St. Patrick's Day at Joe's Bar and Homeless Shelter
by Ursula
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. All I learned about honesty I learned from Cory Raines...
Rated: M
Fandom: Slash nonsense
Author's Notes: PS, anyone who wants to play in the bar and homeless shelter is welcome...no killings except willing immortals and clean the floors so no one slips.
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St. Patrick's Day in Joe's bar was traditionally the night of the great tall tale. Ricky Caruso had just finished his grand story of how he had single handily saved the earth from an alien menace greater then the Oilien by sacrificing his virtue repeatedly to a seven foot tall alien temptress for an entire week. He claimed that as a reward he would not physically age beyond the appearance of twenty-seven.
Krycek looked up from his beer, which thank God was not green or American. He snarled, "Are you sure that didn't mean never mentally reach beyond the IQ of twenty-seven?"
"What's wrong with him?" Ricky Caruso asked Krycek's ever-faithful Mulder, who appeared to be wearing multiple cock rings ... either that or the aliens had mutated his penis. Hmm, that might be worth investigating if Alex remained glum and savage for the night.
"He's mourning the troubles..." Mulder replied, "He was in the IRA for a while..."
"He's Irish?" Ricky asked, pondering the wanderings of the O'Kryceks to Russia.
At this point, Alex took Joe's guitar up and begin to play, no "When Irish Eyes were smiling" for him. His tune was "Foggy Dew"
Shaking his head, Mulder said, "He's as Irish as he's Russian."
Looking furtively around, Mulder mouthed with a shudder, "New Jersey,"
Ricky's big green eyes widened as he realized that Alex had suffered, suffered horribly...
Joe's Bar and Homeless Character Shelter Joe's Bar and Homeless Character
By this time Anson Green had crawled out from under the bar and was running his hand softly up and down Alex's leg. "I think I might be Irish too," Anson said.
Nodding, Alex stopped singing and gave his hand to his double. "We'll comfort each other and talk of the old country." Thus spoken, both men fell behind the counter, where the floor was padded for just such a frequent occurrence.
Mulder sniffed dramatically and Methos would have but he had discovered that one of the beer kegs was leaking. The brave man had thrown himself under it to save Joe's floor. Fortunately for him, Dustin had decided to reward his bravery. Loud slurping sounds came from behind the bar as Methos tried to consume every ounce of precious beer and Dustin tried to eat the whole abundance of Methos.
A few moments later, Methos hit octaves, which must have stemmed from prehistory. A dazzled Dustin came crawling out, blissfully slicked with the spoils of his love. Methos staggered out and into the men's room. A moment later, he emerged and yelled, "What the hell is this ugly thing where the urinal used to be?"
Putting down the glass he had been polishing, Joe explained, "It's a Tripod server....piss on it. Feel free to use the ones I've installed in the stalls too. I'm encouraging everyone to take a dump on Tripod."
Whistling, Joe returned to his task of making sure that all surfaces were reflective as mirrors in his bar. The scenery was too pretty around the place to be just seen once.
As Joe relaxed, several Mac 27s learning bar skills took his place. Joe hardly even charged them for the on-the-job-training, generous soul that he was. Cory Raines came in balancing his sword on his nose. It was impressive, even more impressive in that he was clad only in a black leather jacket, a man that was ready for action in every sense of the word.
Flipping the sword to his hand, Cory boosted his ass onto the bar. Joe leaned his head on the counter to enjoy the cheek of the man.
"Now, listen up, clones and clowns. This is the tale of how Cory Raines saw the leprechaun and conned him free of his gold."
"The story begins, my lads and my lady," Cory addressed.
Jess was the only female present. She had a smirk on her face. At her feet, neutered, a pink bow ensconced in his top fur, and a gentle leader about his toothless snout was the formerly fierce Jake, once the alpha male pack-leader of the werewolves. His woes had begin when he lifted his leg too high while standing on a bridge, trying to beat Jess's trick of standing on her front paws to pee higher than any of the male werewolves. He'd toppled off and knocked out his teeth and as a result of the brain injury forgotten how to change back to human. While in this state, he'd been mistaken for a wolf hybrid, neutered, groomed, obedience trained, and been released for adoption by wolf hybrid rescue. Jess had happened upon the adoption fair and very much impressed the committee with her knowledge of wolf behavior and her ability to out-alpha the dominant wolves.
Recognizing Jake immediately, Jess had applied to adopt him. Her impulse was caught between mercy and the desire for revenge. Now however, she was contemplating entering him in the mixed breed obedience competition. He really had become quite adorably docile in this state although the submissive peeing was quite a problem...
That aside, Cory sprawled on the bar and proceeded to tell his tale.
"It so happens that I had just had a disagreement with my teacher. The lovely fellow had stretched my neck for deer poaching and then dug me up to teach me and rehabilitate me. Lovely fellow...that Matthew McCormick. Swordplay was no problem for me, but honesty has never been my best policy. It appears he learned of a few of my adventures and had every intention of taking me to be hung again. Well, my hardies, although a little autoerotic asphyxiation can be fun; as a steady diet, it pales quickly. So I decided to get out of England for a while. It so happens that I was in Ireland for the first St. Patrick's Day celebration and I found myself on March 18, sore, naked, well laid, and penniless, lying out on the Irish sod. The third was a good thing but the rest not well for darling Cory at all."
At this point, besotted!Alex's disembodied voice yelled, "Damn English!"
Noticing that the voice came from under a rug and that the rug was of the two-hump variety, Cory decided to explain to Alex at a suitable time later that he was English, more or less, if immortals are anything that was. Besides the man was too cock eyed (Anson sometimes did not have the greatest control when Alex was devouring him...) to hear any sense.
"To my great surprise, I observed a small man clad in Lincoln green just like my own old band. He was dragging a great bag, which by its heavy weight I hoped might contain gold. I struggled to my feet, pried open my eyes and set to following him. Sure and enough, the bag snagged on a rock and I saw a small trail of gold dust before he patched it," Cory related.
"Now as you know, I rob the rich and give to the poor and as of that moment none were poorer than my poor naked self. Alas, before I had followed him much further than the foot of the rainbow, the canny wee man spied me."
"The cursing was a thing of beauty...not only did several of the frailer flowers wilt and die of it, but a mound of dung actually blushed and buried it self. Finer swearing I've never heard," Cory said, as he snagged some champagne for sustenance before he continued.
"The leprechaun spelled me dizzy, tied me up, and ravishing me, over coming me utterly. I was a good hour getting out of the rope and the sticky situation. Fortunately, a well-endowed Native hunter had trained me in tracking when I visited America with the Vikings. I was able to follow his tracks."
Richie Ryan, forced ever to ask the Dr. Watson questions unless Scully was about, questioned, "Wouldn't you have just been able to follow the rainbow?"
Cory drew himself to his full indignant height of eight inches...and rolledbehind the bar to tutor Richie in the finer points of story telling. Emerging an hour later, Cory stroked the blue ribbon around his neck that said, Number one bullshitter in the country... Grade A Stud material. He said, "Now where was I?"
"Ah, yes, I was on the trail of the elusive leprechaun," Cory said, "once again he spotted me but before he could ravish me..."
From a stock set up mid-floor, Duncan MacLeod grumbled, "Ravish indeed, how can ye ravish a man whose finest trick in combat is to trip ye and fall beneath ye in time to catch ye with open legs and ass? Na that that's a bad thing, mind ye..."
A wistful smile crossed the thin-lipped face as MacLeod contemplated hot tubs of yore...
Not letting the rabble distract him, Cory said, "I fell dead of cold and hunger. Apparently, the leprechaun was a man of some taste. He was wailing over my winsome corpse when I woke. Apparently it was his intention to bury me with his pot of gold. I played dead and allowed myself to be dragged to the grave and be tossed in. Of course, I was not able to dig myself out, an over sight I was contemplating as the air ran out...Fortunately, the old man happened by and dug me out. Saved by a nose...Of course, we had to have a tankard of ale or two to celebrate and the next thing I knew I was surrounded by wailing Irish women and on my way to America. I'd stayed drunk through the entire Elizabethan age...now I'll never know who wrote Francis Bacon's plays...."
Snorting, Ricky had enough. Besides, he had a yen for Mulder from a close examination of his double Denise in the game...Taking the agent's hand, Ricky said, "I can't top that with my true story. Let's go screw our way into forgetting our troubles."
Although Mulder willingly took Ricky's hand, he didn't believe the story Ricky had told was remotely true. Mulder's aliens might be into some damn kinky S and M and Bondage but they never abandoned the earth just because of how good someone fucked...
An elevator appeared. Poor Joe now owned a skyscraper as more Mac 27s arrived in the shelter by the day. He'd had to put in a swimming pool although that had worked out well for the bar. Everyone thought that he had recreated the old Las Vegas mermaid trick, but it was a very engineered Mac 27, created in honor of a wonderful story, who swam beneath the transparent section of the bar. Anyway, it was necessary to build several suites above the bar to accommodate all the lovely androids. Fortunately, the Mac 27s had built the elevator out of one of the unloved Mac 27s. Yes, poor hapless Tinman was now an elevator...The only real tragedy was that the elevator did not go entirely to the top.
However, as Mulder stepped out and he and Ricky walked to the penthouse suite where all the porn was kept, a beam of light bubbled in front of them. A seven foot tall naked blue alien woman appeared. She stared at Ricky and then at Mulder and said, "If you do not give me multiple orgasms over a two day period Earth will die!"
As both heroes walked into the suite to do their best to save the earth, no matter how fucking hard the job would be, a demanding female voice whined, "And this time, I want a shrubbery too!"
The End
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