Drabble issued by Smarty Cat. Lederhosen and a barbecue fork. I went a bit over my word limit, though. Thanks for the idea, Smarty, this was fun!
The Rule of Barbecue Forks
By Gundam Girl
Duo grinned. July 4th. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and the Colony would be getting a brilliant fireworks display at exactly eight o' clock. Even though the United States wasn't really independent anymore with the borders eliminated, it once had been independent. So, being American himself, he was willing to celebrate that. This was most certainly a day for traditions.
It was a day for barbecue.
Grasping the wooden-handled fork, he flipped over three more patties and watched them sizzle as red-hot flame burst up between them. And Hilde had been skeptical about him using a grill.
Hilde was looking particularly sexy today. Sitting on the deck he had made himself, beside the pool they had bought last year when the shop had flourished, she was wearing a neon green tube top and a pair of tight black leather pants. She was reading the latest issue of L2 Weekly and drinking a Diet Coke—the standard beverage of any woman.
Duo himself preferred beer; that was another thing that Independence Day called for, and he picked up his longneck and half-drained it. Some people just didn't understand customs.
Finally done, he gathered up all ten hamburgers, half with good ole' American cheese, half without, and placed them all on buns. Arranging the burgers so they were segregated by the cheese factor, he hefted the platter of them, grabbed his beer, mustard, and ketchup in his free hand, and held a jar of pickle relish between his elbow and ribs. With his barbecue fork clenched between his teeth, he made his way over to the small table where Hilde was.
Maybe later, he thought as he set down his load, he could convince his girlfriend to try skinny-dipping beneath the fireworks.
Playfully, he reached over to slide a hand over her leather-covered thigh, preparing for the light smack he would undoubtedly receive…and felt warm metal poke his cheek. Sharply.
"Aurgh!" was the sound Duo made as he reared back, dropping his beer, which promptly spilled. He whimpered as he reached up and inspected the damage. Hilde was on her feet, hands raised toward his face.
"Urh-urh," he sputtered, the wooden handle muffling him. "Don' tush ee."
Hilde set her hand on her hips. "Duo, you have a barbecue fork stuck in your cheek. I have to touch it."
"Am I bleedi'?" he inquired despairingly. God, he'd been shot before, and the pain of that was far different than an embedded barbecue fork.
"No, I don't think you will." Gently, Hilde reached up and grabbed the handle, slightly jarring Duo's bottom teeth. Then in a complete about-face, the German girl yanked with all of her might. Duo screeched as the fork slid out of his cheek. "Okay," Hilde corrected. "You might a little bit."
Duo pouted as she dabbed at his cheek with a napkin. "That hurt, ya know." His braid hung dejectedly at accordance with the throbbing in his face.
Hilde shrugged. "It's what you deserve—didn't you know you should never try to grope someone when you're within five feet of a barbecue fork?"
And that is the moral of the story! Please review!