Disclaimer: I own neither Flashpoint, nor the characters involved. They belong to Pink Sky and CTV television. I make no money from these works, they are for entertainment purposes only.
Title: " Universal Knowledge: A series of Dewey Drabbles "
Character: Multiple, but Spike focused.
Word Count: 1,000 (not including section titles) – 10x100.
Rating: PG (language) if even really that strong. I'm simply erring on the side of caution.
Spoilers: Minor Spoilers for a bit of dialogue in 2.07 "Clean Hands". Bonus points to anyone who actually catches it.
Credits: Thank you rinkle and Cate for the beta work.
No, I Will Not Fix Your Computer
"C'mon, Spike. Ten minutes of your time. I'll buy you lunch," Ed pleaded. Badly.
"Cut you a pass on the monthly cleaning."
"No." Spike didn't look up from his magazine.
"C'mon. Who's always standing up for you?"
"You are, Ed. And no."
"I am your commanding officer." Now he was reaching.
"I believe that would be Sergeant Parker. No."
"No. And that's disturbing coming from you."
"Don't make me beg."
"You mean you're not already?" Dangerous ground, but he was safe.
The Universe is a Figment of Its Own Imagination
"Realistically? It's just incredibly wishful thinking." Spike read each document carefully before signing. Greg had little doubt the man knew exactly what he was doing, even if the thought process made no sense to the average human mind. "It's also heavy, uncomfortable, binding in the worst places and it takes up too much room in the truck."
"That suit's safety gear. Like your vest."
"Kevlar can actually stop the penetration of a bullet." Spike initialled another line, formally absolving the Metropolitan Police from damages for his failure to employ false hope.
"You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles."
"Hush." Spike stared at the construction in front of him. There was a way to do this. It was all about friction, and load-bearing objects. People never looked at how things were put together.
"Come on," a small voice whined. "You're taking forever."
"Patience is a virtue," Spike intoned.
"That's not what you said when you sneaked Grandma's cookies."
Spike prayed. Hard. Don't let her hear.. His hand slipped and the wooden blocks crashed down. God wasn't on his side for this one.
"Hi Grandma. Uncle Mike, you're in BIG trouble."
"Honesty is the best policy, but Insanity is a better defence."
"It wasn't me!" Spike threw up his hands in a demonstration of his innocence, so fervent it had to be false.
"Spike…" Ed shook green slime from his fingers as it dripped down his head and over his shoulders.
"I swear." He looked like he was about to cry. "Someone's being framed."
"Who would frame you?" Greg crossed his arms, looking disappointed at the miscreant behaviour.
"Someone nobody would suspect." Spike stated the obvious, looking at Jules. The others did, too.
Nobody suspected. After all, he wouldn't frame himself.
"ur doin it wrong"
Spike's eyes widened. He knew a lot of words in more than a couple of languages, but some of the ones Ed came up with were entirely new. He glanced at the wall. Paint was definitely peeling off it. Little bits still vibrated, agitated from the force of a quickly slamming door. On the other side something howled, repeatedly throwing itself against the flimsy particleboard panels.
"What in the hell?" Spike didn't dare speak too loudly.
Ed ran a gloved hand across his face, radiating panic. He aimed his weapon low. "Cat."
"Very mean cat."
"It's a simple question of weight ratios! A five ounce bird could not carry a one pound coconut."
Spike ground his teeth. He wasn't going to say it, he wasn't going to say…
"Go ahead and say it," Greg spoke softly, so as not to disturb the instructor. "I know it's driving you crazy."
"It's not the voltage that kills you." He hated industrial safety refresher courses. He could teach this one. "It's the current. You can take a thousand static volts, and it'll just make your hair stand on end."
"No practical demonstrations." Greg smiled grimly. "Despite the temptation."
Make it idiot-proof, and someone will make a better idiot.
He hadn't thought it possible. He thought Ed was bad. That he chalked up to age, but this…
"I'm sorry." Sam smartly stayed out of strangulation range.
"Sorry won't cut it." Spike stared at the carnage. It was horrific.
"It got wet. I thought if I took it apart, it would dry better."
"Sam, that's simple things. Knives, guns, cell-phones… things you can put back together again."
"So you can't?" Sam's face fell, completely. This had been his last hope.
Spike shook his head. "Jules is going to kill you…"
"COFFEE.EXE Missing - Insert Cup and Press Any Key"
Lew checked his watch. Spike was late. He didn't want to ring the doorbell. It was six a.m. Spike's parents were probably still sleeping. But Lew's baseball team needed one more guy for this tourney or they'd default. Spike had agreed. He just had to show up.
He tried the handle and found it unlocked. He walked quietly down the hall to the kitchen.
Spike stood staring at an appliance on the counter. Without coffee, he couldn't figure out how to make coffee.
Lew sighed. "There's a Tims on the way."
"Real Programmers Don't Document - If it was hard to write, it should be hard to understand."
"Anything you can find. Notes, diagrams…"
"Just a lot of empty pizza boxes." Ed sounded frustrated. Of course he was. He liked to accomplish things. Save the world, rescue the princess.
"Anything on them? Numbers, letters, doodles?"
"Grease. Anchovy. Pineapple."
"A sick mind," Spike opined. "I already knew that."
"Only other thing is a short story collection. Chekhov."
"Anton Chekhov? Just Chekhov?" Spike shuddered at the thought. It explained it all. "No wonder he wanted to blow shit up."
"I would love to change the world, but they won't give me the source code."
"I told you, Spike. You can't get there from here." Lew gestured out the front window, unsympathetically.
"I could," Spike muttered.
"Without blowing up a major landmark." The nice thing about Lew was that he didn't need things over-explained. He knew who he was dealing with.
"Some judicious use of applied explosives," Spike grumbled. "Nobody ever lets me do things my way."
"There's a reason for that." Lew slipped the transmission into reverse.
Spike sulked. It was just a grocery store. "Some friend you are."