Summary: Complete title: 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall, Elton John and an Ice-Pick Make Marita a Drunk Girl. Humour. Marita gets drunk. Harem beer bottle challenge fic.

99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall, Elton John and an Ice-Pick Make Marita a Drunk Girl 1/1
Lanie Duncan

FEEDBACK: lanya@siren.nu
SPOILERS: None, but set in Season 9.
SUMMARY: The world is gonna end when someone writes a story = Marita + stiletto + Mets cap + snow on the ground + Elton John + 99 bottles of beer on the wall...
DEDICATIONS: The gals at the Harem list, and maidenjedi for starting this. ;D


She really can't sing, and if she ever got her currently drunk ass into heaven the angels would kick her out for her less than melodic voice.

"Think I'm gonna kill myself...cause a little suicide...stick around for a couple of days...what a scandal if I died.." she howled to that old Elton John song (you can't go wrong with Elton! she often told Alex in the car), sitting there in the lone apartment that showed the world outside, coated in a thin layer of snow that would eventually melt. She didn't give a shit. In one hand was an empty bottle of beer--Bud, to be exact, and there were about five more scattered on the floor along with a bunch of old issues of the New York Times she felt like getting out and looking over for the sake of posterity--and in the other the ice-pick, the stiletto.

Why in the hell did she have that?

Perhaps she was amusing herself, poking the stiletto at the glass bottle. If it was one of those aluminum cans and if she was in her drunk state, she'd probably end up poking at the can when it still had beer in it and make a damn mess and cackle insanely like those old hags in those stories--like the evil witch in Hansel and Gretel.

Absently, she stabbed it into the cushion of the white chair she was sprawled in. Her blonde hair was messy, mussed up, sticking up all over, and over her head was a Mets baseball cap a few sizes too large for her head, the bill obscuring the view of her glassy green gaze. (She'll laugh at me for the alliteration.)

"Peeeeeople pushing everywheeeeeeere... tralalalalaaaa... think I'm gonna go buy a forty-foooooooooooooooour..."

(She got kicked out of choir in grammar school because she had no talent, although she had talent for the piano.)

"Yeah... I'm gonna kill myself..." Here she took a swig of the beer. "Get a little headline news... I'd like to see what the papers say... on the state of--"

Her singing abruptly stopped as he stood there, staring at her with that vacant, blank look that she was supposed to have, being drunk and all. "....." was what he said, which equals to nothing.

"...teeeeenage bluuuuuuuues!"

END

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FEEDBACK: lanya@siren.nu