Pretty Paper
Part Two
By Missy

SERIES: Pretty Paper
PART: 2 of ??
RATING: PG-13 (Adult themes and materials)
PAIRING(s): Rhonda/Squiggy; Lenny/Laverne; Eddie Izzard/Shirley (Hold the questions a bit, just hold onto them ;-)
DISTRIBUTION: To LW, Kai, Myself and FG so far; any other archives are welcome to ask, 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!
CATEGORY: Drama
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SETTING IN TIMELINE: Post-Playing The Roxie. AU cannon after that.
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Squiggy's Lodge gives him a birthday gift that he'll never forget, while Laverne and Lenny meet a man whose unusual behavior makes an impression on Shirley.
NOTES: Started a week before Chesyre's birthday. Squiggy as a hero is so rarely done.

The idea of strippers being raffled off to members of a lodge or fraternity is possibly an urban legend, but I got it from the painfully antiquated "Things You Always Wanted To Know About Sex But Were Afraid to Ask". Be happy I edited out the part about the donkey ;-)


Eddie Izzard is a cross-dressing British comedian. I am not transporting him to the '50's through some magical timewarp, nor is the overtly AU or Magicfic. Instead I've composited a lot of Eddie's RL behavior and attitudes and stuff from his routines and placed him within the '50's backdrop of repressive Milwaukee. So it's sort of RP AU fic. No snideness. Send me questions if you have them. In the words of Mister Izzard: "Good, I hope you're coming along with this".

This fic was beta-tested by Ande, for your protection!

***

For Cheshyre,
On the occasion of her birthday,
For forgiving me for starting that whole Matt/Jeff Hardy incest ball rolling.

****

Shirley Feeney, staring down a picture of Carmine Ragusa, could only do what most ex-girlfriends in her position would do: release a big, Olive-Oyl-esque, cartoonish sob.

She had saved herself for so long, for so many months! Only to have him toss away their love for a cold-water walk-up in New York.

To Shirley, this was tatramount to having her heart physically ripped out of her chest. Her dismay was dramatic and loud and had resulted in a trip as far away as she could run: to California, to her mother's place. But a weekend was all she could afford and, not wanting to live off of "Barb's" charity, Shirley had returned home on a Sunday.

She blotted a few more tears from her swollen eyes before straightening her shoulders, then stuffing the snapshot back into her bag. As she walked up the stony steps to her building, Shirley supposed that life would just have to go on. Carmine hadn't promised her a future, but it was implied that he would always be there for her. She dragged her suitcase down the basement steps until she saw her front door.

Peace and quiet, at long last!

"...And the priest says 'that's not my coronet!'"

Laverne's nasal laugh rang through the apartment as Shirley turned the lock, accompanied by the loud chuckling of Leonard Kosnowski. But there was an alien, mild laughter that followed. Shirley shoved through the front door and was momentarily floored by the sight before her.

Laverne was already in a defensive position, holding paper plates filled with pizza as she was. "I can explain, Shirl," she began. "I don't know what you're thinking, but..."

Shirley's thoughts had, in irony, reflected Lenny's own at first meeting the mysterious creature. Who was he, and what planet had he come from? He had the face of a boy but his hair cut fashionably in the style of Gina Lolobrigida, and dyed a shade of red that nature had never seen, only fans of Rita Hayworth. It looked as though he had been wearing some sort of makeup, but most of it was faded, as though it had been washed away, especially the area around a large bandage, which contained a dark patch of dried blood beneath. He sat, cross-legged, next to Lenny, in a white shirt and black pants that were clearly a man's, but red flat shoes that were encrusted in glittering sequins. After a long bus ride, Shirley wondered if she was just imagining the person before her.

She gathered her wits enough to brush past Laverne and offer a hand. "How do you do? My name is Shirley Feeney."

"Enchante." He remarked, taking her fingers delicately into palm. She was surprised by his solid handshake. "My name is Edward."

"Enchante...is that French?"

He nodded. "I like languages, and I see that you've been on a trip yourself. Would you like my seat? I need to be getting back to my hotel."

"Oh no, not at all! I'm sure Leonard will give me his seat." Her expression told Lenny that he had better do just that, so he shifted off of the couch and onto the floor, where he propped his elbow against the coffee table and watched. "So, Edward; how do you know Laverne?"

"That's a fine question. I know Lenny and Laverne both. We met at The Crow's Nest last night. She was trying to avoid a sailor, and, being one myself, I know the proper distraction techniques."

"Oh?"

"Kick to the bollocks." He said, with a wise smile. "But the other bloke gave me quite a clout to the head. Laverne was kind enough to bring me here and let me nurse my wounds."

The only word Shirley seemed to foccus in on in this great tale was 'sailor,' and she seemed disappointed by it. "You're in the service."

"Yup. The official title is Second-class seaman Izzard, but that's far too formal for a fellow like moi." He shrugged. "Call me Eddie."

"All right Eddie." Shirley said, thoughtfully. "My father was a sailor. Have you ever met him?" Her voice took on a sudden enthusiasm. "His name is Jack Feeney..."

"Oh, I'm afraid not. I'm with the Royal Navy. English, if you couldn't tell by my voice, and we don't do much intermixing. I'm here on leave." He explained.

"I...see." The words came bitterly from her lips. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"Yes, I do; a room at the Pfister."

Laverne and Lenny exchanged looks. At this point they couldn't quite tell if their friend was lying; they were only fairly sure that he truly was with the Royal Navy. His being stateside made sense, what with it being Fleet Week.

Shirley stood up, suddenly. "Laverne, I'm going to get ready for bed. I've been on a very long trip..."

"Where?" Eddie wondered, lacidasically.

"To California, to see my mother." The word 'California' brought as much brightness to Eddie's eyes as he had brought dimness to hers by mentioning the Navy. Shirley didn't notice. "I'm sure you can get rid of Lenny on your own. Eddie, it was very nice meeting you."

"Likewise. I'll see you again sometime, I'm sure; your friends have promised to show me the city."

"Yeah, not that Milwaukee's that exciting." Laverne said, her smile a little too wide and cheerful. Shirley's expression showed confusion, the sort that would require a talk when they were alone. Shirley said her 'goodnights' and the three watched her disappear into the bedroom.

When Laverne felt sure that her best friend was out of earshot, she gave Eddie a good, hard smack to the back of the neck.

He held his neck, scowling at her, though some part of him felt honored to be treated in the same way she treated Lenny and that other fellow, whom he'd seen only briefly. "Would you mind telling me what that was for?"

"What were ya doing, lying to Shirl?" Laverne frowned. "We don't keep secrets, cause when we do they end up turning into big problems!"

"Come off it, Laverne! I barely lied to the girl."

"Uh, not to poke my nose in, but that was a real big lie about you saving Vernie from her date."

Eddie frowned, knowing that it was pointless lying to the two of them. "There isn't any good way to make introductions using a truth such as this: 'hello, my name is Eddie. I'm here nursing away a concussion because your friend found me passed out in a gutter after I found myself in a fist-fight with a marine, who happened to call me a faggot because I walked into a bar downtown with magnificently-applied eye shadow.'"

Laverne shrugged in Lenny's direction, then sat down with her sandwich. "He makes sense, Len."

"As much as I get, yeah."

"And I do have a room; not at the Pfister, I'm afraid. But I should check into it, considering that the place has been empty for a day." He picked up his jacket, then slung it over his shoulder. "I'm going to hold you to that tour, Laverne."

"But I gotta work tomorrow!" She protested.

"Do you really think the Shotz people will miss you for a day?"

"Me, yeah..." A smile crossed her lips. "But Shirley..."

"Shirley." Eddie smiled again. It wasn't really wolfish, but sort of wistful instead. "You must tell me more about her tomorrow. She's a lovely girl."

"She can do that herself. Bye, Eddie." Laverne watched the guy leave, then finishes her sandwich. "She needs a guy like Eddie, after Carmine."

Lenny nodded. "What he did to her was real dirty, throwing her over with just a note."

"Yeah, I know. Come on, Len; I gotta get up early." She was exhausted from nursing Eddie for most of the day, though in truth he was a lively and witty guy.

"Oh yeah." He springs to his feet. "Yeah, I gotta get up early too, ya know; I got another delivery to Kenosha." He straightened his spine and rocked on his heels; Laverne was touched. He was clearly trying to impress her. Funny how she noticed it, this time.

"Go to bed, Len." She urged gently. She couldn't stop her hand from petting his cheek as he stood before her.

But she still closed the door in his face.

***

Lenny took a long time in getting back to his apartment. When he closed his eyes, he could still feel Laverne's palm pressing to his cheek. He was so used to those hands hitting and shoving him that a gentle touch felt bizarre.

He rubbed the spot, wanting to preserve her touch. He needed a happy memory, now and again.

Especially when he opened the door.

"Geez! Ya didn't put a sock on the door, Squig!" He covered his eyes, afraid he would see something more explicit than a blonde, huddled beneath his covers.

"Ya dummy! I ain't doin' nothing to her!"

"Really?"

"Uh huh."

"Then what's goin' on?"

Squiggy pried Lenny's hands away from his face. "She's what's happenin'. Her name's Rhonda Lee."

"Is that a stage name?"

The lump in his bunk sighed.

"I dunno, but that ain't what I'm saying. She's in trouble..."

"You gonna marry her? Squig, I'm proud of ya!"

"No!! She's a lady of the late afternoon! She's a soiled pigeon."

"I'm a prostitute." The word came, flatly, from his bunk.

"What she said."

"Squig!" Lenny smacked his friend lightly. "What're ya doin', buyin' ladies?!"

"I didn't buy her! The bass bough her for me! And it just so happens that I ain't gonna do nothin' to her. We're gonna do somethin' for her. We're gonna get her help."

"Oh yeah? How?"

"Don't ask me, ya dope. That's what we're gonna ask Laverne and Shirley about tomorrow at work. And what're ya doin', hittin' me?! Try it again, and I'll put my fist right through those big teeth 'a yours!"

"Oh, brother." Remarked Rhonda from her mattress. She had already levered herself up on an elbow to watch the two strange figures in front of her.

"Okay, okay Squig. Don't go hittin' me or nothing..."

"Yeah, yeah..." Squiggy remarked. He tucked his nightcap down around his ears. "I'm takin' the top bunk."

Lenny shrugged, then smiled brightly. "Okay! I'll take the floor!" He grabbed a blanket and then hit the lights.

Rhonda opened her mouth to protest the situation, for Lenny seemed like a nice boy, one that didn't deserve to sleep on the floor. In the one full day she had known Squiggy, she had decided that he was a nice enough boy, as well. Why couldn't there be three mattresses, She mourned.

Then she heard the springs above her squeak as Squiggy rolled over in the bed. The room was filled with snoring, a bizarre melody that wooed her to a peaceful sleep.




TBC

Chapter 1
Chapter 3