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Fic: You Say You Want a Resolution
Title: You Say You Want a Resolution
Fandom: Arrested Development
Rated: PG-13 for suggestive dialog
Spoilers: None, really.
A/N: My first fic in a new fandom. Woo! I have a feeling it won't be the last since this was a blast to write! Huge thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nandamai and poohmusings! *smoooch*
*
*
Michael put his mug down on the counter, having spotted a familiar-looking pair of legs dangling over the side of the couch. "Hey, George Michael. Up for a game of..."
An unnaturally blonde head of hair popped into view.
"Lindsay. Sorry. Thought you were George Michael because of..." He eyed her bare legs. "...doesn't matter. Whatcha doing?"
"Eh, you know." Her head flopped back down.
Michael did know since magazine reading had become Lindsay's full-time occupation. It had all been part of her grand resolution on New Year's Eve, after Maeby had sarcastically announced that *her* New Year's resolution was to become more like her mother by lying on the couch and reading magazines. Unfortunately for Lindsay, one too many shots of tequila had taken away her ability to recognize sarcasm and so she had spent much of the night drunkenly filling out subscription cards.
"How's that New Year's resolution coming?"
"The what?"
"Never mind." Something in the foyer caught Michael's eye and he glanced over. "What is *that*?"
Lindsay craned her neck. "Oh. That. Gob had his scooter detailed or something."
Michael walked over to the offending scooter. "Are...are these gold-plated handles?"
"I think there might be a DVD player in there somewhere."
"A DVD...where'd he get the money?"
Lindsay sighed. "Where does anyone get money?"
"Normal people? A real job. But that still doesn't answer the question about Gob."
Meanwhile, the real George Michael was at his real job at the banana stand, trying not to sweat in the unseasonably warm March weather, but failing miserably. A fact that did not go unnoticed by Maeby.
"Why are you wearing long pants? It's like a million degrees."
Unbeknownst to Maeby, George Michael's New Year's resolution was to grow manly hair where there should be manly hair, such as his legs. But unsure of the best way to grow manly hair, his plan for growing said hair involved the internet and "Dr. Francis Zimmerman's Amazing Hair Cream." Unfortunately, after two months of consistent use George Michael discovered that Dr. Francis Zimmerman's Amazing Hair Cream did in no way grow hair, but instead made his existing hair fall out and his skin practically glow.
"Well, I...I mean, I think pants show a good business work ethic."
"You're standing in a twenty-foot banana."
"You can have a good business ethic in a banana."
Maeby stared at him. "Do you listen to yourself?"
"Hey niece and nephew." Buster strolled up to the stand.
"Oh hi, Uncle Buster. Whatcha got in your hand?"
"I want you both to meet Mr. Willy." Buster opened his hand.
"Oh my God!" Maeby cringed. "What the hell is that?!"
Recently, in an attempt to avoid passing Gob on the street, Buster had ducked into the local Humane Society where he discovered that it was not, as his mother had informed him, "the place where they kill puppies," but was in fact a place where they gave away pets. At that moment he made a somewhat late New Year's resolution to become more animal-friendly. And while most encounters in the "pet try-out room" did not go very well, Buster finally found his match.
"That'd be my naked mole rat." Buster stroked it.
Maeby wrinkled her nose. "That's disgusting. It's so hairless and pink."
"There's nothing wrong with that!" George Michael said a little too loudly. He twitched as Maeby and Buster stared at him. "Right, Uncle Buster? I mean, that's the way it's supposed to be."
"It's a freak of nature," Maeby retorted.
Buster closed his hand and pulled it close to him. "Don't talk about my little Willy like that! He may be strange...and small...and ugly, but he's mine!"
"We're sorry," George Michael offered.
"See if I ever show my Willy to you two again!"
And while Buster proceeded to spend the morning stroking his beloved Willy, Michael spent it trying to track down Gob by visiting his favorite haunts. But he ended up back home, exhausted and disappointed. It was there he discovered that Gob had been sleeping behind the couch the entire morning, but was now awake and in the middle of his afternoon breakfast at the kitchen counter.
"Hey, Michael! Check out the new watch!"
Michael instinctively glanced at his own wrist first to make sure his watch hadn't mysteriously disappeared.
"Pretty snazzy, huh? Plus it can go underwater. That'll come in handy in my new Triton's Revenge illusion."
"Triton...Gob!" Michael waved his arm towards the scooter. "What's the deal with all this new stuff?"
"It's all part of my New Year's resolution."
"Which would be...?"
"To have more stuff. And money. Basically, greater wealth."
Unlike Buster, Gob's New Year's resolution had actually been made on New Year's Eve. Seeing Lindsay fill out a stack of magazine subscription cards and thinking that Michael had given her the money to do this, he had approached Michael to see if he could also get some money for a new underwater illusion he had his eye on. Predictably Michael had turned him down, telling him that he needed to get his own money. After rejecting several ideas, one of which involved selling star maps to Carl Weathers' home, he came up with a plan.
"Well, Gob, it's always good to hear that you're trying to better yourself."
"Isn't it? I call it my Master Plan. The Grande Tamale, if you will. The Big Cheese Enchilada. The Whole Tortilla."
"You had Mexican for dinner last night, didn't you?"
"How'd you know?"
"Where'd you get the money, Gob?"
"What, don't you trust me?"
Michael stared at him.
"Relax. I didn't get it from the company. Or prostitution."
"Just tell me where you got it."
Gob held out his hand. "Say hello to Dr. Francis Zimmerman."
Michael's right eye twitched.
"I really don't want to know about this, do I?"
"Probably not."
*
On the next Arrested Development...
Gob receives a visit from the American Medical Association. "Dr. Zimmerman, I presume?"
And Buster loses his pet in a freak accident. "Oh my God! You sat on my Willy!"
Fandom: Arrested Development
Rated: PG-13 for suggestive dialog
Spoilers: None, really.
A/N: My first fic in a new fandom. Woo! I have a feeling it won't be the last since this was a blast to write! Huge thanks to
nandamai and poohmusings! *smoooch**
*
Michael put his mug down on the counter, having spotted a familiar-looking pair of legs dangling over the side of the couch. "Hey, George Michael. Up for a game of..."
An unnaturally blonde head of hair popped into view.
"Lindsay. Sorry. Thought you were George Michael because of..." He eyed her bare legs. "...doesn't matter. Whatcha doing?"
"Eh, you know." Her head flopped back down.
Michael did know since magazine reading had become Lindsay's full-time occupation. It had all been part of her grand resolution on New Year's Eve, after Maeby had sarcastically announced that *her* New Year's resolution was to become more like her mother by lying on the couch and reading magazines. Unfortunately for Lindsay, one too many shots of tequila had taken away her ability to recognize sarcasm and so she had spent much of the night drunkenly filling out subscription cards.
"How's that New Year's resolution coming?"
"The what?"
"Never mind." Something in the foyer caught Michael's eye and he glanced over. "What is *that*?"
Lindsay craned her neck. "Oh. That. Gob had his scooter detailed or something."
Michael walked over to the offending scooter. "Are...are these gold-plated handles?"
"I think there might be a DVD player in there somewhere."
"A DVD...where'd he get the money?"
Lindsay sighed. "Where does anyone get money?"
"Normal people? A real job. But that still doesn't answer the question about Gob."
Meanwhile, the real George Michael was at his real job at the banana stand, trying not to sweat in the unseasonably warm March weather, but failing miserably. A fact that did not go unnoticed by Maeby.
"Why are you wearing long pants? It's like a million degrees."
Unbeknownst to Maeby, George Michael's New Year's resolution was to grow manly hair where there should be manly hair, such as his legs. But unsure of the best way to grow manly hair, his plan for growing said hair involved the internet and "Dr. Francis Zimmerman's Amazing Hair Cream." Unfortunately, after two months of consistent use George Michael discovered that Dr. Francis Zimmerman's Amazing Hair Cream did in no way grow hair, but instead made his existing hair fall out and his skin practically glow.
"Well, I...I mean, I think pants show a good business work ethic."
"You're standing in a twenty-foot banana."
"You can have a good business ethic in a banana."
Maeby stared at him. "Do you listen to yourself?"
"Hey niece and nephew." Buster strolled up to the stand.
"Oh hi, Uncle Buster. Whatcha got in your hand?"
"I want you both to meet Mr. Willy." Buster opened his hand.
"Oh my God!" Maeby cringed. "What the hell is that?!"
Recently, in an attempt to avoid passing Gob on the street, Buster had ducked into the local Humane Society where he discovered that it was not, as his mother had informed him, "the place where they kill puppies," but was in fact a place where they gave away pets. At that moment he made a somewhat late New Year's resolution to become more animal-friendly. And while most encounters in the "pet try-out room" did not go very well, Buster finally found his match.
"That'd be my naked mole rat." Buster stroked it.
Maeby wrinkled her nose. "That's disgusting. It's so hairless and pink."
"There's nothing wrong with that!" George Michael said a little too loudly. He twitched as Maeby and Buster stared at him. "Right, Uncle Buster? I mean, that's the way it's supposed to be."
"It's a freak of nature," Maeby retorted.
Buster closed his hand and pulled it close to him. "Don't talk about my little Willy like that! He may be strange...and small...and ugly, but he's mine!"
"We're sorry," George Michael offered.
"See if I ever show my Willy to you two again!"
And while Buster proceeded to spend the morning stroking his beloved Willy, Michael spent it trying to track down Gob by visiting his favorite haunts. But he ended up back home, exhausted and disappointed. It was there he discovered that Gob had been sleeping behind the couch the entire morning, but was now awake and in the middle of his afternoon breakfast at the kitchen counter.
"Hey, Michael! Check out the new watch!"
Michael instinctively glanced at his own wrist first to make sure his watch hadn't mysteriously disappeared.
"Pretty snazzy, huh? Plus it can go underwater. That'll come in handy in my new Triton's Revenge illusion."
"Triton...Gob!" Michael waved his arm towards the scooter. "What's the deal with all this new stuff?"
"It's all part of my New Year's resolution."
"Which would be...?"
"To have more stuff. And money. Basically, greater wealth."
Unlike Buster, Gob's New Year's resolution had actually been made on New Year's Eve. Seeing Lindsay fill out a stack of magazine subscription cards and thinking that Michael had given her the money to do this, he had approached Michael to see if he could also get some money for a new underwater illusion he had his eye on. Predictably Michael had turned him down, telling him that he needed to get his own money. After rejecting several ideas, one of which involved selling star maps to Carl Weathers' home, he came up with a plan.
"Well, Gob, it's always good to hear that you're trying to better yourself."
"Isn't it? I call it my Master Plan. The Grande Tamale, if you will. The Big Cheese Enchilada. The Whole Tortilla."
"You had Mexican for dinner last night, didn't you?"
"How'd you know?"
"Where'd you get the money, Gob?"
"What, don't you trust me?"
Michael stared at him.
"Relax. I didn't get it from the company. Or prostitution."
"Just tell me where you got it."
Gob held out his hand. "Say hello to Dr. Francis Zimmerman."
Michael's right eye twitched.
"I really don't want to know about this, do I?"
"Probably not."
*
On the next Arrested Development...
Gob receives a visit from the American Medical Association. "Dr. Zimmerman, I presume?"
And Buster loses his pet in a freak accident. "Oh my God! You sat on my Willy!"
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Well *I* like it, anyway. But of course you really only wrote it for your betas anyway.
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This surprises you? There are probably two people in the world who are interested in reading AD fics. :D
Well *I* like it, anyway. But of course you really only wrote it for your betas anyway.
*smooooooooch* (And yes, I did. Heh.)
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Isn't that how things are supposed to be? :)
Ooh! My copy/paste function is back! W00t!
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Of course!
Ooh! My copy/paste function is back! W00t!
Um, yay?
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Oh dear. Willy jokes, dude.
And Gob decides he's a doctor. MWAH ha ha ha!
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You can't go wrong with a willy joke, can you? ;)
And Gob decides he's a doctor. MWAH ha ha ha!
Hee hee!! :D
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Woo Hoo!
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:)
I just want you to be a writer on the show so I cn pop by and hang with the cast.
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Nah. Been out of that scene way too long.
I just want you to be a writer on the show so I cn pop by and hang with the cast.
I *knew* it! ;)