Rating: G (Humor, Gen)

Disclaimer: Yada yada yada, don't own the guys. Love 'em. Have been wooed by them. They own me. <g>

Warnings: In all fairness to my favorite betas, I couldn't bring myself to ask any of them to beta this. 'Cause, you know... it wouldn't have been fair. Not even sure I would have known how to beta this one myself. I did spell check, though! I think this thing darn near crashed the program. One dear reader suggested that this is best read with a cold. Or out loud. Or out loud with a cold. In any case, hope you enjoy!

Tchapade

by Red Soprano

copyright: 12/01

<ring>

"Ellison speaking."

"Jib?"

"Hey, Chief. What's up?"

"You allboh duhd a' work?"

"Uh, yeah. Almost done. Just a couple of reports to finish. What are you up to?"

"I was dheegihd."

"You were naked? Gee, Sandburg, I don't know what to say. Thanks for sharing?"

"Dot daygihd! Dheegihd."

"Oh! Thinking! Sorry. What were you thinking?"

"We deed bore sdubf for duh pardy."

"About the party, Chief. We can always cancel it, you know. I mean, you still sound terrible."

"Ihdz Dew Years, Jib! I wadda pardy. I be fide."

"Well, I don't suppose there's any danger of your giving this bug to anybody else since you were the last one to get it."

"Righd. Besidz I'b goihg duhdz ziddihg aroud doihg duthihg. Duhdz! Which rebides be. We deed bix duhdz for duh pardy."

"Check. Mixed nuts."

"Ad sodas."

"Good idea. We need something non-alcoholic."

"Do we hab edubf boods?"

"I was going to pick up a keg on the way home. What other kind of booze were you thinking of? Remember, these are cops. We don't want to get too rowdy."

"I bakihg by faybous puhtch."

"You're baking a putch? That's nice. Umm ...what's a putch?"

"Puhtch! Puhtch! By eggdog puhtch."

"Punch, punch. Gotcha. I suppose you need rub for this eggdog punch?"

"Vehwy fuddy, Jib. <sniff> I'll hab you doh, I'b dzuffuhwihg fwuhb ad ohwihbuh idfoo-ehdzuh."

"You don't have a horrible influenza, Chief. Not even the garden-variety flu. You've got a cold."

"Ad ohwihbuh, ohwihbuh code. I' bidzuhwuhboh."

"Maybe you'd be less miserable if you'd get some rest instead of running around like some crazed Martha Stewart wannabe buzzed on Theraflu. Look, Chief, we've got until tomorrow night. I'll pick up the stuff we need and you can make your famous punch tomorrow."

"Whaddaboud oh durbz?"

"Sandburg, this is the gang from the bullpen, remember? They don't do hors d'oeuvres. They do chips, dip, maybe a cheese log, some cold cuts...."

"Should be hoebade dip."

"Fine, fine! I know a couple of good dip recipes Sally used to make."

<sniff>

<long pause>

"Blair?"

"Wha'?"

"You okay?"

"Uh-huh. Juhz dheegihd."

"Not that again...."

"Cuhdfeddy."

<sigh> "Confetti."

"Pardy hadz."

"Ooookay.... Party hats."

"Ad doyzbaykuhz."

"And noisemakers. Right."

"Jib?"

"What?"

"You wridig dhiz dowd?"

"Oh yeah, sure. Writing it down. Hats and horns and all that good stuff."

"I dhihk you juhz hooberig be."

"Newsflash, Chief. I always humor you when you get like this."

"Lie-gwhad?"

"Like this. One big jumble of feverish overdrive. I learned long ago if I just go along with you until you tucker yourself out, you'll eventually lie down for a nice nap."

<pause>

"Chief?"

"You wooed be, Jib."

"I wooed you? Look, I love ya, kid, but trust me, wooing was not my intention."

"Dot wooed be! Wooed be! I'b wooooooooooded!"

<snort>

"Quihd labfihg."

"I'm sorry, Chief. <chuckle> I don't mean to wound you."

"Uh-huh."

"Honest. Look, you need anything else?"

"Yeah. Boze ihbportad of all."

"More important than the mixed duhdz?"

"Uh-huh. Tchapade."

"Tchapade?"

"Yeah, for bid-dight. Whed we toas' th' dew year. Ad for whed I kiss Behgad."

"Ah! Yeah, okay. That is important. Especially if you're planning on laying one on Mehgan."

"You betcha. You wode forgehd?"

"'Course not. It's right here on my list."

"You dot hooberig be agaid?"

"Nope. Honest. Done with the humoring. I'm here for you, buddy."

"Dangz, Jib."

"See ya later, Chief."

****

Somewhere around midnight the next evening.…

"Jim, it's almost midnight, what did you do with the champagne?"

"The what?"

"Champagne, Jim. You know. Midnight? Toasting the new year? Kissing a certain police inspector and getting away with it?"

"Oh."

"What, 'oh'? Jim, you did get the champagne, didn't you? It was, like, the most important thing on the list, man."

"Uh, well, you see, Chief ... I thought 'cause you'd been so sick, you know, with the red nose and the chapped lips and all that ... I mean, c'mon, it was an honest mistake!"

"Mistake?"

"See, I thought it was because you were worried about kissing Mehgan and I thought you said to bring, uh ... well...."

"Spit it out, Ellison."

"You want some lip balm, Chief? Here...."

"Huh? Aw, man, you didn't...."

"Your favorite brand. Chap-Aid."

***

THE END