A/N: Oneshot of Stan and Karen in the episode "Mad Dogs and Average Men" after Grace leaves them at the opera.
Disclaimer: I don't own Will and Grace, any of its characters or any dialogue from the shows.
An Evening Out With The Walkers
"Your hair's already such a disaster that the Red Cross wouldn't give it coffee!"
Karen could barely control her amusement at this insult, and shared her delight with her neighbours, who nodded and high fived her almost resignedly. Her hysteria wasn't passing, so she kicked Stanley's head that was lying against her feet, and, beaming as he sleepily opened his eyes, said, "Red Cross! Stanley, Red Cross won't give it coffee!" And she collapsed on top of him.
He chuckled even though he had little idea what she was laughing about. Judging by the unimpressed face of Grace behind his wife's hair, he assumed it was a joke at her expense. When Karen finally calmed down enough to clamber back into her seat, Grace nodded politely and said, "Nice to see you Stan. I'll be going now."
Stan smiled politely at her as she negotiated her way around his vast girth, and watched her leave.
Karen's mood was very cheery, and she said happily, "Come on, Stanley, sit your fat ass up, you're missing the concert!"
So, Stan began to heave his way into a sitting position, while thinking that the turkey had worn off, and he wouldn't say no to a couple of doughnuts. When he finally managed to stand, the two behind Karen gave him an exasperated look. When he merely glared back at them, the man said irritably, "Would you mind sitting down, Mr Walker, we can't see a thing!"
Stan scowled at him, and then turned to his wife, and demanded, "Why are these people sitting here?"
"I don't know, honey, but they're awfully distracting. Lord, those outfits alone are enough to tear attention from a good quality porn movie, let alone this junk!"
Stan sniggered, and flopped into his seat, causing an ominous cracking sound to emit from the depth of the balcony.
This seemed to be the last straw for the couple, and the woman huffily said, "Let's go, we can watch this another time."
Her husband nodded, and the pair got up to leave. Karen took the opportunity to pour the rest of her drink onto the woman's coat and say consolingly, "Oh, there honey, it looks much better now."
Spluttering in fury, the two left, and Karen sighed. "Now who are we going to annoy, Stan?" she asked gloomily.
Stan considered this for a moment, and then leaned over the balcony to stare at the people sitting beneath them. "Throw something on them, Kare, so they look up and see me," he suggested.
Delighted with this suggestion, Karen chucked her empty glass into the crowd. They started at the sound of it breaking, and a couple of them looked up. The shock of seeing Stanley Walker looming over the edge of the balcony above them washed over their faces, and they nudged their neighbours in horror.
Stan and Karen burst in to fits of giggles at the ten or so frightened forms, cowering nervously into their seats. It was always a frightening experience sitting beneath the Walkers. Stanley was so large that they had heard the opera house had to inspect and often structurally repair his balcony every time he was there. There were also rumours that they had had to take out extra insurance once it became known that Stanley Walker frequented the establishment.
As if the thought of being crushed to death in the middle of Madame Butterfly wasn't enough, Karen was known to make a sport of target-shooting audience members (and occasionally the performers) with a variety of things, including drinks, pills, shoes and occasionally water-filled condoms.
The two Walkers continued to peer over at the audience until the area under their balcony was vacated. Once their giggling subsided, Stan asked, "What was Grace doing here, then?"
Karen sighed, and rolled her eyes. "She wants to date Sumner," she explained in disgust. "That girl's terrible taste in men is only surpassed by her terrible taste in clothing."
Stanley grunted. As fond as he had grown of Grace over the years, he couldn't deny that his wife's jabs at her were often thoroughly worth it. This one was right. He dealt with Sumner only for Karen, but that boy was one uninteresting humourless little snot.
"Hope you talked her out of it," he said. "She needs someone with a personality."
Karen grinned at him. "That's what I told her! You know, after she didn't believe he was married, a con-artist, a woman or a robot."
Stan grinned back at his wife. How he had managed to find his soul mate in such a beautiful woman, he would never know.
"C'mon, Kare, let's get out of here."
She looked at him, and then nodded. "You're right, honey, there's nothing left to do here."
They gathered themselves together, and stepped through the curtain into the corridor outside. They nearly bumped into a nervous looking manager and furious looking usher.
"Excuse me, Mr and Mrs Walker," the manager began, "but this usher here says that a friend of yours physically assaulted her in order to get into your box without a ticket."
There was a long pause as Stan and Karen stared at him disinterestedly as though waiting for him to get to the point. When he didn't, Stan merely nodded, and said, "Alright, have a good evening."
"Um, Mr Walker, it's against the policy here to manhandle our ushers, or to view the production without purchasing a ticket, so if you wouldn't mind asking your associates to refrain from such behavior, I'm sure we would much appreciate it."
Irritated by the delay in getting his wife into the bedroom, and acquiring some doughnuts on the way, Stan retorted, "With all the money my wife and I spend here, you can afford not to charge for five minutes of this stupid show. And on top of that, you hire ushers that can be easily overpowered in a moment? What kind of security do you call that?"
"Um, ushers aren't really here for security-"
"Thanks, I'll bear that in mind," said Stan with a nod, and he and Karen pushed past them and down the stairs.
"I need another drink," said Karen, "and you must be needing a doughnut or two by now. Shall we stop by the bar on the way out?"
"Of course, my darling," said Stan amicably.
So, they approached the bar. By the time they had gotten there, there was a martini and a box of Krispy Kremes on the counter. The Walkers grabbed their respective items, and departed without a word.
The bartender breathed in relief. The last time he had almost been fired for not having a martini waiting by the time Mrs Walker had reached the bar. As for the doughnuts, Stanley paid all areas he often visited to keep at least one box of fresh doughnuts on hand every day just in case. He watched the eccentric pair leave. The enormous man, with strangely placed eyes, oddly proportioned limbs and a toupee already munching on a doughnut, and his wife, stunningly beautiful with her fur coat, jewellery, and martini, popping some pills into her mouth.
It was strange how they complemented each other, despite their very obvious disparities. He shuddered, glad that they had left. He had been a nervous wreck since their arrival an hour ago.
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