run for the hills.
Oct. 12th, 2006 02:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fenella670 words of crack. I'm clearly insane to write this, because I may be the only person on the face of the earth who has read both sets of Gordon Korman books on which this is based AND watched "The Class". In any case, "The Class" is wonderfully silly, and Yonk Allen made me think of Hank the Tank Carson right away. If I feel like humouring myself, I may finish this one day. The noise in the kitchen is meant to be the house falling in, like Duncan's predicted, so that he can come join in the fun. And naturally Jardine would be thrilled to meet a REAL LIVE WEATHER REPORTER, Holly. In the meantime:
OLD SCHOOL
a Zucchini Warriors/Semester in the Life of a Garbage Bag/The Class cross-over fic
*
Nicole Allen was dimly aware that when her husband was young (and dinosaurs roamed the earth), he’d attended an all boys boarding school up in Canada, where he grew up. She knew that he’d gone back to coach football at that same school after his first divorce and that also, the Canadians called him “Hank the Tank” instead of Yonk.
She’d discovered this curiousity after a press trip to Toronto with Yonk (he was opening a new steak house), where he’d told her some silly anecdote about how for legal and publicity reasons, he’d changed name shortly after moving to America. Apparently there was some pulp fiction author who’d already claimed the name “Hank Carson”.
It was like Thanksgiving, Nicole had decided. Both Canadians and Americans celebrated the same basic holiday but in Canada, Thanksgiving was in October; similar to how they seemed to favour Yonk’s early days with the Green Bay Packers. The Americans, fond of their brash Thanksgiving parades, relished Yonk’s glory days with the Eagles.
It was strange, conceded Nicole. But she’d already decided that Canadians were strange people and she, after all, was hardly one to preach the virtues of normalcy.
Nicole was married to football legend of her childhood, Yonk Allen.
*
On Thanksgiving Day, November 2006, Nicole opened the door of her Philadelphia home to see four college-aged boys standing on the doorstep. Two were shifting uncomfortably and a third was staring up at the sky, mumbling distractedly. The fourth boy was beaming at her with alarming cheer.
“Hello,” said the fourth. “I’m Bruno – is Mr. Carson in? We were passing through The City of Brotherly Love and wanted to surprise him. And well, maybe stay for a quick visit, but…”
In the time that it took for Nicole to follow this thought through, Yonk had arrived from the kitchen, waving a spatula.
“Boys!” Boomed Yonk, obviously delighted. “Walton, O’Neil and…?” He broke off here, frowning.
“Oh no,” said Bruno earnestly, while the one called ‘O’Neil’ eyed Yonk’s red apron (with a large cartoon cow on the front) dubiously. “You don’t know these guys.”
“This is my roommate at NYU, Sean.” Bruno pointed to the tall, athletic boy. “And his friend, Raymond Jardine.”
“How do you do,” said Raymond sincerely, though fidgeting and not quite meeting Nicole or Yonk’s eyes.
Yonk grinned toothily. “Any friends of you boys are friends of mine.”
“Great!” Exclaimed Bruno. “Then we can crash here for dinner?”
“Bruno,” hissed Boots, cheeks flushing. Turning to the Allens, he added “We can go, if it’s too much trouble.”
“I’ll forget you ever said that, O’Neil.” Yonk pointed the spatula at Boots before turning to his wife. “We’d love to have you stay, wouldn’t we baby?”
Nicole managed a weak half-smile.
“I’ll go stick on some more steaks,” Yonk finished. “You boys make yourselves at home.”
“Steak?” asked Bruno, watching Yonk’s retreating back.
“I hope you don’t mind,” said Nicole a little too sweetly, shutting the door behind them. “We don’t do turkey dinner here, it’s steak.”
“Oh no, that won’t be a problem,” answered Bruno, oblivious to any sarcasm.
“At least it’s not zucchini,” mumbled Boots, and there was a moment of silence as he and Bruno shuddered simultaneously.
“Hey,” said Sean, picking up the conversation. “It’s such an honour to meet your Dad. Yonk has been one of my heroes for, pretty much, ever.”
Nicole’s eyes narrowed. “Yonk’s not my father. We’re married.”
Sean’s mouth dropped open in horror. “But… so sorry… young…”
“Nice one Delancey.” Raymond grinned maniacally, smiling at Nicole for the first time. “You’ll have to excuse him, ma’am.” Raymond looked at Nicole meaningfully and mouthed. “He’s a little sick.”
Nicole’s features softened towards Sean, lowering her voice. “I’m so sorry. Do you mind if ask…?”
“Not at all. Poor kid, he suffers from attacks of severe insensitivity.” Raymond smacked Sean on the backside of his head.
“Ow!” cried Sean as Boots rolled his eyes. “What was that for?”
Before Raymond could answer, there was a loud crash from the kitchen.
*
OLD SCHOOL
a Zucchini Warriors/Semester in the Life of a Garbage Bag/The Class cross-over fic
Nicole Allen was dimly aware that when her husband was young (and dinosaurs roamed the earth), he’d attended an all boys boarding school up in Canada, where he grew up. She knew that he’d gone back to coach football at that same school after his first divorce and that also, the Canadians called him “Hank the Tank” instead of Yonk.
She’d discovered this curiousity after a press trip to Toronto with Yonk (he was opening a new steak house), where he’d told her some silly anecdote about how for legal and publicity reasons, he’d changed name shortly after moving to America. Apparently there was some pulp fiction author who’d already claimed the name “Hank Carson”.
It was like Thanksgiving, Nicole had decided. Both Canadians and Americans celebrated the same basic holiday but in Canada, Thanksgiving was in October; similar to how they seemed to favour Yonk’s early days with the Green Bay Packers. The Americans, fond of their brash Thanksgiving parades, relished Yonk’s glory days with the Eagles.
It was strange, conceded Nicole. But she’d already decided that Canadians were strange people and she, after all, was hardly one to preach the virtues of normalcy.
Nicole was married to football legend of her childhood, Yonk Allen.
On Thanksgiving Day, November 2006, Nicole opened the door of her Philadelphia home to see four college-aged boys standing on the doorstep. Two were shifting uncomfortably and a third was staring up at the sky, mumbling distractedly. The fourth boy was beaming at her with alarming cheer.
“Hello,” said the fourth. “I’m Bruno – is Mr. Carson in? We were passing through The City of Brotherly Love and wanted to surprise him. And well, maybe stay for a quick visit, but…”
In the time that it took for Nicole to follow this thought through, Yonk had arrived from the kitchen, waving a spatula.
“Boys!” Boomed Yonk, obviously delighted. “Walton, O’Neil and…?” He broke off here, frowning.
“Oh no,” said Bruno earnestly, while the one called ‘O’Neil’ eyed Yonk’s red apron (with a large cartoon cow on the front) dubiously. “You don’t know these guys.”
“This is my roommate at NYU, Sean.” Bruno pointed to the tall, athletic boy. “And his friend, Raymond Jardine.”
“How do you do,” said Raymond sincerely, though fidgeting and not quite meeting Nicole or Yonk’s eyes.
Yonk grinned toothily. “Any friends of you boys are friends of mine.”
“Great!” Exclaimed Bruno. “Then we can crash here for dinner?”
“Bruno,” hissed Boots, cheeks flushing. Turning to the Allens, he added “We can go, if it’s too much trouble.”
“I’ll forget you ever said that, O’Neil.” Yonk pointed the spatula at Boots before turning to his wife. “We’d love to have you stay, wouldn’t we baby?”
Nicole managed a weak half-smile.
“I’ll go stick on some more steaks,” Yonk finished. “You boys make yourselves at home.”
“Steak?” asked Bruno, watching Yonk’s retreating back.
“I hope you don’t mind,” said Nicole a little too sweetly, shutting the door behind them. “We don’t do turkey dinner here, it’s steak.”
“Oh no, that won’t be a problem,” answered Bruno, oblivious to any sarcasm.
“At least it’s not zucchini,” mumbled Boots, and there was a moment of silence as he and Bruno shuddered simultaneously.
“Hey,” said Sean, picking up the conversation. “It’s such an honour to meet your Dad. Yonk has been one of my heroes for, pretty much, ever.”
Nicole’s eyes narrowed. “Yonk’s not my father. We’re married.”
Sean’s mouth dropped open in horror. “But… so sorry… young…”
“Nice one Delancey.” Raymond grinned maniacally, smiling at Nicole for the first time. “You’ll have to excuse him, ma’am.” Raymond looked at Nicole meaningfully and mouthed. “He’s a little sick.”
Nicole’s features softened towards Sean, lowering her voice. “I’m so sorry. Do you mind if ask…?”
“Not at all. Poor kid, he suffers from attacks of severe insensitivity.” Raymond smacked Sean on the backside of his head.
“Ow!” cried Sean as Boots rolled his eyes. “What was that for?”
Before Raymond could answer, there was a loud crash from the kitchen.
