twoheadsofcabbage | The One With The Ex-Parrot: Video

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The One With The Ex-Parrot: Video

[Scrad sits on the zebra-print futon in his ~~puke~~ avocado green room. He has a small television set on his lap, which his arms are wrapped around protectively. He looks shell-shocked. Charlie, who is hovering behind him, looks livid.]

Y'know, normally we're all for pirate simulations? But turning half a guy into a parrot is not cool.

[Scrad agrees:]

Hnnngh.

[...because he's obsessively stroking his own tongue. Charlie twists around until he's facing his bodymate.]

Snap outta it!

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[Scrad asks:]

For what?

[Because they might know a guy.]

[Sounds like a good guy to know. Especially around here.]

Either I'm wronger than I've ever been [He's sure he isn't.] or we shared a drink. In the case of you and the parrot, literally.

[Charlie slithers past Scrad's shoulder so he can address the communicator more intimately.]

I dunno if you noticed, but we share everything, so.

And everything would include a fondness for cane sex? 'Cause one of you was hot for my walking stick.

[Scrad's brow creases. And then he bursts out laughing. He nearly tips over in his glee. Charlie remains hovering in more or less the same place, but he whirls in Scrad's direction.]

What?

[He twists back towards House.]

What? It was shiny! I was gonna swipe it! ...I was a parrot!

[He twists toward Scrad again, and none of those turns have been back in the opposite direction, so his neck-stalk in its red pleather sleeve is beginning to resemble a Twizzler.]

Fuck you!

A pervy parrot. Not that I'm judging or anything.

[He's not. He's too busy trying to figure out how Charlie's musculoskeletal system is put together. He'll get to judging in a minute.]

[Good luck with that. The Charlie bone's attached to the who-the-fuck-knows? He whines:]

Birds like shiny things.

[Scrad manages to stop laughing at himself long enough to point out:]

Might have also been a pirate thing.

[Pirates too like shiny things. They know this, because they've known a few. Of the space variety. Good beings. Hooks for tentacles and all that.]

[He can't really argue that point--both birds and pirates are attracted to shiny things. As a temporary pirate, he himself was attracted to shininess, among other qualities.]

I take it from the vehemence of your protests that you're not attracted to shiny things in your 'normal' form?

[They both consider this carefully. Scrad says:]

Depends what you mean by 'attracted to'.

[Charlie says:]

Depends how much it's worth.

So that's how it is, eh? I'll make sure to keep my shiny things locked up tight then.

[And damn it, he really wishes he had his pirate gold...although, come to think of it, Narvin stole that gold. He's going to have to follow up on that.]

Unless you've got a couple mil. lying around I wouldn't worry about it.

[Charlie adds:]

Our tastes are pretty expensive.

[Despite appearances.]

[With or without a couple million, he doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you.]

Expensive tastes, eh? Is that what landed you on this ship of fools?

[A lot of people seem to share that sentiment. They actually aren't all that untrustworthy; to be so requires a level of critical thinking they'd prefer someone else did, if at all possible. Scrad shrugs.]

Nobody told us; we just woke up here.

[But they're aware that it was probably the space terrorism.]

[Well, House doesn't trust anyone. The fact one of you tried to jump his cane has done nothing to change his default setting.]

Yeah, we all just woke up here with no explanation, but you know why you're here. [And now House wants to know.]

[Scrad hems and haws a little.]

We...may have been involved in a few...underhanded deals.

[Charlie adds:]

With a few...less than altruistic...psychopaths bent on wiping out entire races.

[Scrad shoots him a dirty look for spilling so many of the beans.]

Look. We're an informant, basically. We do a little grunt work, and we're aware that it's not exactly honorable, but everybody's gotta eat. And we personally happen to have two mouths to feed.

Edited 2012-03-21 00:24 (UTC)

[Have a highly skeptical House]

Give me a break. You didn't get sent here because you sold a little information. Not unless that information was a matter of ~~national~~ galactic security.

It wasn't, was it? Did you sell out your planet? Or anyone's planet?

[Charlie glances at his body-mate.]

Who said it was a little information?

[Scrad plays it cooler.]

We've sold a lot of stuff.

Nuclear weapons? Weaponized anthrax? The collected works of Britney Spears?

[Charlie bites his lower lip.]

Her music blows, but she is a hot little number.

[Or she was in 2002, where they're from.]

Aliens listen to Britney?

Well. So much for intelligent life in the universe.

[Charlie points out:]

We look at Britney.

[Scrad allows:]

But she does have a surprisingly broad fan-base.

[You have no idea how much this horrifies House. NO IDEA.]

Please tell me you also know John Coltrane. Bob Dylan? Mozart?

[Think of it this way: people aren't so different, no matter where in the universe they come from. We're all united under bad taste.

Coltrane and Mozart get nothing, but Scrad gives Bob a shrug.]

Dylan. Sure.

[Who doesn't know Bob Dylan? Charlie rattles off a few of their favs:]

We're more Lou Reed. Queen. The Sweet.

[In other words: 70's glam rock.]

Lou Reed is acceptable. And Queen, but only with Freddie Mercury.

[He knows bad taste, like stupidity, is pervasive among humans. He had hoped other species would not be similarly afflicted. Thanks for killing that one small hope, boys.]

So you know all about human so-called culture?

Naturally.

[So much so that they both say so. Scrad continues:]

We'd been working Earth for about four years. Fitting in's part of the job.

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