Fandom: STARSKY AND HUTCH
Pairing: none (mushy gen)
Length: short story
Author on LJ:unknown
Author Website: http://www.zebra3blt.net/TheBlintzStories.htmlWhy this must be read: This is a fanfic spoof, and makes me laugh so hard I cry.
EXCERPT:The two men held each other for seven and a half minutes until Hutch pulled away, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand because he had forgotten to wash his light blue handkerchief and didn’t want to carry one that didn’t precisely match the color of his eyes. “Hey, buddy,” he said, trying to achieve a light-hearted tone to his voice to change the mood some. “Take a look in this picnic basket. I have a surprise for you.”
Starsky’s eye’s lit up like a little kid at Christmas as he enthusiastically threw back to lid of the basket and began to plunder through the contents. “Oh, boy!” he shouted, triumphantly holding up a bottle of root beer in one hand and two slices of cold pizza in the other. “What a treat, Hutch! I can’t believe it! You think of everything.”
Hutch grinned broadly, secretly pleased at his partner’s praise. “You betcha. Why don’t you take the basket over to that picnic table and eat your breakfast while I go get something for me to eat? We can’t play a good game of volleyball on an empty stomach.”
Starsky obediently trotted off to the nearby picnic table and chose a spot out of the ever brightening rays of the sun so that he and Hutch wouldn’t be blinded by the light and therefore unable to play a decent game of volleyball. In the meantime, Hutch headed into the water, grateful for the storm the night before as it made it so much easier for him to harvest the seaweed that was floating in the shallow waves. He gathered up an armful and smiled a huge, toothy smile. There was nothing he liked better than fresh seaweed and it looked like today was going to be a red letter day. He took his prize catch back to the picnic area, stopping long enough to rinse his breakfast in the fresh water fountain so conveniently provided by the parks and recreation service.
The two detectives and best friends ate their respective breakfasts, complete with slices of tomato that Starsky had conveniently brought to surprise his partner, in companionable silence, each man concentrating on the day ahead and what it would take for them to win the volleyball trophy for the Ninth Precinct.
Of Volleyball and Friendship