Title: Ricky Drops the Bomb
Characters/Pairings: Ricky/Lucy, Fred/Ethel, Ralph/Betty, Carolyn Appleby, Little Ricky, Bruce Ramsey
Rating: PG / K+
Summary: They've all seen Ricky angry, and they've all seen him yell... but they were not prepared when he, for reasons that cannot be explained, decided to drop an F-bomb...
Warnings: A single f-bomb is dropped, general silliness and crazy antics
Timeset: Season 6-7
Disclaimer: I do not own 'I Love Lucy' in any way shape or form, and do not make any money off writing this; it was just for fun and to pass free time.
A/N: ...I'm sorry... Whenever I've had a 'what if?' scenario cross my mind for fandom that hasn't been explored, I will often embark on exploring it for myself... and in this case, the 'what if?' scenario was 'what would happen if the f-bomb had been dropped on ILL?', which is, well... stupid, lol...
So, yep... Ricky drops an f-bomb here, though for some reason, that is mildly less disturbing than the idea of say, Charles Ingalls dropping one, though if Jessica Fletcher did, I'd probably laugh my booty off. :P
Well, read on, if you're not too disturbed by the idea of Ricky dropping the bomb.
Ricky Drops the Bomb
Lucy didn't know.
She didn't know where it had come from, or even how it had gotten started.
Well, she knew how it had started, but still... where had it come from?
She knew she needed to talk to Ethel immediately, but Ethel was in town with Betty Ramsey. The entire concept of her two best-friends spending time without her no longer was an issue, especially now.
No, it wasn't an issue.
The real issue was much worse, Lucy knew. The sheer notion of what her husband had said to her was... horrible. Frightening, even. It hadn't been couth in the least, for one, but to make matters worse, Ricky had said what he had chosen to say when there was a lady present...
Lucy needed to talk to someone now, and while calling up any of her girlfriends to spill the beans to them was more than likely a bad idea, Lucy had never been the best at controlling some of her impulses, especially if the impulse was to talk.
She sat down at the kitchen table, and rung up one her old friends.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
"Carolyn dear, it's Lucy."
"Oh hi, dear," said Carolyn, a large smile surfacing on her face. Oh, good. It had been so long since Lucy had fed her a juicy piece of gossip, hadn't it? "How are you?" she asked.
Lucy sighed. "Carolyn, something happened today..."
Carolyn switched the phone to her other ear, as she perked up. She knew it, somehow, she had known. Lucy was going to feed her something she could gossip about with to Marion and the others, and with luck, it would be juicer than an apple.
"Anything wrong?" she asked, her voice insistent, "You can tell me, dear."
Lucy's shoulders dropped a little. "It's Ricky. He said something to me today after he lost his temper, and it was so awful I still can't believe he said it, and to me, no less. When a lady was present."
"Go on..." said Carolyn in a leading tone. What Ricky had said had to have been something odd, for Lucy to call her friend about it, that is. Ricky had yelled at Lucy many times, so he must've insulted her with a nasty personal attack. Little did Carolyn know...
"I don't know how to put this..." Lucy said, her words trailing, "But Ricky... he... he..."
"What? What is it?"
"He... he dropped the f-bomb..."
Carolyn thought she just might die from the shock of her friend's horrid revelation.
"Ricky said the f... the f..." murmured Carolyn. She couldn't even bring herself to say 'f-word' out loud; not even that was acceptable, especially for a lady.
"Yes," sighed Lucy, "he said the word that starts with an f, and it has four letters in it."
"Oh my goodness, dear, that is horrible. Just horrible," replied Carolyn, shaking her head as she articulated a few 'tsks'. It was horrible for Ricky to say that word, she knew, but on the brighter side, she could tell everyone she knew about it.
"I don't know what to do," Lucy continued, propping an elbow on the table. "Ricky and I haven't spoken since he said... it. After he said it, I couldn't even bring myself to move for a moment. The silence seemed to last for an eternity, and the monotony wasn't broken until Ricky stormed out the front door... Goodness, I just don't know what to do..."
"Well, how did this even get started?" inquired Carolyn, "The argument leading up to... it? You've done all sorts of silly and crazy things, and he never said that word to you before?"
Lucy placed her chin in the palm of her hand, and huffed, "I know." She sighed again. "As for the argument that got him started, it was about furniture of all things..."
"Well, Rick, don't you... think that was a little foolish of you?"
Pacing back and forth, Ricky said, "I know it was! Ah!" He temporarily threw his arms up in the air, and continued to pace within the guesthouse. "I didn't mean to say that word, it just came out of my mouth, and for some reason, I couldn't stop myself!"
"Calm down," insisted Fred, who was seated on the sofa. "What bad word did you say, anyways?"
Ricky halted his pacing. "It... it was..."
"Don't tell me you said the b to Lucy, Ricky."
"...Not the a."
Ricky thought he was going to die. "No, Fred..."
Fred arched a brow. "Well we're runnin' out of options here. Unless... wait a minute, wait-a-minute. Ricky, you sly, sly son of a gun."
"Okay!" Ricky yelled again. "I admit it! I said the f-word!"
Fred sat back, and whistled for a few seconds. "Wow. I'm sorry, Ricky. I said that word to the old battleaxe once, and she went to stay with her mother until I agreed to rinse my mouth out with a bar of soap in front of her."
"So..." began Ricky, "You missed her enough to apologize and everything worked out okay?"
Fred shook his head a little. "I didn't miss her, I was getting tired of eating at the Y, and everything didn't work out okay. After all, I'm still married."
"Ugh!" Ricky groaned, beginning to pace again. "But Lucy, well, how can she do the crazy, ridiculous things she does and expect me to be gay all the time?"
Fred shrugged. "No one can be happy all the time, Ricky. Everyone gets upset, but you have to control what you say when you're upset. Just tell yourself that under no circumstances will you ever drop the f-bomb, especially when a lady is present."
Ricky halted his footsteps once more, and sighed. "I know that. I remember the time Marco the piano player said that word to himself when he didn't know Nancy the harpist was around..."
"Yeah? How'd that work out?"
"He took a vacation."
"For how long?"
"I don't know, he never came back."
Like before, Fred whistled a little. "Man, Rick. You better hope Lucy's not calling up one of the chatterboxes right now to tell them about what you said, and if she tells Ethel, everyone will know you dropped an f-bomb before it even gets dark."
"Ay yi yi yi yi..." sighed Ricky. "What should I do?"
"Well, you could always rinse your mouth out with a big bar of soap like I did."
Ricky frowned. "I'd rather not, thank you."
Fred shrugged, and said, "Well, you could always apologize in the romantic sense. Go back to her, take her hand, get on your knees, and say... 'Lucy, my love, I promise you I will never, ever drop the f-bomb ever again'."
Ricky stood, contemplating. "Hmm, you're right, Fred."
"Go apologize, of course," replied Fred.
"I will... in a few minutes. Or a few days... months..."
Fred rolled his eyes. "Ricky, I'm not going to tell you that what you did was okay, because it wasn't. All men have a sacred code to keep when there are ladies and battleaxes present, and part of that code is to never drop the bomb," he affirmed, keeping eye-contact with his pal. "Now, go apologize, unless you want to lose your wife forever."
Ricky swallowed, and stood tall, turning around. "I'm going to do it. I am going to apologize for having said that word to her right now, at this very second."
A second went by.
A few seconds went by.
Sixty seconds went by.
Three minutes went by.
"That sure is some apology you gave her just now," said Fred.
Lucy had just gotten off the phone with Carolyn, who had promised she would never tell a single soul about what Lucy's husband had allowed himself to say in front of his wife.
Lucy sighed, dragging her feet on the floor as she walked, slouching.
"Oh, woe is me... Oh, my little Cuban Cupid angel came down from the heavens only to shoot a beautiful young woman with an arrow of love, but little did that woman know that the arrow had the word which bore four letters and started with an 'f' attached to it, hanging by a tag on its string..." she whispered longingly, "It was then she knew what she had failed to see before... Her Cuban Cupid wasn't the perfect angel she had anticipated... his wings, all but melting..."
Lucy sighed with despair, dragging her feet with every step of the way. Her shoulders were dropped, and her arms were hanging so low she looked as if she might touch her toes fairly soon.
Even when Ethel opened the front door holding a hatbox, Lucy continued to sink lower.
"Sorry I'm back so late but what with the great deal Betty was able to get me I couldn't help but..." Ethel stopped in place, her smile fading as she took her best-friend into view. "Lucy...?"
Almost touching her toes at this point, Lucy stood up just a little, and looked up.
"Lucy? What are you doing?"
"I realized how wonderful it was to look down, because if you never look up, you can never see anyone when they look down on you..."
Ethel's brow furrowed. "Lucy, what's wrong?"
Lucy finally stood straight again, and began to walk towards her friend. "Oh, Ethel. It's Ricky. My one, true love has shot at me, and he shot to kill."
"What! Are you saying Ricky finally got so angry at you that he couldn't take it anymore and pulled out a gun?"
"No," sighed Lucy, "but I wish he had. No, Ethel my friend, Ricky alas chose to slay me with but a single word..."
Ethel walked over to the couch, and set her hatbox down on the cushions, before redirecting her attention back to the longing Lucy.
She cracked a suspicious look. "...What exactly did he say to you, Lucy? What word?"
"Oh Ethel," said Lucy, appearing as if she were about to faint. "Ricky... he said..."
"He said... he said..."
Ethel gripped Lucy's shoulders. "What did he say to you?"
"He said..." whispered Lucy, "The f... the word to which has four letters and begins with an 'f'..."
Ethel's mouth fell wide open, as she gasped loudly. "No... he didn't?"
"Oh... ugh," Ethel groaned, spinning around. "I always knew Ricky would say it one day. Men. They're all the same. Humph."
"Well what do you suggest I do?" asked Lucy, waiting for Ethel to turn back around.
Ethel did turn back around, standing as tall as she possibly could, as she put forth a bold, dignified stance.
"You are going to leave him, Lucy."
"...What?" questioned Lucy. "But... but I don't want to leave him!"
"He said that which has four letters and begins with an f in front of a lady, dear. You have no choice. Your marriage is over."
Tears filled Lucy's eyes, as she wept, "But I still love him, Ethel."
Ethel walked to Lucy, and patted her on the back. "There, there. You'll get over it eventually. You'll go on to meet someone new, someone with a clean mouth."
"But I don't want someone with a clean mouth," cried Lucy, "I want Ricky and his dirty mouth."
"Lucy," sighed Ethel, patting her friend on the back once more, "There is but one other thing you can do."
Lucy sniffed, and stopped crying. "What?"
"Make him wash his mouth out with a bar of soap in front of you like a certain fat old coot did in front of me," insisted Ethel, continuing to stand tall. "A man cannot allow himself to say such things to a lady. You're a lady, aren't you, Lucy?"
"And Ricky shouldn't have dropped the f-bomb on you no matter HOW angry he was."
"And you're NOT going to allow him to get away with it because you are BETTER than that."
"What's wrong, Ricky?"
"I'm not sure, Bruce. My mommy's mad because Daddy said a word."
"So?" asked Bruce, sitting next to Little Ricky on the Ramsey's front porch. "My dad says words all the time."
Little Ricky turned his head to look at his friend. "Well I know we all say words, but Daddy said a BAD word."
"What's a bad word?" inquired Bruce while he lightly tossed a baseball in his hand.
"You know what a bad word is, Bruce," replied Little Ricky, "It's a word you should never say to anyone, like a four letter word."
Bruce was relatively confused. "I've heard that before, but four letter words aren't bad."
"I know that, only the one with an 'f' is really bad," replied the other boy, "My mommy told me that as I get older, I'm going to hear certain words I should never use. She called them 'four letter words', and when I asked her what they were so I would know not to say them, she just said I'd know. Today, though, Daddy said a four letter word that started with an 'f', and it's the worst four letter word of all."
Bruce pondered. "Well what word do you think it is?"
"I don't know," sighed Little Ricky, chin in hand.
"Well I have an idea," said Bruce, before he stood up. "Let's make a list and write down all the words we know that have four letters in them and begin with an 'f', and afterwards, we'll decide which one is the worst!"
The front door opened.
Ricky walked inside of his Connecticut country house, while Fred followed behind him.
Lucy and Ethel were still talking, but the second Ricky entered, they both silenced themselves abruptly.
Lucy smirked. "Humph."
"Lucy..." said Ricky, a lump in his throat. "I... I have something to say to you."
Lucy looked to Ethel, and Ethel nodded. Then, Lucy stated, "Well I have nothing to say to you, for you, Ricky Ricardo, chose to say the word to which has four letters and begins with an 'f'."
"Yeah," added Ethel.
"You keep out of this, Ethel," sighed a discontented Fred.
"Looks who's talking," replied Ethel, her arms folded. "For I have heard you say that word for yourself, you fat old goat."
Fred sighed, and then to Ricky, whispered, "Well I always told her not to have a cow, but then she turned into one."
"Hey," hissed Ethel.
Lucy smirked again. "The point, Ricky Ricardo, is that you have allowed yourself to say a word... You dropped an f-bomb, onto our marriage... BANG, it went! BANG!"
Ricky jumped a little every time Lucy said the word 'bang'.
With her right-hand, Lucy imitated a plane that was flying high before it began to sink and crash down.
"BANG!" she repeated, while Ricky continued to stand with his eyes widened from a mixture of shock and unadulterated terror.
Ricky took a courageous step forwards. "What can I do to make this up to you?"
Lucy looked to Ethel again, before again, Ethel nodded.
The redhead looked back ahead at her husband, and said, "You must wash your mouth out with a big, fat bar of soap, and then, you must write a speech on why you can never say that word again... before you read it to all of us."
Ricky looked at Fred, before Fred said, "Don't look at me, pal, but know your taste will return again in a few days."
Ricky stared at Lucy, and wallowed in shameful humiliation. "I'll do it, if that's what it takes for you to forgive me for what I did..."
"Good," said Lucy in a prideful fashion, standing tall as ever as she began to head for the door, Ethel following close behind. She made her way to Ricky and Fred, and as she walked her way between them, said, "Pardon me, there is a lady coming though."
Ethel then did the same, also saying, "Pardon me."
When Lucy and Ethel had reached the front door, Lucy placed her hand upon the knob, and turned to face the defeated man one, last time.
"I'll stay in the guesthouse with Ethel until you finish writing your speech, and then, I shall return to where you shall read it to everyone, before you, Ricky Ricardo, wash your mouth out with a big, fat bar of soap."
Ricky swallowed again, while Lucy gestured to Ethel, and the two women headed out the front door; the door abruptly slamming behind them.
"Well, that went well," said Fred.
"Okay... fall, fowl, fine, funs, fids, fake, fill, furs, frat, fits, fame, fare, fair, fats, fads, food, feed, fays..."
"Okay, so which of these words is the worst?"
Bruce lightly tapped the end of his pencil against the paper. "Hmm, well, fowl means a chicken but if you add an 'e' it means something that's bad, fats can be bad food, fits aren't good to have, but my mommy says there's nothing worse than a woman who's 'fake'."
Little Ricky looked down at the paper, where Bruce had underlined several 'f' words. "So do you think my daddy called my mommy 'fake'? I don't get it. She said this word was NEVER okay to use, and people can say fake whenever they want without getting in trouble from what I know."
"Well maybe it's fowl?"
Little Ricky shrugged. "But that's a chicken."
"But it's called 'fowl' language, Ricky. Maybe it's like hen-talk."
"So you think my daddy said something to Mommy in bird-language?" asked Little Ricky, appearing quite confused.
"Maybe he heard something from one of your chickens," replied Bruce, "He never said the bad word until he got them."
"Hmm, maybe," remarked Little Ricky. "I guess I can just tell my daddy not to be a chicken."
"I'll help you."
"No problem, Ricardo."
"Here, Ricky, take a load off."
"No thanks, Fred..."
Fred shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, twisting the cap off the beer.
Ricky continued to stare downwards at the paper, to which the only words written upon it were 'Dearest Lucy'...
"Fred, help me out here... how can I start this off?"
"I don't know, just whatever you say, make sure it's dramatic," insisted Fred, taking a seat at the kitchen table to Ricky's right. "You know how much women love that. Just write anything that comes to mind, so long it sounds sappy and convincing."
"Hm," uttered Ricky, before he began to write. "How about... 'Dearest Lucy... I am so truly, and deeply sorry that I allowed myself to speak a most unthinkable word to you. In fact, I'm truly, and deeply sorry that I allowed myself to speak a most unthinkable word at all'," he said while writing out his suggestions.
"Good, good," pronounced Fred, "Then, how's about... 'I never meant to say it at all, for my love for you runs so deep, it overlaps any and all desires within myself to ever say such a terrible thing to you'."
"Yeah," remarked Ricky, as he scribbled the words down. "Then, how about some of those... what are they called? Anagies?"
"Anagies...?" muttered Fred.
Ricky nodded. "Yeah, anagies. You know, 'your love is like the son' and things like that."
"Oooh, analogies," Fred said as he corrected Ricky. "Yeah, throw a few of those in there."
"Okay," replied Ricky, as he continued to write. "I'll say... 'Lucy, your love is like a field of sugarcane, and I can't seem to find my way out of it. You are the sun and I am the moon, and without your light to shine upon me, I am dark, dull, and invisible'."
Fred toasted his beer to Ricky, before taking a sip. "That's pretty good. Women love that stuff, and the less sense it makes, the better."
"Of course. Just add a few more of those lines and you'll be all set to go. Just make sure you focus on Lucy in the letter, and you'll barely have to mention the f-bomb at all."
"Right you are, Fred."
It was near 7:00 PM now, and once again, Ricky was pacing about, only this time, in the den of his country house, and not in the guesthouse. However, Fred was once again seated on the couch. Ricky was a nervous wreck as usual, but also as usual, Fred was more than ready for some real excitement. After all, without Lucy and Ricky's endless crazed escapades, his life wouldn't be half as exciting as it was.
No sooner later, the front door opened, as Lucy entered; followed by Ethel, Betty Ramsey, and Betty's husband, Ralph Ramsey.
"Ay-yi-yi-yi-yi..." Ricky sighed to himself. Why did Lucy have to invite the Ramsey's for this?
Betty took one good look at Ricky, and said 'humph', before she joined Lucy and Ethel on what they had decided would be the 'ladies' couch' for the evening.
Sporting a cigar in his mouth, Ralph took a drag, and walked over to Ricky, where he pat him on the shoulder a single time, and then, went to have a seat next to Fred.
"Where's Little Ricky and Bruce?" inquired Ricky, just wanting to say anything to postpone his speech, even if the question he'd asked had been on his mind.
Ralph chuckled. "They're at my house still, working on some sort of spelling assignment of all things. Come to think, those boys have been at it all afternoon. Doesn't surprise me, though. Bruce gets his willingness to learn from my side of the family, after all."
"Well that must be the only thing he gets from you..." whispered Betty, which caused Lucy and Ethel to laugh ever so slightly.
"Now Ricky," began Lucy, "It is time for your speech..."
"Wait a second," said Fred, who made way to rise, "I think this calls for a drink. Ralph, you want?"
Ralph smiled big. "Y-e-e-e-s, boy do I ever. I wouldn't miss this for the world."
"Be right back, then," replied Fred, scampering off. He turned briefly on his way to the kitchen, and added, "Okay, Ricky, make sure you don't start until I get back."
Ricky's shoulders slumped, the speech he'd written in one hand nearly falling to the floor. He just wanted to get this over with and never think of it again... And now that Ralph was here, everyone at the lodge was sure to hear about Ricky's humiliation...
Soon, Fred returned with a couple of 'JD nightcaps'; one for Ralph, and one for himself, before Fred retook his seat on the couch next to Ralph as the two men propped their feet atop the coffee table while Ralph had another go at his cigar.
"Well, Ricky?" Ralph smiled.
As a fact, Ralph and Fred were both smiling ear-to-ear, while the girls still appeared very serious. Betty had her arms folded, Ethel was still sporting that bold and dignified look, and Lucy had her hands placed neatly in her lap and her chin raised.
Ricky swallowed, held up his speech, and began to read...
"Dearest Lucy... I am so truly, and deeply sorry that I allowed myself to speak a most unthinkable word to you. In fact, I'm truly, and deeply sorry that I allowed myself to speak a most unthinkable word at all. I never meant to say it at all, for my love for you runs so deep, it overlaps any and all desires within myself to ever say such a terrible thing to you. Lucy, your love is like a field of sugarcane, and I can't seem to find my way out of it. You are the sun and I am the moon, and without your light to shine upon me, I am dark, dull, and invisible."
Lucy swooned, while Betty and Ethel seemed to approve.
Fred and Ralph were trying desperately not to laugh, and even failing to a degree.
Ricky sighed, and continued. "Lucy, my dearest Lucy... your beauty is perfection and a vision to behold, and I nearly faint every time I take your form into view..." he muttered.
Ralph covered his mouth with one hand, nearly dropping his cigar, while Fred had to turn and bury his face in the couch's cushioning to keep from chortling too loudly.
With her hands clasped tightly together, Lucy looked at Ricky longingly and said, "Go on, honey..."
Ricky huffed, and looked back down at the paper. "Lucy, I am your... slave. I would do anything for you, and if I could, I would swim the seven seas just to prove how deep my loves runs for you."
"Or how deep his love runs from her," Ralph whispered into Fred's ear, before Fred emitted a few guffaws.
Ricky was becoming very agitated. "Lucy, my sweet, I will never say the word I said to you ever, ever, ever again, because just as I know it, you know it, and 'it' is that we love one another, and that our love conquers all, especially the horrible and disgusting word I chose to say. So please, my dear, sweet, perfect, beautiful angel, forgive me?"
Lucy was more than ready to stand up and embrace Ricky in her arms.
The front door opened, and Little Ricky and Bruce Ramsey rushed in.
Impersonating a couple of hens, they began to flap their arms...
"BUCK BUCK BUCK," Bruce and Little Ricky said together, "Don't be a chicken!"
"Buck buck buck, don't be a chicken, Daddy!" yelled Ricky Jr., "Buck buck BUCK!"
"Chicken chicken!" Bruce added, "You're a chicken, Mr. Ricardo! Too chicken for a bad word! Buck buck BUCK!"
Ricky's mouth had fallen open, and he had long since dropped his speech to the floor. No one seemed to know quite what to say...
Well, except Ricky...
"Chicken...?" stammered Ricky, "I'm not chicken!"
"Maybe you are a chicken, Ricky," laughed Ralph, while Fred laughed right along with him.
'Dun dun dun'...
Lucy, Ethel, and Betty all fainted.
Fred whistled the tune of doom, while Ralph had another drink from his crystal glass before he lit another cigar. Ralph then looked to Fred, and said, "Hey, you wanna head on into town for a real nightcap? I don't think I want to be around when Betty wakes up."
Fred was already up and off the couch, gathering his coat. He didn't want to be around when Ethel came to, either.
Ricky swallowed. "I-I-I think I'll join you..."
Ralph shook his head. "No, Ricky. You need to stay here and explain a few things to the boys, if you know what I mean... And don't worry about Lucy and the others. When they come to, just tell them they had too much champagne and imagined the whole thing."
Ricky blinked. "...We don't have any champagne."
Ralph nodded. "Then you better hurry and get some."
Feeling like he might die all over again, Ricky approached his son and little Bruce, and said, "You two want to run into town with me real quick?
"What does fux mean?" asked Little Ricky.
"How does alcohol get people drunk?" asked Bruce.
"Isn't speeding in a moving vehicle bad?" asked Little Ricky.
"What other four letter words are bad?" asked Bruce.
"Are you and Mommy not going to get a divorce now that you're not a chicken?" asked Little Ricky.
Ralph and Fred eyed the boys, and decided they were going to bail while they still could.
So, they did just that.
Ricky tried his best to clean up the mess he had made, but surely enough, within twenty-four hours; everyone knew he had dropped the f-bomb...
And eating that big fat bar of soap surely was one of the most unpleasant experiences of his life.
Strangely enough, however, once Ricky had explained how the argument had begun with more clarity, the guys seemed to understand his point much better.
After all, the furniture argument that had started it all had only initiated when Lucy said she couldn't stand the thought of sleeping in the same bed with Ricky any longer. Ricky had taken it the wrong way; that's all.
Lucy had just wanted a new bed.
So at the men's get-together later in the week, to Fred and Ralph, Ricky said, "Women can't control their emotions."
And at the women's get-together later in the week, to Betty and Ethel, Lucy said, "Don't put all your eggs in one basket."
And of course, Lucy got her new bed.
And like before, Ricky promised never to drop the f-bomb ever again...
A/N: ...Sorry, lol...
No flames, please...?