What do we do with a Drunken Sailor (or Wasted Detectives)

Authors: Julia Webster and Jaye Reid

Written: 25 - 26/12/1999 (late Chrissie Day going into Boxing Day)

Disclaimer:: Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Hal has gone away....lets play with his Ratty dolls and have a spiffo day.. HEY!

Authors note: Okay.. it's nearly midnight.. Jaye's on ICQ.. we've been chatting for ages... got onto the topic of booze (as usual) and BANG... there's the idea.. so thanks Jaye! this ones for you! ::hands over a bottle:: BTW we're both pretty smashed when we wrote this, Jaye's on her Third of Baileys.. and I had WAYY to much Champers before.... that and it's like 1:30 a.m.!

~*~*~*~

Rachel Goldstein was not usually a heavy drinker, but tonight was different, tonight was New Years Eve. Everyone at the office was throwing one hell of a New Year's Party, camping on the roof with beers in hand, watching the fireworks as they lit up the harbour. Most people were plastered, totally.

Rachel looked over at Frank, beer in hand, watching the sky change colours as millions of dollars of pyrotechnics went up in smoke. Taking another swig of her near empty bottle, she contemplated their relationship. Her already groggy mind refused to cooperate as her hand reached over for yet another beer.

In the distance she could hear Frank and Jack arguing drunkenly about who could outdrink each other.. their voices filling her mind with an idea.

"I've had 5 beers mate.. and I can still sock ya square" Jacks voice echoed.

"Mate... 7 beers.. and not a shake!" Franks voice returned.

Rachel could almost see him holding his hand out in front of him, determined to have it not shaking. Knowing that she WAS the best drinker, she couldn't rightly let Jack and Frank think they were, could she?

"Listen you too BOYS," she emphasised. " I could outdrink the BOTH of ya anydays" she said, already walking towards the table full of booze.

"Nah Rach, I bet ya I could.... no doubt!" Jack defended, too drunk to know when he was in for a hiding.

"You're ON!" Rachel exclaimed, pulling up a chair in front of the table, grabbing two for the other competitors as Tayler started to hand out the beer.

"Round ONE!" Gav. shouted, signalling for all 3 to start.

Many beers and pounding heads later, Rachel slowly stood up, grinning at the two plastered detectives opposite her.

"I think I won boys" she said to Frank, who was trying not to loose his beer over the side of the chair.

Grabbing her bag she started to say goodbye to everyone, knowing that she was too plastered to drive and prepared for the sobering walk home. By the time she returned to the roof from saying goodbye to Helen downstairs, both Jack AND Frank were standing, seemingly arguing over who was going to walk her home.

"Mate... I'M walking her home." Jack yelled.

"Noo wayyy mate, I'M walking her home. you cant even walk YOURSELF!" Franks voice boomed.

Hearing this Rachel headed towards them, incoming doom on her face. "Look you two LOSERS, I'm quite capable of walking MYSELF home!" she spat, stalking off rather wonkily in the general direction of the stairs.

She passing Rat, who was licking some spilt booze before staggering at a very strange angle in the direction of his basket. Rachel staggered down the stairs, blaming the heels that she was wearing for her trouble.

A short while later, a much more sober Rachel Goldstein arrived at her townhouse. She walked wearily up the path before rummaging around in her handbag to find her keys. Hearing two sets of footsteps approaching behind her she turned to see two drunk faces. Jack and Frank.

"What the HELL do ya think you two are doing?" she yelled, the walk having done wonders for her drunken mind.

Frank looked sheepishly at his shoes like a lost puppy. "We couldn't decide over who was gonna walk ya home Rach, so we both did," he said. Seemingly on a roll he continued. " I mean Rach, there are all kinda of weirdos out there.. and they could have gotten to ya... and so....we... kinda followed ya to make sure you were okay."

Rachel just looked at him, then at Jack, trying to decide who was looked stupider. Sighing she found her keys, unlocked the door, and let the two men into her house.

"God I need another drink," Frank said as he headed STRAIGHT for her kitchen, pulling open various cupboards before finding the wine rack filled with champagne.

"Don't ya have any BOOZE in here?" Frank spat, slightly put out by the fact that there WAS a house in Sydney that didn't have booze in it.

"Well I WASN'T expecting company Frank. But since you're here, grab some champers, we'll have that instead," she said wearily.

She didn't REALLY want champers, or anything really, just bed, that lovely sleep thing would be good right now. Grabbing the wine glasses she headed for the lounge room where Jack and now Frank were camping by the newly relocated wine-rack. Passing out the glasses she selected a rather newish bottle from the rack, popped the cork, and filled the glasses. Raising her glass she toasted her two workmates.

"Cheers guys, to the new millennium" she said, choosing to forget the fact that Champagne and beer were two completely different things.

"Yeah but!" Jack protested, taking a generous swig from his glass. The new millennium don't actually START till next year not this one.. cos you remember the whole century thing from school?" he babbled on about some thing he'd learned in year 8 for the next bottle. Each took turns to explain the REAL meaning of New Years ( and Christmas as Jack lost the train of topic.. AGAIN ) before Rachel gave up trying to drink from the dainty wine glass and moved straight into 'bottle mode'.

Following Rachel's example, both Jack and Frank went into total 'bottle mode' taking giant swigs from their bottles. Finishing hers first, Rachel placed her now empty bottle on the floor between them, spinning it until it stopped, facing Jack.

"Hey there Jack... Truth.. or Dare" she said, a dimpled smile on her face. What actually possessed her to play such a ridiculous game she had no idea, but hell, ya gotta keep do SOMETHING with the empties!

"What the..." Jack started, not understanding what was actually going on.

"Truth or Dare Jack.. pick one.. you know.. truth or dare?" Rachel scoffed back at him.. so maybe there WAS someone who she could outdrink at Champers.....

"Umm Truth," Jack slurred, leaning back against the lounge. Thinking hard Rachel pondered the questions she could ask....

"Hows about... do you REALLY iron and starch.. starrrrtch... starch your sheets?" she finished, getting rather pissed off at her mouth's refusal to co-operate.

Frank seemed to wonder what the hell was going on.

"Who the frig would iron their sheets? let alone STARCH them?" he said, trying to comprehend the fact that there may also be houses in Sydney that actually WASH and IRON their sheets, unlike him who was lucky to even HAVE more than one set of sheets. The shocking truth hit him like another 4 bottles of champagne.

"Don't tell me.. YOU iron your sheets?" he slurred.

"So what if I do!" she replied indignantly, just cos she was pissed didn't mean she was a pushover!

"OOOOO this I wanna see!" Frank giggled as he grabbed his bottle and headed up the stairs into Rachel's bedroom.

"Hey! no FAIR!" She screamed, grabbing her bottle and rising a trifle unsteady to scamper behind him, leaving Jack still wondering what the frig was going on.

Moments later the majority of Rachel's bedclothes were in a heap on the floor, Frank stretched out on her bed, revelling in the crisp ironed sheets.

"Get OFF my bed!" Rachel whined, too pissed to get REALLY angry at him for messing up her bed like that.

"OOOOOOO these are NICE!" Frank slurred, accidentally spilling the remainder of his bottle while he rolled over.

"Awww crappppppp, need 'nother bottle" he rolled off the bed, strangely enough landed on his feet, and tottered back downstairs for another bottle.

Returning downstairs they found Jack passed out with the bottle still in his hand. Reaching over him Rachel grabbed the blanket from the lounge and draped it over him before plonking back down in front of the wine-rack. Frank span the bottle again, this time it landed at Rachel.

"Truth or Dare Rachie" he said, smiling at his chance.

"Aw heck.. Ummmm Truth!" she said, wondering what the frig he was grinning about.

"Would you come over and sleep in MY bed if I ironed and starched MY sheets?" he said, a killer smile lighting up his drunken face.

"What kind of a Question is THAT?" she spat... trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Frank had just asked her to sleep with him.

"It legit...... just answer it TRUTHFULLY" he said back.

The killer smile still there, sending her already foggy mind into a cities smog of interesting thoughts. She tried another tactic, picking up the vintage Champers from the bottom of the wine-rack and handing it to Frank.

"Here.. have some GOOD stuff," she said, trying to change the subject.

It didn't work.

"Rach,... you know the rules... TRUTH!" he said, taking a swig from the new bottle.

"Hell I dunno," she said as she trying to exaggerate the fact that she REALLY was REALLY pissed and didn't feel like playing such a stupid game anymore. I mean WHO would start such a silly game in the first place.. oh. hang on... oppps.......

"Rachie, you.. me... my place.. nice iron starched... hell I'll even make 'em NEW sheets" he said, getting rather desperate for a response.

"Rachie?" he slurred.

"Well MAYBE... under the right circumstances... and if you REALLY ironed your sheets well.. and.." quickly she spun the bottle again, seeing her chance out of such an embarrassing question. If she weren't so drunk she'd have socked him LONG ago!

Thankfully the bottle stopped on the now snoring Jack.

"I don't think he wants to play anymore" Frank said in his little kid voice.

"Yeah... bastard didn't answer the last one anyways," Rachel shot back in reply.

Frank looked over at the now snoring Jack.

"So what is it about ironed sheets?"

"Ah... don't worry about it Frank... anyway... let's just drink and stop playing this silly game."

"Well if you don't like the sound of my ironed sheets what about your own?" he persisted.

"Nah... come on Frank... I've had enough of the game."

"Who says I'm still playin' it?"

Rachel looked over at Frank. Gees she must be pissed she thought... it actually wasn't sounding like a too bad proposition.

"What about him?" she asked waving her almost empty bottle towards Jack.

"Well I dunno if there's room for three.... I didn't think .... you in ta that are ya Rachie?"

"Nah, I'm not! Shit Frank.... maybe another day... I don't think either of us are capable of gettin' up those bloody stairs..."

"Hmm, maybe you're right," he replied. In his drunken state he almost didn't register that she had given him a raincheck on the invitation. He put another empty bottle down on the floor beside him.

"Shit Rachie... I think we're pissed."

"Oh nah Francis... I KNOW we're pissed."

Rachel stretched herself out on the floor, Frank did likewise.

"I don't think I can move" she whined.

"I think I am there too," he replied.

"Jack is a real party poo... pooper isn't he," she laughed.

Well she thought it was her laugh.

"Yep."

"Goodnight Frank."

"Yep... goodnight Rachie."

The End