Dionaea - Feddnouncer Ficlet
It has a title now. Incredible
xXx
“So you do have an office.”
“Au contraire, my dear Feddins.” Announcer says, and Fedd shudders and groans in disgust. “You have an office.”
Announcer grins and looks pleased with himself. Which means he either believes that he’s done something amazing, or, that he’s done something that’ll make Fedd groan for an eternity.
Fedd looks around the room. The little lamp by the door keeps blinking. He squints, trying to find a spot not covered in dust. He’d be less willing to hit Announcer if there were at least one. Or if the table had four legs. He would have been happy with just three.
“Why is there a crêpe stuck to the ceiling?”
“Why do our three hearts beat?” Fedd raises an eyebrow as Announcer waltzes around him, eventually choosing to stand right in front of him smiling a very wide, very smug, smile that gets on his nerves.
“You know that we, as in we human beings, don’t have…” he trails off, stares at Announcer and gives up.
Announcer lets the shutter shades drop down his nose, tilts his head and stares at Fedd with his eyebrows raised. Fedd thinks that maybe he’s expecting something. Announcer wiggles his eyebrows and Fedd grimaces.
“What?”
Announcer’s face drops. It’s like it just drops to the floor, to stay there in misery. The corners of his mouth turn down, down, down…
“What the what, Feddster? I got you an office. See? With a little plant and everything!” Fedd glances over Announcer’s shoulders and sees something that looks vaguely like an unhealthily brown flytrap. If flytraps had tiny arms, that is. He makes a low humming noise and Announcer leans in.
“I don’t think that’s a plant.”
Announcer sighs and it’s so dramatic Fedd half expects him to faint. He holds that little hope with him until Announcer is done sighing and opens his arms wide.
“This is the best room we have, you know!” and knowing how things are, he doesn’t doubt it. Fedd sighs, looks at the room one last time and frowns.
“Ok so what do you want?”
Announcer tries to feign innocence for a couple of seconds. He tries hard, eyes opened wide and lips pouting and trembling, but he realizes that it isn’t doing anything. Well, it’s making Fedd groan louder and that’s not a good thing for it to be making happen.
So he shrugs, straightens his back and smiles.
“You see, I want to discuss a thing. About who’s gonna tell the kids about Santa, know what I mean?” Fedd doesn’t have a clue of what Announcer’s talking about and he’s not sure about whether he wants to know or not. Announcer squints at him “Beachball juice, pocket dimension, we’re all gonna die yadda yadda. That thing.”
Oh. That thing.
Fedd breaths, massages his temples with a grunt. It’s way too early in this hell of a contest – whatever it is – to even think about that. It’s not a sure thing, anyway. And if it were, he’s not going to risk his ass telling a bunch of weirdos that they’re all trapped or something like that.
“Announcer,” he says, trying to be reasonable “If we have to tell them, I’m not going to step out there to do so.”
Announcer opens his mouth, raises a finger, points at Fedd, his eyebrows drawn together and his belt device starting to ring out a tune.
Fedd looks down, lips a thin line, and crosses his arms.
“Your crotch is singing Toy Boy.”
“Come on, Feddson, cut me some slack. Here I was, trying to bare my soul to you and what do you do?” Announcer glares at him over his shutter glasses and Fedd might’ve tried to take him seriously if his crotch weren’t singing he’s my gigolo and my Romeo ”I am more than my beautiful face and my crotch, Feddmer.”
Fedd agrees. He’s way more than that. He’s annoying to no end, for starters.
“Announcer I don’t want to talk about this if your dick’s gonna tell me that I’m its boy toy.” Announcer snorts and Fedd grumbles. The whole conversation is getting out of hand and he doesn’t know how much longer he will be able to stand it without kicking Announcer’s shin.
At least his crotch isn’t singing anymore. That’s a step forward.
Announcer clears his throat and as he turns on his heel to face in the same direction as Fedd he throws an arm around his back leaning forward. Fedd starts walking grudgingly with Announcer pushing him through a corridor.
“Can I tell you the truth, Feddpal? This is gonna make me, us, rich. I think. If I do things right. We’re gonna surf on money, you gettin’ me?” He stops, straightens pulling on Fedd’s jumper to stop him too “Have you ever wanted to buy an island? Or I don’t know a less grumpy face?”
Fedd tugs on his sleeve and kicks Announcer’s shin.
“HEY what was that for?” Announcer says and sighs, making a show out of rubbing his shin. Complete with lots of whining: “Fedd Middlename Surname, you ungrateful surly-hat!”
“I have work to do. You figure out that beachball thing and we can talk after that” Fedd knows that it’s a mistake to trust Announcer with any task. It’s a mistake to trust Announcer, full stop. But he’s tired of dealing with him for the time being. It’s been less than thirty minutes and he wants to slam his head against the wall or Announcer’s, maybe both.
He doesn’t wait for Announcer to reply before he starts walking, steps making more noise than necessary just for the sake of being annoying. Announcer pulls a face at his back and sighs, shaking his head.
