Thwap!
"Pete!"
"Sorry, Zed."
"Not yet, but give it a
while."
Venkman slanted a look up at
his partner and grinned. The handful of slime had hit Winston dead center on the
last clean shirt the man had. Mother Goose's latest visit from the Land of
Fairy-tale Misfits had left every surface of the firehouse coated with
ectoplasm. With the building itself finally livable again, Winston had
conscripted Peter to help him scrape slime out of the less delicate parts of
their equipment. Peter contemplated the slowly growing bucket of ooze he was
accumulating and debated appropriate uses.
Egon's mousse? Ray's kiwi jam? Winston's Tom's Farms toothpaste? If he
dried it out and powdered it, would it match Janine's eye shadow, and would it
reconstitute when wet?
"Peter, what are you
doing with that trap, and why are you doing it on the floor?"
"Egon!" Peter's
head snapped up in surprise, the sudden movement startling the physicist in
turn. Venkman grabbed at his mate's shirt, just a second too late when the tall
blond went over, taking the bucket of slime with him.
"My shirt!"
"The meter!"
"The KEY!"
Egon stopped brushing at his
shirt, caught by the unlikely sight of Peter Venkman voluntarily stretched flat
in a spreading pool of slime, digging for something under the couch.
He blinked and took a second look, then pointed to the steel cuff
circling Peter's ankle, the other end secured to the heavy furniture.
His "Winston?" and raised eyebrow encompassed a world of
meaning.
Winston shrugged. "Hey,
it was the only way I could get him to stay here long enough to get any work
done."
"But to the couch?"
Further discussion was broken
by the clatter of Ray charging up the stairs. His momentum carried him into the
workroom and onto the Venkman-covered ooze before he could stop. Down he went
with a yelp and a thud, packages flying out of his hands. Sudden impact broke
open a Laymon's candy bag, spilling candy corn and other vaguely farm related
treats across the room.
"Ray, you okay?"
Winston reached to pull the stunned engineer up, and brushed ineffectually at
the sticky mess oozing down the seat of Ray's pants.
"A little tender, but
gosh, I think I must have squished Peter."
The psychologist in question
was now a third of the way under the sofa, muttering something that sounded
like, "gottagogottagogottagoandwhereisthedamnedKEY."
"Peter?" Egon bent
over to watch his other half wedge himself a little further under the furniture,
apparently attempting to merge with the dust bunnies.
"Got it!" Peter
suddenly yelped, and wiggled backwards. Flushed and dusty, he came up for air
and only then seemed to realize what he'd been crawling in. "Yeeeaaaachhh!
All over my last clean shirt!"
"Hey, that's okay Peter,
I just got our logo shirts from the silk screener. We can wear those until the
laundry finishes." Ray reached for another one of the scattered bags, and
pulled out a pile of black cotton. Egon andWinston both caught the shirts their
youngest partner tossed at them, and the three quickly replaced their goop
soaked clothing. Ray started to toss the fourth to Peter, but hesitated. The
normally agile Venkman was juggling a pair of small keys; to all appearances,
the ectoplasm had coated both them and his hands, making unlocking the cuff
around his ankle a challenge.
"Egon!" Ray felt
himself blushing, then he tossed the fourth shirt in the general direction of
the sofa.
"No, Raymond, not me.
This is Winston's idea of a work incentive. What, Peter?"
Egon frowned, unable to quite decipher what the other was saying.
Suddenly the lock sprung open
under Peter's hand, and in a moment the man was up. "I said, I gotta go!
Clear the hall!" Venkman jumped for the doorway, scooping up the clothing
change on the way. "Thanks, Ray."
"Wait a minute Venkman,
you're not done yet!"
The psychologist paused in
the doorway, stripped off his shirt and threw it at his supervisor. Winston
fended off the disgusting mass with years of accumulated skill at
dodge-the-sock-ball. "Later,
Zed. Some things just can't wait, and Nature's one of them." Peter flipped
out the folded T-shirt and glanced at the "NO GHOSTS" logo on the
back.
Then he stopped dead in the
doorway. Looked again. Started laughing, and threw the shirt back at Stantz.
"You got a business on the side we should know about?" Still laughing,
they heard him stagger into the bathroom and shut the door.
Winston leaned over and
looked at Ray's back. "Oh Lord, have mercy."
Egon shoved his glasses up
while he tried to control his own laughter. "From your lips to Ra's ears,
Winston."
"You mean Ray's
ears."
"What?" Ray burst
out, and held up Peter's shirt. His mouth dropped open and then he let himself
get caught in the humor.
A sassy little cartoon billy
goat leaned out of the familiar circle-and-line with a smug wink.
"Goatbusters?!"
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