Bodiless Off-Screen Voice which always, strangely, sounds the same on every show: Okay, let's give it up for everybody's favorite gal, Muffin Is Injured!

Muffin: (insert giant smile with fake shiny teeth) Hey there, folks! I'm your host, Muffin is Injured. (adjusts toupee) And who here is ready to PLAY… THE… GAME!

(Remember, every word has a strange pause in the middle, and the last word drawn out and intermingles with the shouts of the crowd.)

(Crowd shouts.)

Muffin: That's right, you're ready. So let's get started!

Crowd Member #1: WITH A WOO AND A HOO!

Muffin: Right on, Crowd Member Number One!


Muffin: Well, that's a relief.

Crowd Member #3: One for the woo, two for the hoo!

Muffin: Well, we don't want want the woo to feel less important than the hoo.

Crowd Member #4: What a catastrophe that would be.

Muffin: Well, without further ado, let's bring out the STAR of the show…

Okay, so get ready to be the happiest little camper in the whole camping ground. This, my dear nature-loving friends, is, finally, a Muffin multi-chapter extravaganza!

Yeah, now you know where all the woos and hoos come in.

So, see, I attempted to be a good person and get this all written up before posting it so as not to irritate you with slow updates due to school. I've got five chapters written already! (Yeah, I mean mutli-chap when I say so, fool! It'll be plus six or seven chapters, at the least.) But it's not all done. The only reason I've begun posting now is because… drum roll please… today is the day, the wonderful day, that our very own pOnDeReSqUe was birthed. She is a gloriously amazing person, not to mention my beta, and I thought to myself, "Hanna, this girl deserves a birthday present." And I agreed with myself: "Yes, Hanna, she really does. But what can we give her?" We both pondered (pardon the pun) it over for second, and one of me (not sure which) exclaimed, "I've got it! What better present than the first chapter of a highly awaited MULTI CHAP (sparkle sparkle)?" I replied that there WAS no better present, especially in the realm of not actually being able to give physical presents. So keep in mind that this is unbeta-d work… I couldn't send this to her now could I? So, in conclusion… happy birthday pOnDeReSqUe, your are my one true love and quite a nertle-y chick, and I hope this is to your liking, or I might just shoot myself with a flare gun like Anthony Michael Hall.

Okay, so, just for a change, I'm doing a What in the World If? story. Yes, that's my brilliant sarcasm shining through, for all you newbies to the world of everyone's favorite baked good. It's for episode 2-13, A-Tisket, A-Tasket. The question here is… what if Dean had been a BIG boy and taken care of his little insecurities without crying to Lorelai about Rory eating lunch with Jess? I know you all wonder about it daily. It's a JavaJunkie, of course, with sprinklings of Literati, sorta like Safety Dance but moreso. So sit back, relax, and, really, just enjoy. It's a completely work-free experience, except the scrolling… we'll have to work on that. No one here wants carpel tunnel.

Did you know I'm wearing a pad on my finger right now? Yeah. There's an interesting visual for you. What can I say, we're out of band-aids and paper is just so damn eager to cut. It also makes typing quite difficult and WHAT IS THAT NOISE… there is this really obnoxious noise coming from outside my house that sounds like a combination of a dying mammoth, an agitated lion, and some one ripping an extraordinarily large piece of Velcro.

Disclaimer: Ah, I love these. It's just so FUN to come up with intriguing new ways to cleverly state why the show doesn't belong to me. It's like a whole new world, a whole new competition. You can't just write a disclaimer, you have to WRITE a disclaimer. It must be funny. It must be clever. It must get the point across. It must be Times New Roman, point 12, double spaced, and roughly a page and a half. Have it on my desk by Thursday. (Serious note: the title is from one of Grant Lee-Phillips' (yay for troubador/Judas!) songs, 'Lily-a-Passion.' He sung part of it in Raincoats and Recipes. However brilliant I am, I did not write it. And I'm not really as concieted as I come across to be, you know. And I totally just did parentheses in parentheses. I love that.)

Now really, you know you wouldn't have it any other way…
Birthday Girl: Your reviews are, like, the highlight of my LIFE. With jazz hands. Haha, eighth grade Lorelai is rather like eighth grade me… bit of slut, but in a likeable way. Your grandmother is always buying you nungas… I can just envision it. I won't describe it for you, though (trying to keep these puppies short so the don't bite my ass. The shoutouts, I mean, not the nungas.) Naw, I get it… that's what I was going for, in fact. You know me so well, sweets. That Greg sounds like a wonderful boy, and such inspiring lyrics. Is your biography "She's Got Cats" in stores yet?
Lassie: You already read this! You are SO PRIVLEDGED! But now I get your review. I love you, baby. Twin of Anne Frank? I found her book rather disturbing. Go back to Hicksville. Your review was uber short. I put the word giggled in here just for you, my honey bunches of oats.
Alexiamanda: I bet that's how those inkblots started… guy broke his ink pot on paper and thought, "Might as well pretend it means something and use it to make money." You have a very active imagination. How the world will end? Crazy people will wreak havoc on feather dusters, and it all goes downhill from there. It's technically OK; it originated from Martin van Buren's campaign slogan. It was to do with OK because his war nickname was Old Kinderhook (fact! fact!). But I like okay better too. I really love your reviews, you know that?
Izzpuppy: Don't worry, I jumped off the Balcony into a vat of Coffee. I was never really on the balcony… I was just sort of hanging off of it in the past with a cup of espresso waiting in my hand. Yeah, I heard they refuse to sell Bagel Bites in primitive boxes. I think Dora is just biding her time on Nick until she can jump into a prime spot alongside the Croc Hunter. I know crotches aren't for sniffing… try and tell Snuffy Baxter that. Someone else sent me those lyrics in a review too… oh joy!
Krys33: I definitely will die in a house fire… my friend's mom actually set my house on fire the other day. This candle got out of control, and my mother and her friend were very cool under pressure: my mother blew on it and her friend threw the first liquid on it she could find, which was perfume. The flames went as high as the bathroom ceiling, but my mom eventually stifled it with a towel. Don't you wish you lived with me? Donald Trump, that stalker.
Lorimar Jayne: I hate those Cocoa Puff cereal bars. I like the other ones… just hate those. Don't fear, I've heard toothbrush-in-hair is the newest craze. Big purses, dead animal boots, toothbrush in hair. Your teacher must find you awkward.
Baby Girl Gellar-Green: I think that will be the cliff hanger this season… Emily is a Satanical robot who eats oatmeal! Lorelai's real mother is Ms. Patty! Well, Chris may come up in this fic… but Luke is around to beat him up if he feels the need to, so it's all good. This fic, you're allowed to hate Chris again.
Ultimategilmoregirl: No worries, here comes a mutli chap… and I mean MUTLI CHAP when I say so!
Epona9009: Thank you a lot! (Yes, I can be sincere… who knew?) I dig the one shots too, but there's nothing like a multi-chap fic…
Leondra: I think we should just lock muses up and make them be slaves to our work… their vacations never lead to good things. Thanks for the love.
Menghis: Surprise, I actually am your English teacher, Mr. (cough cough). F for imagined bad grammar! Yeah, when my muse got back, I made him send his milk maid a-packing so it could go join a ridiculous Christmas song.
Waitingtuesday: Don't worry, the leprechaun is back, and it's ready to do its thang.
GilmoreHorseFreak04: Please, don't doubt me; I'm a staunch JavaJunkie, although Luke is being a total ass lately.
PuffingNoise: That was one of my favorite lines too… glad you noticed it. I love it when that happens.
Oywidapoodles: What can I say? I dig experimentation (dirty and otherwise). You don't have to.

Vinegar and Glitter

Chapter One: Oh, Right, The Cannoli

"So this is nice, huh? Come on, admit it," said Lorelai.

"Never," said Luke stubbornly.

"Just having someone who you love or have some kind of crazy crush on bid on your basket and then share a romantic lunch, it's a nice concept," explained Lorelai.

"Well, I'm sure someday you'll manage to find the right guy and drag him out to this thing and make him by your stupid basket and then you'll be sitting out here with him." Luke popped a carrot in his mouth and smiled.

Lorelai smiled back, her expression vague. "Yeah, someday."

There were a few seconds of silence. "You know what?"

"What?" said Lorelai.

"This is nice."

Lorelai rolled her eyes and smiled. "Did I not just say that? I swear, Luke, you disagree with me just to spite yourself. I bet, after you lock up at night, you sit alone in your apartment drinking tons of coffee, eating French fries, with chili, and you watch late night TV. By day- grumpy diner Luke, but by night, he's this grease-inhaling death bucket."

"You've discovered my secret," said Luke dryly. "Please, keep it to yourself. I'd be devastated if anyone found out."

"Don't worry, it's safe with me," said Lorelai gravely, chewing on a fry and raising her eyebrows solemnly.

"So, sorry about your rain gutters. If it wasn't for me being here, you could probably have flirted your way into sparkling clean gutters."

"Dirty," Lorelai giggled through a mouthful of burger. She swallowed and continued. "I do not flirt my way into getting things. If the Collins kid was here, he would've volunteered out of the goodness of his heart."

Luke snorted. "The Collins kid?"

"Well, the fact that I'm wearing The Tight Sweater probably wouldn't hurt," admitted Lorelai.

"That's more like the Collins kid. Well, if you're really desperate, I could clean your gutters for you," volunteered Luke. He continued quickly to cut off Lorelai. "Yes, extremely dirty. I know."

Lorelai smiled. "Seems like the Collins kid isn't the only one susceptible to The Tight Sweater."

Luke rolled his eyes, but he hadn't failed to notice The Tight Sweater and its amazing capabilities. "Be careful or I'm rescinding that offer."

Lorelai raised her hands in mock surrender. "Okay, I'll keep my thoughts of your utter inability to focus above my neck to myself."

Luke grunted, shuffled, and evaded. "Forget it, I don't care if your gutters are clean or not."

"Okay, okay," she said. "Moving on, Mr. Sensitive. You didn't happen to bring any whipped cream, did you?"

Luke reached under the bench and pulled out a can of whipped cream.

"Look at you, you're such a Boy Scout. Always prepared," grinned Lorelai, making a grab for the can.

"Yes, prepared to let you bloat up like a whale by shooting canfuls of that processed air straight into your mouth, which is not only disgusting but unhygienic too."

"Tell you what, when my teeth fall out and get replaced by baleen, I'll start to worry. Until then, hand it over."


"What what?" Rory turned her head.

"Do you need a Care Bear hug?"

"Not from you," said Rory sullenly.

"Tugs or Hugs, then?"

"I'm not hugging a bear with a diaper on it."

Jess sighed. "You're no fun, Grams."

"Apologies. I'm not in the greatest mood. Get back to me later and I'll pull an Eddie Izzard."

"Cake or death?"

"Are we talking about me or you?"

Jess cocked an eyebrow. "I sense hostility."

"By Jove, I think he's got it."

"Elementary, my dear Watson."

"Why am I Watson?" snapped Rory with apparent hostility.

"We're getting nowhere. Cut. End scene. Take two." Jess cleared his throat. "So, Rory, why are you in a less-than-pleasant mood?"

"Well, funny you should ask, Jess. I was planning to enjoy a nice picnic basket lunch with my boyfriend, whom I love very much, until some obnoxious weasely guy came to the event, which he didn't even take joy in participating in, and stole the basket away from my boyfriend, who had been saving up his money for this particular moment and actually did want to enjoy said lunch. Now I have to eat lunch with the obnoxious guy, who didn't even want to eat lunch from the basket, unlike my boyfriend and myself, and only bought aforementioned basket to piss off my boyfriend, who he doesn't like for unknown reasons. Perhaps he is intimidated by my boyfriend's overwhelming tallness in comparison to his under-6-foot body."

"Huh," replied Jess. "You make me sound like a jackass."

"Luke, I have something very serious to tell you. There's been a death in the family."

"I don't think that the meat falling out of your burger constitutes as a death in the family."

Lorelai pouted. "This is your fault, you know."

"How do you figure?"

"You made this burger. You prepared this burger. The meat was obviously not secured between the buns well, and I mean this in a completely non-dirty fashion, because I myself am now starting to cringe at what I just said."

"You don't exactly secure the meat to the bread. Maybe the fact that you were holding it vertically and making it fight with the brownies had something to do with its descent to the gazebo floor."

"Yeah, well, you should secure it," reprimanded Lorelai. "Tape, glue, a nail gun, staples, whatever it takes to prevent such a catastrophe as this one from ever occurring again."

"You do realize that would mean you'd then be eating staples," reminded Luke.

Lorelai sighed and shook her head. "Luke, stop arguing with me. It's a waste of precious time, time in which you could be making me a second burger."

"Oh, come on. You had less than three bites left on that thing."

"The three best bites. I had been saving them for last."

"As it is circular and made of the exact same ingredients all around, I don't think that there actually can be best bites for a burger. Just thinking out loud."

Lorelai rolled her eyes. "You're expecting me to take burger advice from a man who hasn't eaten anything that originated from a cow since his birth?"

"I drink milk frequently."

Lorelai flapped her hands, agitated. "Oy with the loopholes! Lorelai is right, Luke is wrong, and the world continues spinning on its axis. Kapish? Now we are going back to the diner and we are making me a second burger."

"Now, when yousay we, do you mean weas in we or in the sense that…"

"Up. Now."

The ever-present jingle reminded all of its presence as Lorelai rammed the door open with her back, stumbling into the diner.

"The grill isn't going to leave, you know," reminded Luke. "It's not like it'll disappear after midnight."

Lorelai laughed as she sprung behind the counter. "You did not just reference Cinderella."

"Get out from behind there!" hissed Luke, following her.

Lorelai grabbed a cup, snatched the pot, and poured coffee mid-stride very skillfully, plonking the coffee pot somewhere on the counter. "So tell me, Luke, where's the crowd? The diner is void of all people, if you haven't noticed. There were people on here, like, 30 minutes ago when I was here."

Luke replaced the pot onto its little coffee pot home and swiped the coffee that had dripped onto the counter with one push of his rag, then retreated to the grill, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel. "Yeah, it tends to empty out during the basket thing. It takes about 20 minutes or so, but they all eventually leave."

"Interesting." Lorelai hoisted herself up onto the counter, swinging her legs and sipping her coffee.

"Are you on the counter?" floated Luke's voice from around the wall.

"No," Lorelai called back, swinging her legs onto the counter and sitting cross-legged.

"Good. People eat there."

Lorelai sighed. "No they don't, Luke. They actually birth children on it while you're not looking. I've been looking for the right time to tell you."

A loud sizzle sounded from the kitchen as Luke flipped the burger. "Feet off."

"Okay," Lorelai said with an over-dramatic sigh, not moving her legs from their resting place.

"Single or double cheese?"

"Double. And grill the onions, I'm feeling crazy."

A few moments later, Luke reappeared with her burger, complete with fries, and placed it on the counter. "Off my counter."

Lorelai grabbed the plate and pulled it towards her, ignoring Luke completely. "Ooh, fries too! Thank you." She stuck a fry in her mouth and proceeded to take off her scarf and jacket while it dangled from between her lips.

Silence fell upon the diner, and Luke immediately began to wipe down the counter around Lorelai while she ate, moving Lorelai's jacket and scarf to behind the counter to grant himself maximum cleansing access. Lorelai stared at the baseball cap clad head bobbing in front of her, chewing her burger thoughtfully. "Why do you always clean this counter so much?"

Luke shrugged, continuing his never-ending quest for a germ-free counter as he spoke. "I dunno. Just something to do, I guess."

"But the damn thing is clean. Seriously. The Tanners have been calling with complaints."

"I don't know why," Luke repeated stubbornly. "I just do. It's not about getting it clean, it's just better than watching you eat."

"I almost resent that," said Lorelai. She stuffed two more fries into her mouth and continued speaking. "Maybe it's because you have deep-seated issues from when your stepfather beat you when you were a child."

"I never had a stepfather."

Lorelai swallowed. "Or maybe you're possessed by some sort of Greek demon."

"I've always imagined the demon possessing me to be Roman, funnily enough," replied Luke, moving away from her to the other end of the counter to scrub.

"Or maybe it's just a defense mechanism!" cried Lorelai. "Yes, that must be it. You are intimidated by my overwhelming beauty and charm, and you hide it by constantly cleaning."

"Not true," Luke said, reaching for the almost empty coffee pot.

Lorelai gasped. "You've moved on the coffee pot? You really do put the ism into it." Lorelai regarded the silent man for a few moments, then dropped her legs over the inside side of the counter and scooted over to him.

"I just cleaned that," he replied sourly, squirting soap into the pot.

"You wash, I dry, baby."

Luke kept his head down and assaulted the coffee pot with ferocity and a sponge. "Why are you over here?" he said, apparently irritated at having his personal space intruded upon.

"Why are you so opposed to having me over here?"

"Why do you feel the need to irritate me so?"

"Why do you find me so irritating?"

"Because you're all in my face while I'm trying to clean."

"Ehh!" said Lorelai, emitting a terrible impression of a buzzer. "And Drew Carrey sounds the buzzer, in with Colin Mockery."

Luke was clearly agitated by her presence still, scooting the saltshaker out of the way with a quick hand. Lorelai's eyes stared down at him, narrowing slightly as she watched his clenched jaw muscles undulate nervously. And she internally argued that the monotonous movements of his arms were hypnotic; she was in a trance and her actions were completely uncontrollable; and that was the excuse she subconsciously used as she placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in and launched her mouth onto his.

It was completely out of character and something she had been fighting against for at least four years, but the slate of her mind that dealt with reason was wiped out as she felt his warm, wet lips under hers. She couldn't even bring herself to feel if he was kissing her back or not; her only sense was the way his lips felt sliding over hers and the heat and the repeated train of thought scrambling through her head: "Oh my God oh my God oh my God oh my GOD oh my God…"

And her hormone-induced haze slowly came into focus, shifting back and forth like a stubborn camera lens until what exactly she was doing clicked into place and she scrambled backwards on the counter, knocking a pepper shaker to the ground and shattering it. "Shit."

Luke's mouth was hanging open slightly, his eyelashes low over his eyelids. The only noise he could make was a low incoherent grunt.

Lorelai pulled her tingling lip into her mouth and vaulted off the counter, grabbing her scarf and jacket and mumbling a stream of nonsense under her breath as she went: "I have to be somewhere a place a um a one with walls and dancing leprechauns and some who don't dance and you know lots of cannoli and I can't miss it because sixty percent of Rory's French grade depends on it and I um sorry about the pepper" and before either could take a breath she was out the door, and he could see her sprinting wildly down the street, and he just lowered his head onto the counter and thumped it against it a fair few times.

I felt bored, so I did this. I need to find better ways to be occupied.

Deep-seated? Deep-seeded? Deep-seated? The eternal question.

Next chapter should be up in a few days… remember to just read the story that I take hours out of my life to write personally for you and not review at ALL. Reviewing is the spawn of SATAN! Reviews are every hard-working writer's worst enemy! Whatever you do, don't take a mere two seconds to shoot me a 'good job' or 'burn in hell, fool,' especially if they were the two seconds you'd probably spend dead or asleep. Those are damn important seconds, and I don't deserve them. Remember that.

Ohoho, I am so entertaining. Like a chimp. Isn't she like a chimp, Gypsy?

Plus the chapters get longer from here on in! And better: a portion of this fic was forced out in my constipated, muse-in-Amsterdam stage.

Next up: Rory coaxes a confession of what happened at the picnic out of Lorelai; Lorelai, however, fails to do so with Rory. Sookie bursts eardrums when she hears the news. Jess and Rory talk, and we find out what exactly they later did during that picnic… made jewelry? Shared baking tips, perhaps? Worked on a tap dance routine?