|Don't Feed the Plant
Author: Brambleshadow of WindClan PM
What happens when McGee brings in a plant that has a...particular diet? And who are the three mysterious chicks who keep popping up? Read and find out. Slight McAbby. Please R&R. Plotline is Howard Ashman's. ON HIATUS.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Horror - Tim M. & Audrey II - Chapters: 5 - Words: 3,891 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 5 - Updated: 09-10-10 - Published: 07-20-10 - id: 6160032
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Well enjoy this chapter. Warning: Contains death by OD.
The next night, after hours, McGee drove to Abby's new boyfriend's office. He had brought his gun with him just in case anything happened. Lost in thought, he almost didn't notice the office. Apparently, Jake was a private forensic pathology consultant andspecialized in identifying poisions. McGee parked the car on the street and entered the office. There were several people waiting there, terrified out of their wits. The NCIS agent could hear sadistic chuckles coming from another room. Then Jake appeared in the doorway.
McGee hesitantly raised his hand. "Special Agent McGee, NCIS. I have some samples for you. We spoke yesterday."
"Ah, yes, the guy with the plant. Come on in." He disappeared from view leaving McGee to follow him. As soon as he left, everyone else scrambled out of their chairs and bolted for the door, chairs squealing on the linoleum in their haste to get the heck out of there.
"Now, what was it you wanted to show me?" Jake asked McGee. He turned around and found himself face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. "Now, kid, what'cha doing pointing that at me? What did I ever do to you?"
"Oh, it's not really me. It more or less concerns Abby." McGee tried hard to keep the anger out of his voice, but it was thinly concealed.
"Who?" Jake tried to act innocent, but failed.
"You know, Goth, hyper, talkative" - McGee's voice hardened - "your girlfriend."
"Oh. Now, about those samples . . ."
McGee handed them over. They were from a ten-year cold case, so he doubted they would be missed.
The forensic scientist bent over them and got to work. After a few minutes, "I think I'm going to need some gas for this one."
You're kidding me. Laughing gas, for this? McGee tried hard not to laugh.
" You see, I find that a little giggle gas helps me concentrate. In fact, I think I'll use my special mask for this one. Wait here a moment, McGee." He vansihed into a dark room and reappeared a moment later with something similar to a firefighter's mask on his face. "Okay, I think I've had enough. You can axphixate on this stuff, you know." He reached up to undo the strap and pulled. It came clean off. "Oh, crap." Jake pulled on the mask, trying to loosen it. When he couldn't, he begged, "McGee, help me out here. The mask is stuck."
In response, McGee aimed the gun at Jake's chest.
"Oh. I guess you're not." Jake's voice sounded odd coming from inside the mask.
McGee heard a voice inside his head saying, Now, do it now. Just a flicker of pressure right here on the trigger and Abby won't have to put up with that pig for another day. Now, for the girl, now for the plant, now.
He mentally replied, Yes, I will. But I can't.
The NCIS agent was jolted out of his thought by Jake saying:
"Don't be fooled if I should giggle
Like a sappy happy dope
It's just the gas"
At that moment, a crazed laugh escaped him. He gasped, clutching his chest as he sank to his knees, and continued,
"It's got me high.
But don't let that fact decieve you.
Any moment I could die."
There was another maniacal laugh.
"Though I giggle and I chortle,
Bear in mind I'm not immortal.
Why this whole thing strikes me funny
I don't know
'Cause it's really a rotten way to go."
McGee thought to himself, What we have here is an ethical dilemma. 'Less I help him get the mask removed he doesn't have a prayer. True, the gun was never fired, but the way things transpired I could finish him with simple laissez faire.
"Don't be fooled if I should chuckle
Like heyenas in a zoo.
It's just the gas. It turns me on.
But don't let my mirth decieve you.
Any moment I'll be gone."
Jake's voice grew weaker and he slumped even lower.
"All my vital signs are failing
'Cause the oxide I'm inhaling
Makes it difficult as hell to catch my breath.
Are you dumb or heard of hearing
Or relieved my end is nearing?
Are you satisfied? I've laughed myself to -"
Upon those last words, he collapsed and didn't move.
"Death?" McGee finished for him.
Song I used in this chapter is "Now (It's Just the Gas) from Little Shop of Horrors. In the play, Seymour (he's kinda like McGee in this fanfic) goes to Orin's dental office (Orin is a sadistic dentist) to feed him to Audrey II and free Audrey from her abusive relationship. Orin uses laughing gas to increase his pleasure in inflicting pain in his patients. He uses tools used for woodworking, such as wrenches and drills - that happen to be dull and rusty. The original scene goes something like this:
Orin searched for the driil in his toolbox. "Now, let's get to work on your mouth, Seymour." He found it and pulled it out.
Seymour flinched. "Uh, no. Aren't you going to give me novicane for that?"
"What for? It dulls the senses." Orin was now searching for the proper bit.
"But, it'll hurt."
"Only 'til you pass out."
"Pass out?" Seymour gulped.
Orin walked over and started the drill. It whirred to life.
"But, it's rusty."
Irratibly, Orin switched it off and stroked it lovingly. "They don't make antiques like this anymore, Seymour. Painful. Rusty. Dull!" He started it up again. Seymour scrambled back in the dentist's chair as far as he could.
Suddenly, Orin paused, turned the drill off, and set it down. "You know, I think I'm going to need some gas."
"Oh, thank you!" Seymour cried in relief. "I thought you were never going to offer me any!"
"This isn't for you, Seymour. It's for me. You see, I find a little giggle gas before we begin increases my pleasure immensely."
And you know the rest. Well, please review and let me know what you think. It makes me very happy when you do!