Summary: when Amelie's birthday rolls around, Myrnin, who is sick of her melancholy thoughts about the past, decides to bring in a Londoner to show her that she isn't missing a thing.
I don't own anything
*I have never spoken the majority of this British slang; it's cockney. But certain parts is not cockney, so I'll just bold all the cockney… but I don't say some of the normal British/English (WHICH ONE IS IT HERE?) slang either…*
Thank you, thank you, to Hannah (Hanziii) for her assistance with the learning of cockney! Read her stuff or I will come and… RAMBLE IN YOUR FACE FOR HOURS ABOUT MY TOOTH LOSS BECAUSE I HAD TO HAVE IT OUT TO GET BRACES… OKAY? Good, glad we're clear.
Myrnin decides that he needs to do a little googling – an extraordinary invention. Amelie has been driving him crazy (crazier than normal) recently, moaning about how she wants to go back to London, because it is so amazing and divine, yet more refined than places like Prague and Madrid.
But Myrnin knows that London isn't this magical place of perfection anymore (it never has been; Amelie was just high half the time) and so he needs to find someone to pop by to Morganville to show off just how 'chavvy' it is there so that Amelie will stop contemplating getting rid of Morganville and his importance. After all, somewhere else, he won't be needed to run the machine… he'll have no money and he will be forced to… to work. Now, that would be a travesty.
So he types 'Londoners willing to show the world how they speak' into Google and wonders whether or not he will get any results.
He sifts through a variety of porn sites that he seems to have a partiality to before finally hitting a rather promising site. The opening page says:
Ey-up mandems, ow'z u? Piff tings 'ere & imma give u a lesson in how ta speak cockney, allie? Batman, right?
The English translation is below:
Eya guys, how are you? Hot girl is here and I'm going to give you a lesson in how to speak cockney, innit? Cool, right?
Myrnin grins as he scrolls down the page, ignoring so many more words that he doesn't understand, and finds Hannah's phone number (she is the name at the top of the site) to give her a call, to see if she would mind coming to Morganville…
"Happy fourteen hundredth and seventy third birthday, Amelie!" Myrnin enthuses as he rolls through the portal on some roller skates that Claire left lying around. He throws a huge (and very light) basket at Amelie, who catches it in stunned confusion. Then she focuses on Myrnin and hisses.
"I thought we had agreed," she says in a not very pleasant manner to be speaking on your birthday, "that we would not be speaking of my birthday; it holds no importance or relevance to me. Since you were unwilling to create a portal to London for one day, I am afraid that mentions of birthdays within our entire group shall be withheld in future."
Myrnin pouts because, though he has forgotten his birthday, he likes to treat every day as his birthday, just incase that day is it. "B-but Amelie, I got you a present, you have to open it!" he wails, so Amelie, just to shut him up, opens the basket.
Which is empty.
"Myrnin, I don't see the purpose of an empty basket," she grimaces, knowing that she is probably going to be asked to perform a magic trick that will turn her pink or something.
Myrnin frowns and feels in all his pockets, just to find that he forgot to put the present in. so, with an abashed smile, he slips the small and nondescript envelope on her desk, sparking her interest more than she would admit.
Carefully so that she doesn't destroy her royal blue painted nails, she opens the envelope and sees a letter inside:
Dear Myrnin (yes, I can speak properly, you know)
I'll be there for the day that you specified and be in the room you ordered me to be in for 11am. Be there or be square.
Amelie frowns, wondering what could be so unique a present that it has to be brought in by someone quite obviously not from Morganville. "Myrnin, what is this?" she questions, just as he moves around and grabs her wrist with his usual Myrnin manic excitement.
"Come on or we'll be late!" he rolls his eyes as he uses his burst of adrenaline from the excitement to overcome her digging in of her feet into the ground.
Realising that it is a lost cause, she decides that it is time to go with Myrnin, if only so that he doesn't start destroying her priceless furniture, like he did last time that she refused to do what he wanted. Stupid, petulant child, she thinks to herself as she is dragged through the portal to reappear in one of the unused rooms in City Hall.
"We must wait for Miss Hannah, Amelie, for otherwise your present is incomplete," Myrnin says mysteriously.
"Myrnin, you are yet to inform me what this so called present you have gotten me is, so the absence of some human does not really aid me in knowing what you are going to be forcing me to do!" she snaps at him, with each word her voice getting cooler and cooler.
"Whoa, am I in the right room here guys?" a young sounding female voice issues from the door, sounding… posh? Myrnin shakes his head in disbelief and blinks a few times: it is definitely the girl from the website, but why does she sound posh?
"That is all dependant on who you are," Amelie answers in a voice that could cause water to freeze with the first syllable.
"I'm Hannah – and you're Myrnin?" she confirms as she recognises the man in front of her from the photo he sent her. Little does he know it is up on her wall.
"Yes, I am, though I am positive that you spoke differently before," he is suspicious of her and she nods, grinning slightly.
"I talk like this normally – my friend from Yorkshire thinks I'm posh but I'm not, I'm just normal – but I can put on a different accent, as you desire," she says, hoisting the full bag on her shoulder further up so that it doesn't fall off.
"Why are you here?" Amelie asks, no longer concerned about being polite (was she being polite?) and simply wants to know what ridiculous idea Myrnin has had to have flown this girl… from England?
"I'm here to educate you about London," she says, causing Amelie to sit up with a smile. "By the way, are you a mother?" Hannah continues, confusing Amelie.
"No," she answers, wondering if the outfit she is wearing makes her look fat or something. But this only douses Hannah's expression and she shrugs.
"Doesn't matter then… just something I would have said my friend would say if you were… but moving on," she just manages to avoid the whole 'MILF' issue that there is going on in the world right now.
Amelie narrows her eyes but nods slowly, wondering the point of the question was. But she sits patiently as she waits for the girl to set up her boards and turn around one again. "Ey-up, me mandems, ow r ya doin?" she asks the suddenly stunned Amelie, reverting into her cockney accent as she grins.
"Dear Lord, where are you from? Hull?" Amelie asks, remembering some of the horrific speakers from that place… oh wait, no, it couldn't be, since the only thing they do is miss the h's off their words… like Hull becomes 'Ull. (A/N: I'm from near Hull but I don't do this, yet my Dad does)
"No, London," Hannah answers as if Amelie is stupid, rolling her eyes as she removes the sheet from the top of the first photo. "Now, this is a propa' peng gal," she says, invoking her speech once again, both the adult vampires stunned as to what she means.
"But… she looks like those Barbie dolls children nowadays play with," Amelie says… "Wait, what on earth does that mean? Could you please talk in English?"
Hannah rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "No, that man says that you have to hear the language of London nowadays, as well as see the pictures I took around London… something like-" she cuts off as Myrnin flashes her a death look, since she shouldn't tell Amelie the point of this is to stop her wanting to go back there. "Proper peng gal means bare… no… very hot girl… not that I think so but that's the terminology used today," she clarifies the meaning, yet the vampires are still confused.
"So, this picture is one of the typical streets around," Hannah says, not confessing that the image of druggies and hoodies is stereotypical of youths and it only happens in small areas of London. "These people are like kmt blad, coz you're bare insultin ma beeftings n dat ain't on, allie?" Amelie can understand one word in this: insulting.
"In English?" Amelie asks, her patience stretching to the limit. But, on the inside, the desire to return to London is already depleting.
"Um… kiss my teeth – I'm annoyed at you – dude, because you're insulting… ok, this is a little minging," she blushes before deciding to motion towards Myrnin's package to describe what she is talking about. "And that isn't right, you know what I mean?" she continues once she is sure they all know what beeftings means.
Amelie shakes her head at the vulgarity of the humans today in London, wondering if it is all like this and whether, just perhaps, other forms of communication could be safe.
"This is an example of a text message I sent to someone because she was basically being a slut and adding people on different sites and then basically flashing them… I'm amazed she isn't up the duff already," Hannah mutters, thinking how much she hates this person but not wanting to name them just incase Myrnin sent her a letter.
'up the duff' confuses the adults but they don't ponder on it as they get distracted trying to decode the message:
Babezz, dpmo coz, tbh, I cba atm.
"How many words have you just abbreviated there?" Amelie queries as she tilts her head to try and work out what it could mean…
"…Um… there are sixteen words there in total," Hannah answers, a small smile on her face. Amelie, however, shakes her head and barely holds in the tears. "Um… I'm going to go and find the next slide," she says, seeing the beginnings of tears in Amelie's eyes.
Myrnin looks over at Amelie with a small smile, proud of the success of his plan after such a short period of time. "Whatever is the matter, dear Amelie?" he asks her, just as her hand shoots out to grab his head.
"I… I don't want to go to London anymore!" she wails in a tone that is so quiet even those really creepy dogs who can hear everything wouldn't be able to hear.
"Why is that?" Myrnin asks, playing the concerned friend card.
"There is this girl there!" she cries, pointing at Hannah. "If I have to be in the same country as her again, I may actually shoot someone; look at how she is trying to draw the appalling side of London out! She is irritating and a hypocrite and I already hate her!"
"So you want the girl to leave?" Myrnin confirms, wondering whether or not this has been the shortest birthday 'treat' Amelie has ever had… true, his treats are actually things that benefit him more than Amelie, but that isn't the point.
"Yes… I want her to go to Oliver, tell him that I said that he can have her for the day and night and then have her on the first plane back to the damned capital of England within the next thirty six hours!" she cries, standing up and facing the suddenly turning around girl who looks confused.
"Wait… who is Oliver?" she asks, her brow furrowing.
"Someone who is our greatest of friends," Amelie snarls, stalking away from Hannah and across the room before she kills her. But she is still intrigued. "What does that text message mean?"
"Um…friend, don't piss me off because, to be honest, I can't be arsed at the minute," Hannah recites instantly, a small smile on her face at the ludicrousness of this statement.
Amelie nods slowly, understanding, before motioning to Myrnin to take the girl away to Oliver's, kicking and screaming. Then she looks through the photos again, just for…
"Oh, oh my days," she widens her eyes as she looks at the designer shops, the rows and rows of shops that have clothes in her size!
Myrnin returns, just to find Amelie has returned to her home and is feverishly finding her (fake) passport. "Amelie, chill out, man, it isn't as if we're gonna be late to a meeting or whatever," he says, having picked up some slang on the way over that is apparently not cockney.
Amelie narrows her eyes at him, trying to figure out if this is a joke or not. "Why on earth are you speaking like that?"
"I'm trying to pick up the modern lingo, so to speak, so I thought it would be good if we took classes from this girl I found on the internet: she isn't like Hannah – she's called Jess and she just speaks normally; I thought you would like to be kept up to date with one of your favourite countries and how they speak," he grins, flashing a piece of paper with a phone number on it at Amelie. She takes it without a second glance and tosses it in the suitcase she is rapidly filling. "Wait, where are you going?" he asks her, confused.
"London, of course," she rolls her eyes as if this is obvious, having forgotten that she told him she never wanted to go there again.
"But you hate London," he says, motioning for her guards to come and take her away into the mental asylum she had him build because it is well known she gets a little loopy on birthdays.
"No, I hate the language; I suppose, so long as they don't speak, I can go because of the shops," her face melts as she confesses her love for retail therapy. "And if not, then I can just kill them."
Myrnin has the guards come and take her into her bedroom kicking and screaming like Hannah was earlier before he then contemplates what she could have for her birthday now. Claire is making the cake, so that isn't needed, and he doubts that she would listen to him when she told him mere minutes ago that she would have him castrated then make him sit through rather alluring performances from various shows around town.
So he decides to throw in the dvd player and the disc which Hannah left lying around, a note on the top saying:
She left this teach yourself English slang and cockney disc. You may as well learn it. Happy birthday.
Ahhhh well, he thinks, with a small smile, at least she isn't melancholy anymore.
And, with that, he goes to ring Jess to learn how to speak English slang.
BIG thanks to Hanziii again, who corrected some of my cockney slang