A/N Okay, this is silly and cheesy and completely superfluous to The When and the How: A Bone to Pick storyline. That is why I stuffed it in the circular file (garbage can) instead of chapter 208 and you are seeing it for the first time here in my outtakes! I hope it brings a smile to your face! ~ Mox
NOTE: In chapter 155, 'Demons Never Leave Peacefully', Booth comforted Brennan during their post-nosebleed conversation. As they sat on her hotel room floor in Haverford, he tried to make her laugh with this silly joke.
"Here's another joke … which I HOPE Hodgins doesn't tell Parker tomorrow …" said Booth, trying to lift her spirits as they sat on the floor of her hotel room.
"Let's hear it …" She said, sniffing.
"Okay. What do you call a fish poop?"
"A fish poop."
"It is a Hodgins kind of joke. Coprology, or scatology. One of his favorite areas of study," she says, smiling. "I give up, what do you call a fish poop?"
"A bass-turd. Get it? A bastard. Bass-turd," he says, protracting his pronunciation of the word.
"Oh, that's bad," she said, weakly chuckling away the last of her tremors.
"Yeah, it stinks," he added.
"Oh, hoh. You are just full of quips aren't you?" she smiled a little.
"Yeah, well, I'm full of something."
"And that's another scatological reference, isn't it?"
He grinned and kissed her on the top of her head.
Later, in chapter 208, 'Taking One For the Team', I had planned to revive the joke and see how Brennan would handle telling it to the team. This is what happened … and a little bit more … : )
The Cocksure Comedian
The team was still in Angela's office Monday morning discussing the Grimes/Solicious case before Brennan and Booth were leaving to catch a plane to Washington State.
"Where's the coroner's report?" Brennan searched her pile of files without success. "I'll run to my office and get it. While I'm gone, why don't you tell them the bastard joke, Booth?" Brennan suggested, walking toward the door.
"What?" Booth called after her.
"The bastard joke," said Brennan, turning to face him. "You know, the fish joke you told me," she prompted. "Dr. Hodgins, you will appreciate the humor for reasons that shall become apparent in a moment!" Turning on her heel, she left the group staring after her. "Hilarious!" They heard her shout over her shoulder, her laughter diminishing in volume along with the clacking of her heels.
"The bastard joke?" Prompted Hodgins. "This ought to be good," he said, with a cockeyed grin as he crossed his arms and waited to be entertained.
"I think I've heard that one," snorted Wendell, "except that—"
"Yep," said Booth, dropping his forehead in his palm. "She blew it."
"What? Fill me in guys. What's the scoop?" Said Angela, her interest piqued. "How could she have spoiled it already? You guys give her far too little credit. She actually has a rather clever, if not quirky, sense of humor—if you can figure out what she's actually saying."
"Yep," said Booth, shaking his head as his shoulders fell.
"So, what's the joke? No—don't tell me," Camille smirked. "If it came from the father of a preteen boy, it's gotta be scatological."
Five minutes later, Booth was still refusing to tell the joke.
Brennan returned to the room with the coroner's report. "Did you tell them, Booth?" she said expectantly. "Quite humorous, right?" She asked, nodding eagerly to the assembled group. "What? Why isn't anyone laughing?" She shot Booth a quizzical look.
"He won't tell us," complained Hodgins. "He wants you to tell it."
"You didn't tell them the joke, Booth?"
"You ruined it, Bones!" Booth whined in exasperation.
"Wha—? No, I didn't …" she insisted, small vertical lines appearing between her eyebrows.
"You're the brilliant one—" chuffed Booth smugly.
"—Yes. That's been clearly documented—" she agreed confidently.
"—then, you go ahead and tell it."
"But—you are much better at telling jokes, Booth. You actually enjoy it."
"Well, this time I have every confidence I will enjoy it even more—if you tell it.," he said, biting his lips to keep himself from laughing in her lovely face.
"Fine," she said with a confident nod.
"Fine," he repeated.
"I will, then," she said, but she continued to stare at him. "But— it's your joke, Booth. Are you sure?"
"I've never been surer."
"Surer is not a word, Booth. The grammatically correct way to say it is 'more sure'."
"Fine. I've never been more sure. And, uh, which joke are you going to tell us?" He crossed his arms and cocked an ear in her direction.
"The bastard joke," she said, giving him a queer stare.
"Okay. Now— go ahead and tell it so we can all get back to work!"
"Don't rush me, Booth. You always say a key component to successful joke delivery is the timing—"
"Yes, both timing and, uh, sequence are important, Bones. Why are you stalling? Go!"
"There's something disingenuous about your tone," she said, squinting at him circumspectly.
"Tell the damn joke so we can all get out of here while we're still young enough to get out of here without using walkers or wheelchairs!"
"Okay. Keep your shoes on!" She said, smiling and beginning to chuckle as she turned to face Hodgins, Angela, Wendell, Camille, and Sweets. She grinned at her audience with eyes full of impish delight.
"Well—?" It was Hodgins.
"What do you call—" Brennan stopped mid-question. Her gleeful expression of a moment ago froze, then dropped from her face and fell to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. She abruptly rounded on Booth, gave him the mother of all stink-eyes, and threw her hands up in the air. "Let's just get back to work," she tossed quietly over her shoulder as she turned toward the plasma screens.
"What? Come on!" Hodgins complained.
"No. Booth set me up!" She said, still facing the screens.
"I did not, Bones! You created this mess all on your own. Now you get to clean it up," he said with a smug grin.
"Would someone please put us out of our misery and tell the stinkin' joke?" Angela rolled her eyes so far to the back of her head that they almost got stuck there, leaving her to look like the cartoon drawings of Little Orphan Annie.
"Yeah, go ahead, Bones," said Booth, tossing a hand in her direction.
Brennan rounded on her colleagues this time. "If you must know, this is the joke: What do you call a fish poop?"
The room was silent for a beat.
"Bwwwaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!" Hodgins blurted. "You TOTALLY eff-ed that up, Dr. B. Wow! What a train wreck! You should really take a class—" he chortled.
Brennan stared hard at Hodgins.
"Actually," he began, clearing his throat and adopting an even tone, "I'd be happy to give you a couple of pointers—if you want."
"That won't be necessary, Dr. Hodgins," she said dryly, smirking at him. "You were correct, Booth. I ruined it."
Angela rolled her eyes. "I don't get it."
Camille's eyes squeezed shut in a pained expression at the inaneness of this entire conversation. She paused before shaking her head, then looked up at Angela. "What do you call a fish poop?" She repeated intently. "A Bass-turd."
"Angie, it's a bastard. A 'bass-turd'," he said, the left side of his mouth turning up, his eyes sparkling in amusement. "A bass is a fish, babe. A fish poop is a bass-turd."
Angela paused, then rolled her eyes. "Oh, for the love of—" She shook her head and looked at Booth, then chuckled quietly. "Typical," she snarked, before turning to Brennan. "I tried to defend you, Sweetie, but even I can't dig you out of this one," she snarked.
"Hm," grunted Brennan, propping her hands on her hips as she stared blankly at the screens. "I'm—all alone, huh?" She slowly rotated 180º to survey the group who continued to laugh and snort at her expense. Hodgins was the worst offender, not even pretending to hide his amusement anymore. Brennan looked him over, head to toe, and put her brain into third gear.
"Hm. Dr. Hodgins," Brennan intoned loudly over the din. "Dr. Hodgins! You consider yourself to be an accomplished practitioner in the art of jocularity."
"I can tell a joke, Dr. B, if that's what you mean, yeah," said Hodgins, still chuckling as he glanced sideways, raising a suggestive eyebrow at Wendell. The younger man looked back with a conspiratorial grin, then smiled coyly to himself.
After a moment, Wendel glanced up at Brennan through his eyelashes. "Dr. Hodgins can tell a couple of good jokes—though most of them are scatological or anti-establishment in nature."
"He is also quite adept at physical humor as well, is he not?" Brennan said, looking straight into Wendel's eyes.
Wendel hesitated, unsure what she meant or how to respond.
Brennan turned her gaze toward Hodgins.
"What?" Hodgins asked. "Slapstick, like The Three Stooges—Charlie Chaplin—Jim Carrey?"
Booth and Sweets stood by quietly watching. They could see that Hodgins' goose was about to be cooked, possibly even fried, and served back to him on a paper plate with a piece of humble pie for dessert.
"Or, perhaps, Dr. Hodgins," Brennan continued, turning to Angela with an exaggerated wink, "perhaps you're simply too sexy for this lab?"
"Wh-what?" Chuckled Booth, his face a mask of surprised curiosity.
"Uh," grunted Hodgins. "Of course I'm not too—sexy!" Hodgins snorted warily.
"Angela, what do you think? Is Dr. Hodgins too sexy for this lab?"
"I don't know, he's pretty hot," she crooned in falsetto as she shot Brennan a beaming grin and tapped on the plasma remote several times. An index of video files appeared on the screen. Angela clicked on the one entitled, 'Too Sexy' and watched as a still shot of security footage spread across the double screens.
It was Hodgins' empty office. Hodgins entered stage right, humming and grunting as he pushed a cart upon which sat a large cello-wrapped metal cube of some sort.
"What is this? Ange, have you been spying on me?" Hodgins gasped, his brow pinched in surprise.
"Aw, Jack, sometimes I just miss you when you're all the way over there, so, yeah," she shrugged adorably, "I guess you could say I spy on ya' a little bit."
"Oh, Angie," he replied, "that's sweet." He grinned proudly at his wife.
"I believe this is from the day your brand new variable thermostat incubator arrived," said Brennan, pointing at the cello-wrapped equipment and looking to Hodgins for confirmation, though she didn't any.
"Hey, that baby there is the latest in high-tech scientific equipment!" Hodgins said with an admiring smile. "You're looking at an eighty liter, twelve hundred power JP Selecta Poupinel with adjustable temperature from ambient +5 degree celsius up to 250º"
"A poopa—what?" Booth snorted.
"Now, that's definitely scatological," Sweets whispered to Booth out of the side of his mouth. The two chuckled silently; snorting through their noses.
"Hey, anyone got some poopcorn, maybe a slushie? This is about to get interesting," Booth whispered back, snickering. "This is better than The Kardashians!"
"Hodgie—" admonished Angela, "Shhhh!" Her eyes remained glued to the screen.
"The homogeneity of this baby—," continued Hodgins in a low voice though undeterred by his wife's interruptions or the murmured comments being traded behind him. "Oh, the homogeneity is constant and incomparable at +/- 2º of the working temperature and a resolution—" Hodgins was on a roll. He rocked side to side and pulled on his beard as his voice rose with his level of enthusiasm.
"Jack," Angela called, louder than before.
"You have no idea what I can do with this beautiful—"
"Hodgins, zip it and pay attention!" Commanded Angela.
"Pfft," Hodgins stopped abruptly, shrugged, and fell silent. "I'm just sayin'—wait, what does this have to do with slapstick?"
The group looked on silently as the entomologist on the screen unwound the cello-wrap from the top half of the large metal cube he'd just wheeled into his lab.
"Wait for it—" said Angela, a sly smile spreading across her face, exposing her perfectly straight teeth.
Hodgins finished unwrapping the item, revealing what looked like an enormous off-white and baby blue colored microwave.
"Wait for it—" Angela said again, barely able to hold back her excitement.
On the screen, Hodgins rolled the cart carrying his brand new equipment over to an electrical outlet and plugged it in. A faint humming could be heard, followed by three beeps. A red button began to flash; a small rectangular lime green digital screen presented four zeros in a row on it's console.
"Angela, is this really pertinent to the case—?" Camille was getting impatient.
"Oh, Cam. It's just fifteen seconds more," Angela promised, smiling sneakily in Camille's direction.
"Man, I love my job," Hodgins canned voice from the screen declared excitedly. "Oh, baby! Look at you!" He ran his fingertips over the top and sides of the cube. "You—are gorgeous!" His last few words were accompanied by a Hodgins-y giggle as he grabbed the instruction manual and began whipping through the pages. For ten seconds, he alternately glanced back and forth between the pamphlet and the metal cube. Finally, he turned several dials, opened the front-hinged door, removed the metal shelving, closed the door, and pushed a button. The interior light of the incubator flicked on.
"Angela, what's so funny about—" asked Hodgins nervously. He glanced over at Angela whose smile had somehow grown even wider than before. "Can't a guy enjoy the arrival of some state of the art equipment—"
Angela looked over at her husband, her eyebrow raised haughtily. Then she snorted sarcastically. "Sure he can, but does he need to serenade it?"
Once Angela's last comment registered in Hodgins' brain, he stopped smiling. His eyes flew open, his face turned red, and shock of pure adrenaline pierced his chest.
"Here it comes," said Brennan excitedly.
As the brand spanking new equipment purred quietly, Hodgins on the screen opened his mouth and burst out in song. Enthusiastically strutting back and forth across his lab à la Travolta in Saturday Night Fever, he belted out the first stanza of a tune he recalled from his middle school days:
"I'm—too sexy for this lab!
Too sexy for this lab, too sexy,
it's ma-ad! Doo-doo-doo-doo!"
He gently tapped a staccato rhythm against the top of the incubator until it beeped. Choosing an item from his lab counter, he placed it dead center inside the incubator, turned a dial, and pushed two buttons. He continued to sing and wave his arms about; twirling them here, flapping them there.
"I'm—too sexy for my love, too sexy for my lab,
no way I'm disco dancing!"
Wendel's mouth dropped open. Camille yelped, then slapped her hand across her mouth. Brennan and Angela exchanged a bopping fist bump. Sweets grinned ear to ear and chuckled quietly.
"Oh, man—" whined Hodgins, covering his eyes with his right hand, then dropping his fingers lower to cover the bottom half of his face. His eyes were glued to the screen; it was like watching a car accident—as horrified as he was, he couldn't look away.
"Dr. Hodgins, I'd say you actually were, quite literally, disco dancing, yeah!" Sweets couldn't help adding his own little Travolta pose followed by a hip thrust.
When the video finally stopped, Hodgins was caught mid-strutt in a life-sized still shot.
"Wow! Ha!" Spat Booth, swinging around to stare at Hodgins. "My performance was waaaaay better than that!" He hit Hodgins on the shoulder with a closed fist and continued to laugh.
Camille chuckled through her nose in short bursts. Angela and Brennan exchanged several self-congratulatory glances.
"Ange!" Hodgins accused incredulously as his whole face and neck blushed crimson. "Traitor! My own wife!"
"Just wait, Honey," she said, wiggling her eyebrows at her husband. She tapped on the digital remote and chose another file from the video index on the screen. Again Hodgins' office appeared but this time he was dead center. He stood in front of a smaller piece of what appeared to be brand new equipment. This contraption had all manner of bulbs, switches, and tubes attached to it in every direction.
"Hey, that's my Buchi RotaVapor R210 with a V-855 vacuum controller and a Polytetrafluoroethylene V700 diaphragm Vacuum Pump and a B491 bath that heats up to— Oh, no!"
He was interrupted by his own hollow singing voice coming at him from the plasma speakers.
"You're once—twice—three times a lady and I lo-o-o-ve yoooouuuu!"
"Hoooo noooo! Turn it off or just kill me now!" Cried Hodgins closing his eyes and dropping his head back, then forward where he deposited it in his palm and shook his head. No one paid any attention to the real Hodgins; they were busy gasping and laughing at his on-screen doppelganger.
"God, this is painful," guffawed Booth, delirious with laughter.
"Quite revealing," remarked Sweets. "Though I am not in the least surprised." Sweets' shoulders bounced as he chuckled quietly.
Hodgins' serenade continued.
"When we—are together—the moments I cherish—with every beat of my heart ...
… There's nothing to keep us apart-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-art."
As if on cue, Angela, Brennan, and Camille began crooning the vocals along with the video:
"Oooooooooh, Whooo, whooo, whooo!"
Then Sweets joined in at the tail end inserting a final wisp of soprano:
"Oh, my God," said Camille, her eyes damp with tears, her cheeks stabbed with pain from laughing so hard. "Please tell me this isn't the reason we just spent fifteen grand to upgrade our security system video software."
Angela grinned sheepishly at Camille and began tapping on her remote once again.
"Okay, that's enough, people. Back to the case," said Cam, sniffing, gingerly wiping the corners of her eyes, and stepping forward.
"But Dr. Saroyan, it is important that the team understand what size invertebrates most excite Dr. Hodgins." Brennan said, adopting a mockingly serious tone. Then Brennan flashed a conspiratorial grin at Angela who chuckled and grinned back, nodding. In unison, the two chanted:
"He likes BIG BUGS and he cannot lie
Those other brothers can't deny
That when a bug walks in
with six legs, antennae and twelve eyes
gonna get my work done, uh huh!
Baby got WINGS!
"OH. MY. GOD!" Hodgins bent over mocking serious abdominal injury. He dug his elbows into the flesh of his thighs and dropped his face in his hands. "Ohhhhhh! Make the bad lady stop!" He wailed to no one in particular.
As the laughter swelled around him, he popped up and lunged playfully at his wife, screaming "Give me that thing, you vituperous wench!"
There you have it, people. See you soon with chapter 210!
💜 Much thanks goes to these wonderful readers for their expressed appreciation of 💜
the previous chapter entitled, 'The Vanishing Bone'!
JBCFlyers19, FaithinBones, jsboneslover, soxgirl69, chosenname, Fluffybird, pasha54, geraghtyvl, MJRojas28, ghlover8907, ciaomichaella, farchester, EveyEve1215, daniellejoy07, yoshimi0701, daisesndaffidols, Sambrace, bostonlegalgirl, Maunzeli, hillhappy, mef1013, nertooold54, Ondiac, Hillhappy, bubbles526, Appiedala, kdgteacher7, Diko, latetobones,
and last, but never least, the ineffable DWBBFan!