The Purple Monstrosity Ship
Title: The Purple Monstrosity Ship
Author:
secularsaint
Rating: PG
Summary: Patrick and Peter build a (not really) time machine.
Disclaimer: My brain supplies the thoughts, my fingers type them.
Author's Notes: A new chapter of No Fact or Fiction is coming kinda soon, I'm aware it's taking forever. I'll probably have another oneshot up before I can post the next chapter.
It was early, too early really. Which is why it is of some significance to state that there were two people standing amidst the dew and early morning sunshine in a yard in a small suburb of Chicago. They were both male and both rather short. But, really they were opposites. One was stocky and dark. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin, with extremely bright clothing. The other was a bit larger and very pale, with light hair and light eyes. His clothing was unobtrusive and he wore a hat over his head. He was called Patrick. The other was Peter.
Chance had brought these two together. They had bigger and better Things To Do later on in life, but for now they were two confused boys standing in the dawn. Peter had planned this, Peter was always the planner. He did almost nothing else, though it would take him some time to figure that out. Patrick was comfortable waiting. He did almost nothing else, though it would take him some time to figure that out.
In front of the boys was a pile of wood, cardboard, nails, carpenters glue, measuring tape, a small electric knife (the miracle kind advertised on late night infomercials), paint, and one pair of safety goggles. Patrick looked at Peter and made a confused face. "Are we building something? You got me out of bed to build something?"
Peter smiled and dusted the dirt of the front of his pants. "Yes."
Patrick waited a few moments, waiting for Peter to add on to his sentence. Peter just stared patiently at Patrick, planning. Patrick sighed, "What are we building?"
Peter smiled. "A time machine."
Patrick groaned, "I'm going back to sleep. Wake me when there's actual sunlight out here. Good luck with the future thing."
"No!" Peter ran and caught Patrick before he went in the door, "I'm serious."
Patrick turned around and look into Peter's unattractively colored eyes. "Why?" He waited for an answer before continuing. When he got none he spoke, "You know this isn't going to work, right?"
Peter smiled wryly, "Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust, Wendy Darling. Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust." Patrick heaved a sigh, he wasn't sure how much he liked being called Wendy.
"If we die, it's your fault."
"Okay." Patrick sighed (he did a lot of that when Peter was around), and walked back to the middle of the front yard. He picked up the measuring tape and looked at the cheap wood. He sighed and struggled to get accurate measurements. He marked each piece's length with a pencil Peter had handed him.
It took the two all morning to build their time machine. When it was finished it was quite unique. It was six feet tall and four feet by four feet wide. It vaguely resembled an oversized phone booth. Except, it was painted purple and sported various pictures. There were two windows, one at each end, and no door. Which caused the windows to double as doors. It was possible to cover the window-doors with several large pieces of cardboard layered together (for support and because paint is a rather serviceable glue) that was ingeniously attached to the side of the window with a cunning latch designed by Patrick (that Peter will later take the credit for). Because both boys agreed that if they were to do any serious time-traveling they would be safer if they did not see what the were traveling through. They couldn't say why, but it appeared to make sense.
It was very close to noon (11:54) when Patrick fought his way into the purple monstrosity-ship (as it was earlier christened). They covered the entrance/window and were left in almost complete darkness. Although the PMS (Purple Monstrosity-Ship) was really quite spacious the two boys found themselves both pressed into a corner, and consequently, each other. Peter could smell Patrick's clean laundry and Patrick could smell Peter's lack of. Neither commented.
They spent several minutes in the PMS until Peter decided that they had done enough traveling through time and wanted to investigate. They separated, rather reluctantly, and uncovered their windows.
Everything looked exactly the same.
Patrick was annoyed.
Peter was not discouraged.
"See Pete, I told you it wouldn't work."
Peter had been planning on this and therefore didn't miss a beat, "No, Patrick. We've gone forward in time. We're both dead, nobody can see us. Let's go explore." He explained it slowly, like he was talking to a none-too-bright child, and he sounded like he actually believed what he had just said. They both crawled out of the PMS and looked around.
It was just after one and the sun was shining hot and bright. Peter walked happily down the street and Patrick followed him, tired and bored. They spent that entire day exploring "the future", and it was close to midnight when they found themselves laying in the grass, in a field "of the future." Peter was staring happily up at the stars and Patrick was thinking of Peter. "I think if you were a jellybean you'd be licorice."
Peter laughed, "Why licorice? I don't even like licorice. I hate it."
Patrick smiled, "Exactly! You either love licorice or you hate it! There's no in-between ground," Patrick sat up and made hand gestures to further demonstrate his point, "and then sometimes you get tired of licorice, but after a couple of days you always want more. So it's solved; you're licorice."
Peter was smiling, one of his real smiles. His eyes were dancing and he was laughing. "Okay, well if I'm licorice, then what are you?"
"I don't know, I haven't thought about it."
Peter pulled a thoughtful face and rested his chin in his hand. "Well, I think you'd be Strawberry. Because Strawberry is fucking amazing."
Patrick laughed, "All that thought I put into yours and the only reason you can give to me is that it's amazing? You suck."
Peter grinned and raised an eyebrow, "Yeah. I do."
Later that night the PMS was used for a rather...different reason then time traveling.
Author:
secularsaintRating: PG
Summary: Patrick and Peter build a (not really) time machine.
Disclaimer: My brain supplies the thoughts, my fingers type them.
Author's Notes: A new chapter of No Fact or Fiction is coming kinda soon, I'm aware it's taking forever. I'll probably have another oneshot up before I can post the next chapter.
It was early, too early really. Which is why it is of some significance to state that there were two people standing amidst the dew and early morning sunshine in a yard in a small suburb of Chicago. They were both male and both rather short. But, really they were opposites. One was stocky and dark. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin, with extremely bright clothing. The other was a bit larger and very pale, with light hair and light eyes. His clothing was unobtrusive and he wore a hat over his head. He was called Patrick. The other was Peter.
Chance had brought these two together. They had bigger and better Things To Do later on in life, but for now they were two confused boys standing in the dawn. Peter had planned this, Peter was always the planner. He did almost nothing else, though it would take him some time to figure that out. Patrick was comfortable waiting. He did almost nothing else, though it would take him some time to figure that out.
In front of the boys was a pile of wood, cardboard, nails, carpenters glue, measuring tape, a small electric knife (the miracle kind advertised on late night infomercials), paint, and one pair of safety goggles. Patrick looked at Peter and made a confused face. "Are we building something? You got me out of bed to build something?"
Peter smiled and dusted the dirt of the front of his pants. "Yes."
Patrick waited a few moments, waiting for Peter to add on to his sentence. Peter just stared patiently at Patrick, planning. Patrick sighed, "What are we building?"
Peter smiled. "A time machine."
Patrick groaned, "I'm going back to sleep. Wake me when there's actual sunlight out here. Good luck with the future thing."
"No!" Peter ran and caught Patrick before he went in the door, "I'm serious."
Patrick turned around and look into Peter's unattractively colored eyes. "Why?" He waited for an answer before continuing. When he got none he spoke, "You know this isn't going to work, right?"
Peter smiled wryly, "Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust, Wendy Darling. Faith, Trust, and Pixie Dust." Patrick heaved a sigh, he wasn't sure how much he liked being called Wendy.
"If we die, it's your fault."
"Okay." Patrick sighed (he did a lot of that when Peter was around), and walked back to the middle of the front yard. He picked up the measuring tape and looked at the cheap wood. He sighed and struggled to get accurate measurements. He marked each piece's length with a pencil Peter had handed him.
It took the two all morning to build their time machine. When it was finished it was quite unique. It was six feet tall and four feet by four feet wide. It vaguely resembled an oversized phone booth. Except, it was painted purple and sported various pictures. There were two windows, one at each end, and no door. Which caused the windows to double as doors. It was possible to cover the window-doors with several large pieces of cardboard layered together (for support and because paint is a rather serviceable glue) that was ingeniously attached to the side of the window with a cunning latch designed by Patrick (that Peter will later take the credit for). Because both boys agreed that if they were to do any serious time-traveling they would be safer if they did not see what the were traveling through. They couldn't say why, but it appeared to make sense.
It was very close to noon (11:54) when Patrick fought his way into the purple monstrosity-ship (as it was earlier christened). They covered the entrance/window and were left in almost complete darkness. Although the PMS (Purple Monstrosity-Ship) was really quite spacious the two boys found themselves both pressed into a corner, and consequently, each other. Peter could smell Patrick's clean laundry and Patrick could smell Peter's lack of. Neither commented.
They spent several minutes in the PMS until Peter decided that they had done enough traveling through time and wanted to investigate. They separated, rather reluctantly, and uncovered their windows.
Everything looked exactly the same.
Patrick was annoyed.
Peter was not discouraged.
"See Pete, I told you it wouldn't work."
Peter had been planning on this and therefore didn't miss a beat, "No, Patrick. We've gone forward in time. We're both dead, nobody can see us. Let's go explore." He explained it slowly, like he was talking to a none-too-bright child, and he sounded like he actually believed what he had just said. They both crawled out of the PMS and looked around.
It was just after one and the sun was shining hot and bright. Peter walked happily down the street and Patrick followed him, tired and bored. They spent that entire day exploring "the future", and it was close to midnight when they found themselves laying in the grass, in a field "of the future." Peter was staring happily up at the stars and Patrick was thinking of Peter. "I think if you were a jellybean you'd be licorice."
Peter laughed, "Why licorice? I don't even like licorice. I hate it."
Patrick smiled, "Exactly! You either love licorice or you hate it! There's no in-between ground," Patrick sat up and made hand gestures to further demonstrate his point, "and then sometimes you get tired of licorice, but after a couple of days you always want more. So it's solved; you're licorice."
Peter was smiling, one of his real smiles. His eyes were dancing and he was laughing. "Okay, well if I'm licorice, then what are you?"
"I don't know, I haven't thought about it."
Peter pulled a thoughtful face and rested his chin in his hand. "Well, I think you'd be Strawberry. Because Strawberry is fucking amazing."
Patrick laughed, "All that thought I put into yours and the only reason you can give to me is that it's amazing? You suck."
Peter grinned and raised an eyebrow, "Yeah. I do."
Later that night the PMS was used for a rather...different reason then time traveling.