Strictly Ornamental (daasgrrl) wrote,
Strictly Ornamental
daasgrrl

Inanimation

Title: Inanimation
By: daasgrrl
Pairing: House/Inanimate Objects (not that way)
Rating: G
Word count: 800
Notes: Crack response to karaokegal's Inanimate Objects poll and the brilliant   crackfic drabbles Jealousy by karaokegaland Envy by drunken_hedghog. Written in 40 minutes, for completely inexplicable reasons.


INANIMATION

It was chaos. Everything was trying to speak at once, and nothing was listening. The Piano had had enough. It started playing the opening chords of Beethoven's Fifth, going heavy on the loud pedal. After a few repetitions, the hubbub finally died down enough for it to be heard.

"It's quite clear, I think," it said, in a rich, velvety tone, "that House loves me the best. He's taken me to three different apartments and I always get a special mover just for me. I've known him the longest, and I'm the best he's ever had. Only I can soothe his tortured soul."

"Rubbish," screeched the Guitar, strumming itself in fury. "He's been with me since he was a teenager, long before you came on the scene."

"He started learning how to play when he was eight."

"But not with you! No, he went through at least two other Pianos before he bought you! Whereas me, I'm his first, his only. He loves me more than anything!"

"Oh yeah? Then why does he treat you so badly? You can't even give him two successive chords in tune."

"He's just nervous!"

"Yeah, right. If he actually spent more time with you, maybe he wouldn't be." The Piano played an arpeggio of triumph.

There was a sudden rippling cascade of tinned music, followed by the sound of a tiny explosion. "Excuse please," the Gameboy interrupted. "I really do not like to tell you this, but House loves me more than either of you. Only I can entertain him and take his mind off his troubles. Whenever he's with either of you, it's only because he's miserable. I give him color and movement and men with moustaches. I brighten his day."

"Hmph," sniffed the Red Coffee Cup. "Then why does he spend so much time swearing at you? Now, me, he's always pleased to see. He caresses me with his lips, and tells me how beautiful I am, which is more I can say for any of you."

"It's not you he loves, it's the coffee!" the BOUO cried, surprising all of them. "And you don't deserve him, you slut! I've seen Chase sticking his spoon into you, and Wilson holding you in his hands, and you liked it!"

"That was my sister!" the Red Coffee Cup insisted. "And besides, you can talk. You let everyone play with you! Chase especially. Don't think I haven't seen the way you let him roll you around."

"I'm just helping him think! It's a working relationship!"

"Suuure it is. The same 'working relationship' you have with House? Your whole existence is a lie. No-one even knows what you are, where you came from. Now me, I'm from quality stock, made in Italy, I was. I'm surprised he associates with you at all."

"Originist!"

Chaos broke out again as the Red Coffee Cup and the BOUO continued to hurl insults at each other while the other objects took sides. Finally the Cane called for silence by rapping sharply on the Table (which wasn't interested in the competition, and just wished House would use a coaster more often) and raising itself in the air threateningly.

"I've had just about enough of this!" it said imperiously. "I don't see why you even bother arguing. I'm the one he truly loves. He just takes advantage of all of you whenever he wants, but it's me he depends on, it's me he takes everywhere with him from the minute he gets up to the minute he goes to bed. Wherever he goes, he does it with his hand firmly wrapped around my handle. Every day I give him my unflinching love and support. None of you can say as much," it declared, leaving the others clearly at a loss.

"What about all the other Canes?" the Piano began, but then there came a single, small cough, only a tiny sound in the crowded room, but somehow it immediately turned everyone's attention to the little orange bottle seated on the TV (which had fallen asleep hours ago). The Vicodin drew itself up to its full height (which wasn't much) and shook itself, once, with a small rattling sound. It didn't say anything. It didn't have to.

"Well, fine," said the Piano, and slammed its lid down furiously. The Guitar said nothing, but strummed a mournful chord and lay back down again. Muttering words no-one could understand, the Gameboy switched itself off after a last high-pitched whine, and the Red Coffee Cup and the BOUO finally stopped their bickering. The Cane thumped the poor beleaguered Table a few times out of sheer frustration, and fell silent. The Vicodin sat in the half-dark and smiled quietly to itself.

Suddenly the room was flooded with light through the front window, closely followed by a terrible growling sound, getting steadily louder and louder as though it were some fierce creature about to strike.

"Oh, shit!" screamed the BOUO, seconds before it was pierced by flying glass shards. "We forgot about the motorbike!"

END

Tags: crack, fic, gen, house, pg
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