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Jan. 9th, 2006 03:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gone_byebye(Something that'll take place after Ray finally gets to go home again. It involves Ray's family.)
Alan Haff looked up from his newspaper as a flash of brown and blue raced past the kitchen window. "That's the fifth time so far," he observed, and glanced to his wife. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the motion of a second blur, this one smaller, slower. "I suppose they're playing Airplane again?"
Catherine laughed, despite being elbow-deep in her briefcase. "No, no," she assured her husband. "They're running laps, if you can believe it."
He frowned; he couldn't possibly have heard that right. "Laps," he said.
"Around the house and front yard." She set the briefcase down, her BlackBerry safely located and retrieved.
"They're. . . five. And four," Alan pointed out. For some reason the prospect seemed all wrong.
"I know," said Catherine, taking down a mug and pausing. "More coffee?"
"Please." He frowned, glancing to the window, but the boys hadn't made it the rest of the way around yet. "Laps," he repeated.
"Uh huh."
He paused, the lid to the sugar bowl in one hand. "Why?"
Catherine smiled. "Would you believe my brother said they should?"
"Your. . . this would be Ray? That brother?" He couldn't have heard that right.
"I only have the one brother, Alan," Catherine said.
Alan shook his head and started dumping sugar by the spoonful into his mug. "He of all people- Catherine, I've seen your brother. Where does he get off making our boys run laps?"
It occurred to him, even as he said it, that he might have been more politic about the sentiment. Fortunately, Catherine didn't seem to take it amiss. "Apparently, this was their idea. If you can believe that."
He turned the statement over in his mind several times, but couldn't find an angle from which it made sense. "Okay," he said slowly. "I'm probably going to regret this, but how was it their idea, if he recommended it?"
Catherine sat down across the table from him, her coffee mug cradled in both her hands. "Well, it seems Alan, there, got tired of trying to wear us down about those karate lessons he wanted, so he went to Uncle Ray-"
Alan blinked. "It won't be his birthday for months. He knows the Bellmore sensei won't take him until he's six."
"You know how impatient he gets."
"I suppose. So what did your brother say?"
She smiled. "That he shouldn't try to get what he wanted from his uncle when his parents had already told him no-"
"Well, that's a relief," Alan muttered. Another flash of brown and blue went by.
"You're being uncharitable now. Ray might not always remember to get his ducks in a row before he does something, but he's never suggested other people follow his example."
"No, but the other partners at his firm-" He didn't care for the name, or what they did; being forced to admit they were more than frauds was bad enough. "Venkman in particular-"
"I know, I know. But Ray's not as bad- anyway, that's what he told Alex, but apparently Alex didn't like that answer. Neither did Joey."
Alan sighed. "I suppose saying that Joey is four won't make a difference?"
"I'm not sure my brother really takes that into account," Catherine admitted. "Anyway, Alex asked him what he could do instead of karate. So Ray offered to help him get ready for when he was old enough to take lessons. You know, start getting into shape now so that he'd impress the sensei later."
At this rate, Alan wasn't going to get any of his coffee before it went cold. He'd quite forgotten that he was holding the mug in midair. "That's remarkable forethought on his part," he said at last. "It sounds… almost harmless."
"I know. Weird, isn't it?"
Alan shook his head and set down his mug. "So what's the catch?"
Catherine sighed.
Alan felt a glimmer of satisfaction. He'd known there was no such thing as a really harmless suggestion where Ray was involved.
"Well, he did use the word 'apprentices'…"
There came a rapping at the window; Alan looked up. It was Joey, grinning gleefully at his parents and waving his latest toy before dashing off after his brother again. Alan blinked. "Catherine, was I imagining it, or-"
"You weren't," she said resignedly. "Ray painted up sticks for both of them to look like lightsabers."
"Oy," said Alan, which was how most conversations about Ray usually ended around the Haff household.
Alan Haff looked up from his newspaper as a flash of brown and blue raced past the kitchen window. "That's the fifth time so far," he observed, and glanced to his wife. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the motion of a second blur, this one smaller, slower. "I suppose they're playing Airplane again?"
Catherine laughed, despite being elbow-deep in her briefcase. "No, no," she assured her husband. "They're running laps, if you can believe it."
He frowned; he couldn't possibly have heard that right. "Laps," he said.
"Around the house and front yard." She set the briefcase down, her BlackBerry safely located and retrieved.
"They're. . . five. And four," Alan pointed out. For some reason the prospect seemed all wrong.
"I know," said Catherine, taking down a mug and pausing. "More coffee?"
"Please." He frowned, glancing to the window, but the boys hadn't made it the rest of the way around yet. "Laps," he repeated.
"Uh huh."
He paused, the lid to the sugar bowl in one hand. "Why?"
Catherine smiled. "Would you believe my brother said they should?"
"Your. . . this would be Ray? That brother?" He couldn't have heard that right.
"I only have the one brother, Alan," Catherine said.
Alan shook his head and started dumping sugar by the spoonful into his mug. "He of all people- Catherine, I've seen your brother. Where does he get off making our boys run laps?"
It occurred to him, even as he said it, that he might have been more politic about the sentiment. Fortunately, Catherine didn't seem to take it amiss. "Apparently, this was their idea. If you can believe that."
He turned the statement over in his mind several times, but couldn't find an angle from which it made sense. "Okay," he said slowly. "I'm probably going to regret this, but how was it their idea, if he recommended it?"
Catherine sat down across the table from him, her coffee mug cradled in both her hands. "Well, it seems Alan, there, got tired of trying to wear us down about those karate lessons he wanted, so he went to Uncle Ray-"
Alan blinked. "It won't be his birthday for months. He knows the Bellmore sensei won't take him until he's six."
"You know how impatient he gets."
"I suppose. So what did your brother say?"
She smiled. "That he shouldn't try to get what he wanted from his uncle when his parents had already told him no-"
"Well, that's a relief," Alan muttered. Another flash of brown and blue went by.
"You're being uncharitable now. Ray might not always remember to get his ducks in a row before he does something, but he's never suggested other people follow his example."
"No, but the other partners at his firm-" He didn't care for the name, or what they did; being forced to admit they were more than frauds was bad enough. "Venkman in particular-"
"I know, I know. But Ray's not as bad- anyway, that's what he told Alex, but apparently Alex didn't like that answer. Neither did Joey."
Alan sighed. "I suppose saying that Joey is four won't make a difference?"
"I'm not sure my brother really takes that into account," Catherine admitted. "Anyway, Alex asked him what he could do instead of karate. So Ray offered to help him get ready for when he was old enough to take lessons. You know, start getting into shape now so that he'd impress the sensei later."
At this rate, Alan wasn't going to get any of his coffee before it went cold. He'd quite forgotten that he was holding the mug in midair. "That's remarkable forethought on his part," he said at last. "It sounds… almost harmless."
"I know. Weird, isn't it?"
Alan shook his head and set down his mug. "So what's the catch?"
Catherine sighed.
Alan felt a glimmer of satisfaction. He'd known there was no such thing as a really harmless suggestion where Ray was involved.
"Well, he did use the word 'apprentices'…"
There came a rapping at the window; Alan looked up. It was Joey, grinning gleefully at his parents and waving his latest toy before dashing off after his brother again. Alan blinked. "Catherine, was I imagining it, or-"
"You weren't," she said resignedly. "Ray painted up sticks for both of them to look like lightsabers."
"Oy," said Alan, which was how most conversations about Ray usually ended around the Haff household.
