TITLE: A Fashion Oddessy AUTHOR: Sarah E-MAIL ADDRESS: firstname.lastname@example.org DISTRIBUTION: Badfic archive if you want. RATING: PG CLASSIFICATION: Bad fanfic SUMMARY: Giles goes to the dry-cleaners... DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything but this story. The characters belong to Joss Whedon. It was a crisp December morning. The wind was blowing chills down the spine of Rupert Giles as he slept in his bed. This'll teach me not to sleep with the window open, he said to himself. Rupert got out of bed and immediately marched over to his dressor drawr. He kneeled down on the soft carpet and began rummaging through his clothes. "Hmm", Giles said as his sifted through the drawr. "Tweed. More tweed. I must have forgotten to pick my leather up from the dry-cleaners". And so Giles dressed himself in a tweed jacket and a dressy shirt, and went outside. Halfway out the door, he forgot about his pants. He went inside and put them on and then came back out. But then he forgot about his shoes and had to go back to get those, too. After about fifteen minutes of walking, Giles had reached the dry-cleaners. It was a small, quaint little shop on the edge of Sunnydale. He'd been going there ever since he moved there and was very happy with their service. "Hello", a woman said from behind the counter. She immediately came around to be greated by a warm smile. "Are you here to pick something up?" "Yes", Giles stated. He had never seen this woman before, and was quite nervous about asking her for his dry-cleaning. "Uhm, yes. I, uhm, am I suppose." "What can I get for you?", the woman asked. "I, uhm, dropped off some, uhm, clothing. Yes. I'd like to pick them up." "Okay. Can you tell me what it is?" "They're, uhm, pants. An uhm, er, sleeve-less jacket." Giles stated. He was too embarresed to tell her that he was picking up tight leather pants and a sleeve-less, torn, leather jacket. "Can I have your name please, Sir?" "Name? You want my name?", Giles asked. How can I tell her my name? She'll look at my name and see leather pants, Giles thought. "Yes, Sir. Can I have your name?" "Yes. Uhm, Rupert Giles." he stated. He finally decided to swallow his pride and get his order. After all, he needed his pants. His date with Jenny Calendar was tonight. "Alright. One minute." The lady went in the back and came out with Giles' order. "Here you go". "Uhm, thank you" Giles said as he signed his bill. As he was leaving with his clothing, the woman at the desk started talking to him. "Mr. Giles?" "Yes?" Giles said, turning around. "You're much more of a sexy God in tweed." THE END
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