THE ERATO SUITE, Movement # 2
THE WRATH OF MOM by Ster Julie
DISCLAIMER: Don't own Trek. Wish I did. It may own ME,
however.
Characters: Amanda, OFC
Rating: PG
Genre: Goofy
Setting: My kitchen.
A/N: The Erato Suit in Four Movements is my quartet of silly
stories. It involves Erato, a fan writer who keeps getting visited by one
TOS character or another. In the first story, "Another
Storyteller," Erato is visited by Spock who asks her to set the story
straight about him and his relationships. Movement 2 involves Amanda, Movement
3 is about Christine, and in Movement 4, the rest of the gang happen by.
What's a poor author to do?
You can read the other stories here:
#1 http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1465912/1/
#3 http://www.fanfiction.net/s/1967097/1/
#4 http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2066978/1/
---
"WHAT IS THIS?!"
I jumped at the sound of woman's voice, one very pissed off woman's
voice. Odd thing was, I knew I was alone, the doors were locked, and the
windows were on the safety latch. No one else should be here. I put
aside my laptop, eased myself quietly off the couch and padded on slippered
feet toward the kitchen.
Through the doorway, I could see a slim, older woman. Her face was framed
by short, pearly white hair, which set off her expressive blue eyes
beautifully. The dove-grey robes she wore gave her a stately air, despite
the tantrum she was in the midst of throwing.
I pulled myself up short. I recognized this woman. "Not
again!" I groaned. Spock had only left a few hours before.
Screwing up my courage, I walked into the kitchen. "Lady Amanda," I began.
"WHAT IS THIS?!" she repeated, waving one of my refrigerator
magnets under my nose.
I backed up, afraid that this slip of a woman was about to knock my block off.
"Well, Missy?" she hissed. "I asked you a
question!"
That did it! Nobody but old Aunt Thena called me Missy. Actually
she called every girl in the family Missy—and the boys Buster—because she
couldn't remember anyone's name. Didn't mean that I liked it, and today I
was in no mood to be spoken to like that.
"The name's Erato," I said, snatching the magnet out of Amanda's
hand, "and that's my fridgie."
The two of us glared at each other for a moment, panting, and sizing each other
up. I shook my head.
"I don't know what's going on today," I muttered.
"You son just left here not three hours ago." Amanda's
face softened.
"Spock was here?" she murmured. Shaking herself, Amanda tried
to recapture her earlier indignation. "Why do you have that?"
she asked, pointing with distaste at my magnet.
"It's a picture of your son," I replied in confusion.
"Why do you object to it?"
"Look at it," Amanda stated as if that would answer my
question.
"So?" I replied.
"Look at Spock's face!" she ordered.
I looked. Spock was his hands before him, fingers touching, and he was
staring a little wild-eyed into the space between his palms.
"That was taken at Koon-ut Kali-fee, wasn't it?" Amanda
demanded moving aimlessly through my house. "Spock was deep in the plak
tow, then, burning for that little bitch--"
"Lady Amanda!" I was shocked.
"Hey, I can be a le matya when I need to be!" she
retorted. "The thing is, this was the most private moment of Spock's
life, an extremely difficult time in his life. He would be mortified
if he saw it hanging on display!"
Suddenly, Amanda stopped dead in her tracks. Oh no! I thought. She
has spotted the picture by my bed!
"WHAT IS THIS?!" she screamed. I blocked her from ripping it
off my wall!
It was a photo-manipulation of a shirtless Spock, his black leather pants slung
low on his hips. One eyebrow was raised; the other was covered by the
long hair hanging in his face. His goatee was neatly trimmed and it
framed his luscious lips.
"Mine!" was all I could say, moving between Amanda and the
picture. "II can be a le matya, too, you know!"
Amanda's hand was blocked from my artwork, so instead she seized my liquor
decanter bust of Spock from STTMP. The head came off in Amanda's hand,
and she screamed. The rest of the bust fell over, knocking the candles
and flowers I had arranged on either side of the bust after STWOK. I
leapt over and caught Spock's head as it slipped from his mother's fingers.
"THIS IS SICK!" Amanda shouted. Turning to storm out of my
room, she espied another poster of Spock, also from "Amok
Time." The sight of being on the business end of a lirpa
unnerved her. She hurried from the room toward the door. I was able
to finally catch up to her at the door.
"Please, Amanda. Don't go," I begged. "I don't know
why you came, and you're leaving already."
Amanda took several deep breaths to stop her trembling before she could
speak. "I came to ask a
favor," she whispered.
"Anything," I soothed. "What kind of favor?"
"I was looking for someone who could prevent this kind of shameful
marketing," Amanda replied.
"Shameful marketing?" I repeated lamely. She should look online
and see the kind of stuff that's out there for free, including some extremely
hot pictures of her own husband!
"It varies from place to place," Amanda replied. "I've
seen pictures of my own son plastered on billboards, on something called 'ice
lollies,' on rubber stamps, coffee mugs."
I pushed my mug under the couch with one foot.
".T-shirts, stickers, dolls, and all sorts of folderol. It has to
stop." Amanda moved closer to me, pleading with her voice and her
eyes. "Can you help?"
I looked into those beautiful orbs, knowing now how they had once melted an
ambassador's heart. I wanted to leap tall buildings for her, to cure a
rainy day, to do just as she said—but I knew that it was unfeasible. I shook
my head sadly. "It would be
impossible," I breathed. "As long as there is a market,
manufacturers will continue to put your son's face out there. "
"Vulcan produces beautiful musical instruments and fabulous
textiles," Amanda countered. "Couldn't those be marketed
instead?"
"Unless the instruments and the textiles bear the likeness of your son,
they just won't sell," I replied.
Amanda's shoulders slumped sadly. "Could you at least start a decency campaign?" she
asked. "A 'good taste' movement?"
I pondered this. Would this be considered a violation of Free
Speech? I looked into those entreating eyes again and melted.
"I'll see what I can do," I promised. I don't see how this
could ever happen, not with the "dark side" of the right of free
speech, but why dash her hopes?
I was rewarded with one of Amanda's sweet smiles. I was hoping that my
security camera captured it. It would make great wallpaper!
"Thank you so much," she replied warmly. "I appreciate
whatever you can do, uh, Miss…?"
"Erato," I supplied.
Amanda blinked. "Erato? Like the muse?"
I rolled my eyes.
"I get that all the time," I answered, exasperated.
"Yes, Erato.
Like the muse. We're Greek, for Pete's sake!"
"Oh!" Amanda replied. "I thought it was a nickname, or
that you didn't trust me with your real name."
I smiled. "Your
son thought the same thing," I chuckled.
It was fascinating to see the warm and loving look that came over Amanda's face
as I mentioned Spock. She truly loved her boy!
"Fascinating!" she replied.
We both enjoyed a hearty laugh. I reached out a hand to Amanda, which she
squeezed firmly.
"Please come back again, Lady Amanda," I invited. "I would
love to hear some wonderful baby stories about Spock."
Amanda threw back her head and chuckled.
"You and everybody else!"
END Movement #2