"Hey, mom." Rory juggled her cell phone as she dug in her pockets for cash.
"Hey. What's shaking, kid?"
"Um, well, nothing, thank goodness. No major fault lines run through New Haven, happily."
"Well, you learn something new about seismology every day."
"That was my motto for a month in 8th grade."
"Yeah, but then I moved on to volcanos." She paid for her latte and darted toward her classroom.
"Ah, yes, I remember that. It was your natural disaster phase."
"Yep. What was I after that?"
"Um ... Emily Dickinson."
"Hope is an earthquake with feathers."
"I'm not sure that's accurate, but points for trying. Hey, listen. Where do I get a tiny listening device."
"Still here. I think you have me confused with your other daughter, Veronica Mars."
"Mom, why would I know anything about bugs?"
"See, you know the right terms for them! Bugs! See, where would I know things like that?"
"Every detective show from the last thirty years?"
"Seriously, you don't know some place I can get a ... whaddaya call it ... a bug in the next two hours?"
A heavy sigh. She was late for class now, and her mother had turned into Inspector Gadget.
"Okay. Lane picked up one this one time to spy on her mom."
"No," Rory continued. "It was just one time. She was convinced it was a defensive move - she thought her mother was secretly eavesdropping on her, and wanted to bug her mother so she could prove it. Still not sure what she would have done with the evidence, it's not like you can bust someone for spying if you're spying on them to find out."
"I think they covered that in the Patriot Act."
"Whatever. Anyway, Lane used it once, heard way too much of her mother singing 'Blessed Assurance" and hid it away. But you know Lane - she never throws anything away if it could be useful somewhere down the line."
"Will she let me borrow it?"
"I'll give her a call," Rory offered.
Lorelai teased,"on your two-way wrist radio!"
"Actually, I'll probably just use the old standby cell phone."
"But I'll tell you it's on my utility belt, if it'll make you feel better."
Lorelai was thinking to herself...
This was so stupid. This was the world-beater of stupid ideas. Lorelai Gilmore, queen of the stupid ideas. Yet here I am, with a bug the size of a bobby pin, preparing to break in on one of her clients so I can plant the stupid thing under his bed.She swallowed hard and then put her ear to the door. Silence.
A client! This was one of her clients. A paying customer that she would be spying on.
No, stop. He wasn't a customer. He was a bad guy. Evil. Eee-ville.
Hey, wait a second.
Cruella DeVille? De-Ville. It's a play on evil! All this time, I thought she was named after a Cadillac.
Okay. Focus. Evil. Bad guy.
Stud bad guy, though.
Who likes to wear his shirts unbuttoned, even in winter. A little eccentric, but with pecs like that, why not show off a little?
So yes, stud bad guy. But still bad. In some vague, undefinable way, he was bad. Like one of those James Bond villains.
What was the name of that one guy? Top Hat. Top Chef? No, that was a cooking show. No, wait, that wasn't a show. That's Iron Chef. But wait, Top Chef is something. What the hell is that? Is that some kind of Hamburger Helper thing?
Let's think. Top Chef.
Odd Job! That was his name!
Top Chef, though. Top Chef. Top Chef.
Mmmmm. Love me some Top Ramen.
Do I have any ramen?
I have spaghetti.
Maybe I could take all the spices and sprinkle a little of everything, all together, and it'll be kinda like one of those spice packets. I mean, who the hell knows what goes in those things, it's just all spices, right? If I just throw them all together, that oughta work.
Stop! Focus! Focus, focus, focus.
And ... now I'm thinking about his bed. And I'm thinking about him laying naked on his bed.
What am I, thirteen?!
Come on, Lor, snap out of it. He's just your average bad guy, an evil man who can't keep his shirt buttoned and who growls alluringly, and you're just going to sneak into his bedroom because you're curious about what he's doing here. You're just curious, that's all. Nothing illegal about being curious. Otherwise that stupid monkey would be in jail, not running around with that idiot in the yellow hat.
No! Focus. Focus, focus, focus...
Monkey. Monkey, monkey, monkey. Focus.
Monkey. Monkey pants. Underpants. Monkey.
I bet he wears briefs.
"Okay," she thought to herself. "Here goes nothing." She slipped her master key into the lock.