A/N: This is a very random one-shot, my first Mork and Mindy, and I honestly have no idea where it came from or what it ended up as.
Somewhere in time, date unknown.
Mindy held onto Mork. The blue vortex swirled around them in an endless spiral. Up became down, down became up. There was no end in sight as the two free-flew hand-in-hand through time and space.
"Oh, Mork, I'm scared." Mindy cried. Beside her, Mork swallowed his own fear and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. The ruby slippers on his feet were guiding them now. He had no control over where or when they would end up, but he wasn't going to let her know how much trouble they were in.
"Oh, don't be, Mind. Just hold on. I don't know what's in store for us, but whatever happens we'll have each other."
Sensing she was close to tears, he tried harder. "Just think about it. We have all of time to explore! We could end up in the Jurassic Period, the Bronze Period, or the Blue Period. It could be the beginning of time, the end of time, or no time. Imagine it, all the greatest cities in the world at different stages of development, Paris, Cairo, Milwaukee—"
"Milwaukee? What's so great about that?" Mindy interrupted.
Mork thought about it. "It's a part of my origin story, Mind. Don't knock the Skunky City. Besides, if we ended up there, at least we would be with people who cook their hamburgers first."
"Yeah, if we don't wind up in the Stone Age again," Mindy grinned, "or worse, the Art Deco Period."
"Ar, ar," Mork laughed, happy with her attempted humor. "Yeah, and if we land in the 60's we would only have to wait some twenty years to see Mearth again."
Mindy sighed. "Sure, but what's the chances?"
Mork slipped his fingers through hers. "Approximately a gazillion to one, but those are better odds than us finding our own time by accident, Mind."
He watched her face fall and his hearts began to hurt. More than anything he wished he could erase the events of the last couple weeks and make their life whole again.
"You were right, Mork." Mindy said after a moment of silence. "At least we're together." Leaning over, she planted a firm kiss on his lips.
Milwaukee, Wisconsin, 1961.
They were going to be late. Again.
Laverne DeFazio skated across the bedroom floor on her stocking feet, buckling a purple belt around her waist.
"Shirl, get out of the bathroom already!" She called, passing the door on the way to the closet. "We're gonna be late for our dates!"
From inside the bathroom, her roommate returned the shout. "You can't rush beauty!"
Laverne rolled her eyes. Sometimes, Shirley Feeney was impossible. "I'm not rushing Beauty, I'm rushing you. What are you doing in there?" Sliding back across the room, she caught her foot on the throw rug and fell into the vanity table. Fortunately, she needed earrings anyway.
The bathroom door opened, and Shirley walked out fuming. "I've got a run in my stockings, and I can't fix it."
"Did you try nail polish?" Laverne snapped the pearl clips on her earlobes.
Shirley nodded, smoothing her skirt. "It's too big, so I made a matching run up the other leg instead." She turned around to show. "Do you think anyone will notice?"
Laverne raised an eyebrow. The back of Shirley's legs had two neat lines running from ankle to hemline. It looked ridiculous. "Not if you add tassels." She suggested.
"I'd sooner wear the pair from the gas station." Shirley sniffed.
"I don't know." Laverne shrugged. "I think you would do better tonight with tassels. Not with legs that say "Earl's Texaco" in green."
Shirley pulled a face. "Ha. Just for that, Richard and I get the backseat ton—"
Crash! The sound of glass shattering interrupted their conversation.
Laverne jumped in her skin. "What was that?" She cried.
"I don't know!" Shirley squeaked. "It sounded like it came from the living room!"
Mindy gave Mork a glare. "Look at what you did?" She hissed.
"Shazbot." He muttered, looking down at the broken candy dish on the linoleum floor. He hadn't meant to knock it off. Reappearing from a time vortex on top of a kitchen table was the last thing he expected.
"Where do you think we are?" Mindy asked, climbing down from a chair. "At least the people here have stoves."
Mork studied the kitchenette and living room with a critical eye; both were an uncoordinated jumble of faded wallpaper, worn furniture, and mismatched lamps. "If it's not the set of a 70's sitcom, then I'd say Sears divorced Roebuck and this is what was left."
He hopped off the table. There was a calendar on the wall beside a built-in dumbwaiter. Mork took a look and instantly grew excited.
"Hey Mind! Pooter, we made it! It's June 8, 1961!" He spun around to face her, arms wide open.
Mindy's jaw dropped. "The 60's? I thought you said it was a gazillion to one chance?"
"I did! But today must be our one, haza! Oh, bring on Polaroid, Nixon…McDonalds!" Mork did a little jig before enwrapping his wife in a hug.
"Maybe our luck has changed, Mork." Mindy returned the embrace, feeling safe for the first time in days.
"Hold it right there." A raucous female voice ordered.
Mork and Mindy froze, still locked in each other's arms, all good feelings gone.
"I think it changed too much, Mind." Mork whispered in her ear. She responded by clutching the back of his vest.
"Okay, now turn around slowly." A second voice said. This one was higher and sweeter than the first, without the heavy Bronx accent.
"Kay-o." Mork agreed, lifting his arms free of Mindy. Together they turned to face their captors.
Two women, one small, one tall, both dressed to the nines and armed with baseball bats, stood in front of them. The smaller of the two had short, bobbed, hair, and a petite, tomboyish, figure. Her heart-shaped face and perky features were accented with rouge and a wide-eyed expression befit for a clown. The taller of the two was less refined, with a lanky, fuller, frame; a sculpted face, high cheekbones, and a unique overbite. At the moment, she was wearing an unattractive snarl, but what Mork noticed first was the giant 'L' sewn onto the chest of her polyester sweater.
It was Laverne DeFazio: his first Earth date.
"You," He gaped.
Laverne stared, her face paled. "You?" She gasped.
"Who?" Mindy and Shirley said together.
"Hide your earlobes, Shirl!" Laverne cried, stepping behind her roommate for protection. "This is that nut Fonz set me up with, the one with the weird fetishes who sat on his face!"
"Ewwww." Shirley's pert nose wrinkled as she looked Mork up and down, taking in his striped shirt, rainbow vest, and matching suspenders. "This is the guy? He sat on his face?"
"Yeah, and he said I had a fungus growin' outta my head." Laverne whined, lifting her bat threateningly. Mork grabbed Mindy for a shield.
"Whoa, time out!" Mindy shouted.
"Alright! Now, can someone please tell me what's going on?"
Mork raised his hand. "I believe I can."
He stepped out from behind her and stood between the three women. Adopting a calm and mature demeanor, he proceeded to explain. "Long story short, Mind, Laverne here is the girl I told you about, the one I met on Earth, my first date. It was a meaningless relationship, strictly physical attraction. I may have insulted her once, possibly twice, I did sit on my face, something I am not proud of, but hey, what did I know. I wore tight pants and penny loafers, and I didn't realize the top button on a dress shirt was just for show. Now, since we've dropped in from nowhere, landed in her kitchen, and broken a dish, she wants to beat my brains in with an oversized toothpick, which she can't do because I have matrimonial immunity, neener-neener."
He added the last two words childishly, and Laverne lifted her bat to strike. The two adopted threatening poses, forcing Mindy and Shirley to intervene before the fight.
"Mork, what are you doing?" Mindy cried, holding onto his arm.
"Don't blame me; blame the shiksa who stole Bugs Bunny's dentures." He snapped.
Shirley stood spread eagle, trying to keep her roommate at bay. "Where did you two come from?" She asked.
"Oh, we're a long way from home and we're very lost." Mindy replied, over her husband's repertoire of vicious dog noises. "My name is Mindy McConnell, by the way."
"I'm Shirley Feeney."
"Nice to meet you, this is my husband Mork."
Before Shirley could reply, she was shoved from behind. With a startled shriek, she tumbled to the floor.
Instantly, Mork knew he was in trouble. "Oh, please, Senorita Muchacha Alta." He begged in his best Spanish accent. "We are but two weary travelers seeking sanctuary from the harsh and unforgiving world we are lost in. Please, you can do us, me, no harm." He backed away, blathering, as Laverne advanced.
"This isn't a church." She said, flexing her grip on the handle.
"I think we were better off with the cavemen, Mind!" Mork yelped, grabbing her hand. He prepared to click his heels, hoping against all the ruby shoes would activate.
The bat swung.