The Countess Wore An L
Chapter Three
By Missy

SERIES: Goosebumps!
SUBSERIES: The Countess Wore An L
PART: three of undetermined for this arc
Author: Missy
Email: lasfic@yahoo.com
RATING: PG (For language)
PAIRING(s): L/L; S/C; S/R

DISTRIBUTION: To LW, Kai, and FG so far; any other archives are welcome to ask (Please Email Me), but disclaimers must be included, my email left intact. send a URL, and provide full disclaimers as well as credit me fully. Please inform me if you are going to submit my work to any sort of search engine. Please do not submit my work to a search engine that picks out random sets of words and uses them as key words, such as "Google"

Please contact me in order for this story to be placed on an archive, or if you want know of a friend who would enjoy my works, please email me their address and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!

DISCLAIMER: Laverne and Shirley, of course, not my property and belongs to its creators.

CATEGORY: Epic Drama
CANNON/SPOILERS: Pre-Reunion Show Cannon; set five years after the series' conclusion.
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Lenny finally graduates, and the gang heads to Poland, where mystery and intrigue await them.
NOTES: The first chapter in the seventh portion to this series. For previous chapters, see the Goosebumps! Section at LAS Fic or The Look. The next arc will be entitled The Countess Wore An "L".

And yes, I couldn't quite figure out how to spell the name of Lenny's soverign mini-nation, so I improvise.

***

"How Do You Do: Jak Robi Wy Robi?"

"Jaayak Roobi Wii Rob.."

"Would you like a cup of tea? Bylby Wy Lubicie Filizanke Kawy?"

"Beebee Wi..."

"That's a beautiful dress you're wearing: Który jest Piekne Ubranie Wy Nosicie"

"Waita minute!"

"I enjoy the opera: Ciesze sie Opera"

Laverne yanked the needle away from the phonograph, leaving the translation records to spin in an everlasting circle. One thing was sure in this topsy-turvy world; she still didn't enjoy the opera.

She settled back in her chair, sighing in defeat. She didn't quite feel worthy of the finery she had been clothed in; a dark pink brocade robe with heavy golden embroidery. Awkwardly, she shifted in the golden chair and tried not to rip out the hair extensions, which had been so carefully added to her head an hour ago.

One glance into an ornate mirror hanging across the way made her giggle: with heavy blue eyeshadow and dark red lips (to represent colors that opinion polls told her advisors were 'the most pleasing', according to her citizens'), she looked somewhat trampy. Well, trampier than normal. Her pop would die, when he got there, which probably wouldn't be for another day.

She hoped that those ambassadors found all of this finery more pleasing than she did.

A phone began to ring, and Laverne glanced about the room, trying to locate its source. Finally, she found it: a princess phone, right beside her very ornate bed.

She picked it up, "Hello? Oh, I mean Wyy...It's you, Shirl!" She collapsed onto the bed, mindless of her ringlets, "I thought I was gonna have ta conjugate more verbs!...What? Yeah, it's a real swell joint, ain't it? I never saw so much gold in one place before. Better than the Hotel Pfister! What? Now, Shirl, don't let Veenie jump on the bed; I ain't payin' for it, if it breaks...What? Well, I wish I could come down there, but I gotta pedicure scheduled an' I..." Lenny promptly entered the room, and she burst out laughing.

He pouted, "It ain't funny!" he said, coming closer to her. But she couldn't stop laughing, and Shirley began asking what the matter was on the other end of the phone.

"Nothin', Shirl..I gotta go." Laverne sat back and took a good look at Lenny in that moment; he wore short breeches, powder white, with high boots and a blue vest over a white shirt. He looked like Napoleon's lost cousin.

"Ha ha!" He retorted, reaching over and tugging sharply at one of her extensions. That instantly stopped her laughter. "Ain't so funny now!" He said superiorly, and she rolled her eyes.

"What's goin' on, Len?"

"I was wonderin' if ya maybe wanna go take a ride through town?"

She smiled sweetly, "Len, I wanna take a good look at Kulakowski, but I don't think there's a good way to get out from under all of these folks watchin' us."

He slapped his knees, "That's where I got em!" He headed over to the window, and she followed. Outside, one floor down, there stood a cherry-red motorcycle.

"Do you know howta drive that?" Laverne gaped.

Lenny nodded, "I spent years watchin' Fonzie." He ran off to the closet, pulling two huge, furry overcoats behind him. "Come on!" He said, donning his. When she noticed that the garment completely covered his outfit, she followed suit.

Lenny climbed outside without fear, scaling a trellis like the monkey she'd once accused him of being. When he hit the ground, extending his arms and mouthing, "Jump!," Laverne instead took a wiser route, climbing down with similar ease and planting a noisy kiss upon his lips.

"Thanks," He burbled, and they straddled the bike, taking off down a side road that led to a dirt street.

****

Laverne was silent but appreciative of the beauty of the Baltic Sea. Where they stood, by the Pomeranian Bay, the entire world seemed to slow to a peaceful standstill.

"They told me people fight each other fer a little spot on our beach," Lenny smiled, sunset reflecting in his eyes, "Ya know how old this place is? Goes way back..to the thirteenth century..They said somethin' bout a knight findin' it." He trailed off. Laverne was staring at him raptly.

He swallowed hard, "It ain't as pretty as you, tho."

She smiled, touching his cheek, "I'm starving."

"Me too," He said, his voice all gravel. But then he grabbed her by the hand and tugged her off into the direction of the town, "I heard we can get real good gingerbread here!"

***

The interior of the bakeshop probably hadn't changed in the centuries it had stood; framed stories on the wall spoke of the years they had labored beneath Nazi occupation. A framed picture of a smiling family on the wall, hand-drawn, contained one word in English, scribbled at the foot of the mother: 'freedom'. If Laverne could have read more, she would have been moved to tears.

But her mouth and mind were filled by crumbly gingerbread, served by a smiling woman in a babushka.

"This is real good," she said, swallowing a mouthful of milk, "I ain't had anything this good in awhile."

Lenny smiled rapturously, "Yeah," He agreed shortly. His pleasant mood was cut off by the sudden appearance of a balding, mustachioed man. In rapid Polish, he began excitedly talking to the woman. Her eyes bugged out, and instantly fell to her knees, bowing to Lenny.

Lenny smiled nervously, "My shoe's untied?" He laughed, and instantly the woman began to laugh, too. The man, meanwhile, rushed out the front door and began shouting excitedly in Polish. Suddenly, a rush of humanity filled the shop.

At first, they tried to accommodate their shrieking 'fans'; for the second time in her life, Laverne signed an autograph; then the third, fourth and fifth; by her sixth, on an 'I'm In Love With Laverne' album, she lost count. Lenny smiled sweetly, shaking hands, scrawling his still-childish signature on napkins and scraps of cloth.

When they began ripping Laverne's ringlets out, it was time to escape.

The rapturized storekeeper offered them a way out of the back door, but not before Lenny lost part of his jacket and temporary use of his eyes when a series of flashbulbs exploded in their faces.

They walked back to the government palace, hand in hand, though worried about the approaching darkness. Creeping back up the dirt road, they returned the bike from whence it came (an officer's quarters, to Laverne's horror), and then climbed back up the trellis to Laverne's room.

There they found a small army of soldiers, dressed in Kulakowski colors...and pointing guns straight at them.









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