Disclaimer: Well, these characters don't belong to me. I just wish they did. Please, please, please
don't sue me

Title: Cruddy Sunday

Author: Murphdawg20@yahoo.com

Spoilers:(None) Rating: PG

Description: Three short stories about what a few of our favorite
characters are doing on their Sunday morning off.

Categories: Humor, Challenge Response

Pairings:(None)

Warnings: Just a hint of foul language

Author's Notes: This is a response to Challenge #:3 I'm new to
the site, and this is my first story. I hope you enjoy it



"Welcome to McDonald's," the voice from the speaker said, "can I take your
order?"

"Yeah, hi," Toby Ziegler said from his car, "I'd like an Egg McMuffin value meal
with a small coffee."

"Sorry sir," the voice replied, "but we stop serving breakfast at 10:30."

"It's only 10:28 according to my watch," Toby replied sounding a bit more
annoyed than he would have liked.

"Sir, according to the clock in here, it's 10:35, and breakfast is over. Would
like to order from our lunch menu?"

"No, I would not like to order from your damn lunch menu. I want my Egg
McMuffin, and I want it for breakfast, which it still IS, because it's only,"
Toby looked at his watch, "10:29."

"Sir," the voice retorted in a slightly menacing tone," you may either order
from our breakfast menu, or stop blocking the drive thru."

As if to reinforce "The Voice's" last statement, the driver in the car behind
Toby honked her horn. Toby cursed as he threw his car into gear and sped away
from the damned McDonald's. As he pulled out into the street, he chanced a
glance at his dashboard clock. It read 10:37. So even his car was against him
this Sunday morning? More than a little peeved at the insubordinate clock, he
reached down to synchronize it with his watch. He looked up just in time to see
the front of his vehicle rear end an SUV. As he walked up to the driver's side
front window of the SUV to see if everyone was safe, the SUV's driver opened his
door and stepped out. In one hand was a cup of coffee. In the other was an Egg
McMuffin.

*********************************************************************************
Leo McGarry, left his favorite local coffee shop with his favorite blend of
coffee. It was his new favorite Sunday tradition. He would grab a cup of
coffee, a crisp copy of the Sunday paper, then walk to the park where he would
spend the morning reading and pouring caffeine into his body. He loved these
Sunday mornings when he was not busy being interviewed by a morning show, or in
the office working. It didn't happen often(Once a month if he was LUCKY!), but
when he could get a Sunday morning all to himself, it really started the week
off on the right trac.....

"Excuse me, sir."

Leo turned around to see a young woman, probably no more than 20, walking up to
him.

"Hi," he said in a friendly tone, "how may I help you?"

"Aren't you Leo McGarry, the president's chief of staff."

Leo smiled, "As a matter of fact I am. What's your name?"

"My name is Molly," the woman said. "I'm a huge fan of President Bartlet. Oh,
my God, I can't believe it's really you! You are like....so awesome. I'm a
political science major at Georgetown, and I'm, like a total supporter of the
Democratic Party."

Leo was flattered. It wasn't often that people so young recognized him. They
spoke for a few minutes before Leo began dropping hints that he wanted to be on
his way. However, the woman, God bless her, wanted to continue to tell him of
all the work she had done for the Young Democrats. Finally, he just decided to be frank with her.

"Molly," he said, "I'm sorry to cut our conversation short, but I need to be
running along."

"Sure," she said, " I understand. You probably have a big day over at the White
House."

"No," Leo replied, "actually I'm off today. I was just on my way to the park."
His voice trailed off as he said park. He had made a grave mistake and he knew it.

"Great," Molly gushed, "that's where I'm going too! Hey, let me walk you there.
It would be an honor."

"This was my Sunday," Leo's mind screamed."MY Sunday. I won't have another
Sunday morning to myself for God knows how long."

Despite himself, he smiled at the woman.

"Thanks," he said, "I would love to walk to the park with you."

********************************************************************************


"OK, but this is the LAST game."

Joshua Lyman looked at his best friend Sam Seaborn.

"OK," Josh conceded, "fair enough."

After work the night before, the two had gone to a local bar for a few drinks.
Before long, they were half drunk. Sam, had challenged Josh to a game of pool.
Before long, Sam had soundly beaten Josh at the game. His pride wounded, Josh
then challenged Sam to another game. Sam, always up for a challenge, suggested
a wager be put on the game. Josh agreed. Nearly twelve hours later, both men
were exhausted. After playing nearly one hundred games of pool and being kicked
out of 4 bars, Josh owed Sam nearly $500. Sam didn't care about the money
(didn't even want it anymore), but he couldn't help but laugh at the way his
friend refused to admit that he was a crappy pool player.

The balls were racked, and Josh broke. Immediately, the "Eight" ball careened
into a corner pocket. Sam wins again.

"Son of a bitch," Josh nearly yelled.

"Well, that's the end of that," Sam said. "Keep your money, Josh, but go get
some sleep."

Sam turned, and began to walk away from his friend.

"Double or nothing," Josh challenged.

"At what," Sam asked, "pool? Give it up, man."

"Not pool," Josh said, "a beeper race."

Sam looked at his friend dumbfounded. "Beeper race?"

"Yeah," Josh said. "We set our beepers to 'vibrate' and see which one makes it
across the table first."

"Josh, you really need to sleep."

"Oh, c'mon. This is IT. I promise, no more challenges of any kind after this."

"All right," Sam said, accepting his friend's challenge.

The two men set their beepers on the table. The devices were set to vibrate,
and their owners let them go. Josh's shot ahead of Sam's. The pagers hopped
across the faux mahogany as their owners cheered them on. Josh's was still
ahead when it veered sideways and fell off of the table.

Sam smirked. "Well," he said,"I guess I win the 'First Annual Pager Race.'"

"No way," Josh argued. "That's a do over."

"Yours went out of bounds! It's disqualified."

"Best two out of three."