(Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls. I own nothing. These aren't even my pants.) I've been an avid and loyal Gilmore Girls fan for three years, and am a severe Lukist (as opposed to Christophrite). (Who could NOT love Luke Danes?) I wanted to give Luke a past, much like I did for Dimitri in "Journey To A Different Past." (Also, I took the liberty of assuming his dad's name was William, since no one ever said it on the show, the store is William's Hardware, and their last name is Danes, so that can't be it.) Notice the similarities between Luke and his dad, and we'll find out why he wears his hat backwards...:-) Please R & R. Enjoy.
"Dad? Dad? Where's that order receipt?"
Lucas Danes slapped the baseball cap back onto his head and climbed out of the heap of boxes in the storeroom. Bolts and hammers and God knows what else were strewn all over the floor, and he had to be careful not to lose his footing.
Finally, William poked his head through the doorframe. "What?" His attention then went to the phone that was wedged between his shoulder and ear. "No, no, Mr. Porter, I've only got two of the nine-grade down, two of the Craftsman, five calk. No? Look, if your numbers don't match my numbers, then take a math course, 'cause one of us has a problem here and it sure as hell ain't me. Yeah, I'll hold."
"Where'd you put that order receipt for Mr. Callahan?" he asked, digging through a drawer. The bill of his hat kept hitting the ledge every time he went in for a closer look.
"Oh, don't tell me it didn't come in," William sighed.
"It didn't come in."
"Great. Top drawer, to the left. Oh, and---Luke."
Luke approached his father, and in one quick motion, William turned his hat in the opposite direction. "Easier that way," he explained.
At that moment, a series of loud, hollow bell sounds could be heard from the square outside. William nearly dropped the phone. "Agh, damn bells---Luke! You're late for school!"
Luke cringed at the mere mention of that place. He kept writing. "I don't need to go to school. I can help here with the orders."
William, however, was having none of it. "You're eleven, Luke. You're going to school." He grabbed his son's shoulder and steered him toward the office. "Now go upstairs, get your books, and don't come back without an education!"
"Yes sir," Luke grumbled, and trudged up the steps. He would go, all right, but he no one ever said he had to like it.