illustration by Lovin' James T.
A manicure. I can do a manicure. We can do a manicure. Yes we
can.
author's note: As always, because I'm lazy. Very lazy. It will (hopefully)
be all dialogue. Or almost all dialogue. Because, as stated, I'm
lazy.
A row of little bottles with different coloured contents sit on a
table. Various dangerous looking tools, a flat-ish thing. A pair
of small scissors. A... thing. They lay together on the table. An
eyebrow is raised.
"A what, precisely?"
"A manicure Spock."
"A 'manicure'."
"Yes. A manicure."
"What is a manicure?"
"...I'm going to paint your fingernails."
The other eyebrow follows its partner into the hairline. They're
hidden--what do hidden eyebrows do while they're being hidden?
"My fingernails?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because... because they'll look nice."
"Look nice."
"Yes, they'll be astetically pleasing."
"Ahh."
"And it would make me happy."
A small sigh of defeat and a Vulcan sits on a chair near the
table.
"If it would make you happy."
"Oh, it would. Now what colur would you like them?"
"Colour?"
"Yes, for your nails. I have... red, pink, green, blue,
silver, clear and black."
pause... "Green."
"Green?"
"Yes. Green."
Ten innocent fingernails turn green in a few moments, much to the
pleasure of the manicurist. There is a kiss as a reward. Patience
is a virtue.
"Green."
A while later, on the bridge--
Ten green fingernails brush over controls, change settings, and
various other things. They catch attention, they sparkle. They're
pretty. Very pretty. Very, very pretty. Ver-no. Stop there.
They are being not-so-subtly admired from not-too-afar.
"Mr. Spock?"
"Yes, Captain?"
"You will report to my quarters after shift, I'm doing your
toenails."
"Yes, Captain."