsible,” the man shouted, as both of them rose from their seats. “What menace to society’s out to embarrass good, law-abiding citizens?!”
“I’ll bet it was her,” the woman yelled, pointing directly at Phoebe. “She’s in here all the time!”
“That weirdo?!” The man led the way, stomping to where Phoebe calmly sat on Central Perk’s couch. “She looks like a magical freak! It was you, wasn’t it,” he accused, the pair of them towering over her.
She didn’t bat an eyelash, as she took a bite of a pastry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stated. Smirking, she looked up at the woman, whose hair was turning a sickening green beneath the smoothie leftovers. “You’d better go and wash that out; you’re starting to look like a bog witch.”
“How dare you call me a witch,” the woman shrieked. “I’ll rip your hair out by the roots!”
“Fine one to talk about witches,” the man sneered, glaring at Phoebe. “We should burn you at the stake!”
Moments before either of them could lunge, Gunther rushed over.
“I don’t know what this is about,” he cut in, before the screams and accusations could be renewed at even higher volume. “But if you insist on harassing one of my best customers, then I’m going to have to ask you to leave, and not come back.”
“Two of your best customers,” the man quickly corrected, a smug look on his face.
Fixing the couple with a stern glare, Gunther folded his arms across his chest. “I wasn’t speaking to her. I’ve known this lady for years, and she’s never given anyone an ounce of trouble. You, on the other hand, have been bothering everyone here since you came in. You’re incapable of carrying on a conversation quietly, in order to respect other peoples’ presence. While you’re entitled to your opinions, you’re not entitled to air them in public so vociferously, or to level false accusations and threats against anyone. Please leave. And I’d appreciate it if you found another coffee shop to frequent, from now on.”
Baffled and frustrated at the way their rudeness had been forced into abatement, the couple turned from Phoebe, who continued to serenely sit and enjoy her snack, now placing their attention on him.
Clenching and unclenching his fists, the man stared at Gunther in disgust. “If that’s the way you feel about it, then you don’t deserve our business,” he growled.
“Throwing us out, after that creature did this to us, and calling me a witch,” the woman wailed. “I’ve never been so insulted!”
“How do you think I feel,” Phoebe asked. “Being accused of things I didn’t do! If I say I didn’t, then that should be good enough for you.”
In a huff, the couple marched out of Central Perk, their exit applauded by the other patrons.
Gunther went back to his counter, picking up a teapot. He quickly returned to Phoebe’s side, refilling her cup.
She blinked. “Oh! Thanks, Gunther. I’ll be leaving soon. Could I get my bill, please?”
He leaned over her. “It’s on the house today,” he murmured, glancing around to make sure that nobody overheard. “I know you were the one who did that to those people.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a business card and slipped it to her. “I have a cousin who’s with the new Magical Abuses Unit. He’s looking for recruits and consultants. You might want to consider looking into it.”
Back in business mode, he made his rounds, checking to see if anyone else needed anything more.
Sitting back, Phoebe examined the business card. “Consultants and recruits, huh,” she hummed softly to herself.
It was certainly food for thought.
