========================================================================= Date: Mon, 11 Mar 1996 11:37:00 PST Reply-To: Mike Goldman Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Mike Goldman Subject: "Scavenger Hunt" (3/11)--HL Story "OK, what's next on the list?" Duncan asked, trying not to think *too* much about the hot dog. Rory consulted the paper. "Some pink toilet paper." "I think I know where we can find some." Rory raised her eyebrows but said nothing as Macleod headed towards Seacouver's "Restaurant Row". Catching her look, he replied, "It's *not* what you think." "Wasn't thinkin' a thing, darlin'." Rory responded airily. Shortly, they were backing into a parking space at what was obviously a very elegant restaurant. "Why are we here?" Rory asked. "Tessa and I used to come here." Mac explained, "She told me the women's bathroom is all pink." "Great." Rory enthused, leaning back in her seat and shutting her eyes. "Wake me up when you get back." "Excuse me?" he said, tilting his head as if he hadn't heard correctly. Rory kept her eyes shut and spoke as if to a small child. "*I* got the flyswatter, Macleod, it's your turn." Mac looked at her but Rory gave no indication of moving anytime soon. Muttering to himself about the capriciousness of the Irish, he got out of the covertible, slamming the door a little harder than necessary. "Don't take too long, Macleod." she advised, settling down farther in her seat and wrapping her coat around her. Duncan stalked into the restaurant, trenchcoat flapping behind him. He made his way towards the restroom only to be stopped by the maitre'd next to his podium. "Do you have a reservation, sir?" he asked, peering at the Immortal with beady eyes and stroking his sparse mustache. "Um, no." Duncan answered, wondering exactly what rock this officious little man had crawled out from under. "I just needed to use the restroom." "I'm so sorry," said the maitre'd, sounding anything but, "Unless you have a reservation, we cannot allow you into the restaurant." "You're kidding." "Would you care to make a reservation, sir?" the maitre'd asked in tones that suggested anyone who didn't would be a total boor. "Fine." Duncan responded shortly. "When's your next available?" The maitre'd scampered back to his podium and ostentatiously turned the pages of his reservation book. "Next Tuesday." he announced as reverently as if he was announcing the Second Coming. "Next --?" Mac rubbed his eyes. The things he went through for friends. "Macleod." he said shortly. The maitre'd wrote it down in his book and then, with a flourish, waved a hand towards the restrooms. Mac stalked to the men's room and had the door half open before he remembered he actually needed the *women's* restroom. The men's room attendant looked at him curiously as he cursed and let the door close. Taking a deep breath, he spun to his left and cautiously opened the door to the women's bathroom. The little blue-haired lady dressed in the pink attendant's smock looked up in fright as he took stock of the pink-gone-rampant theme. "Excuse me," he said, trying his best "I'm-not-a-registered-sex-offender" smile, "I was wondering if you would be so kind as to hand me some toilet paper?" "You horrible man!" was the woman's quavering response. "Get out of here before I call the manager!" She heaved herself up out of her chair and grabbed the broom behind her, brandishing it as if it were Excalibur and the fluorescent light shining off her name badge and wedding ring was the summons from God to drive out the infidel. Duncan jumped back slightly as she blindly waved the broom at him. "No, really, ma'am --" "Get out, you pervert!" she squeaked. As the door slammed shut, Duncan jumped back again--straight into the well-dressed couple behind him. He smiled weakly at their horrified looks. "Looking for my wife," he said lamely, pointing to the bathroom, "You know how women are..." His voice trailed off as they gave him an icy look and disappeared into their respective restrooms. he thought, . The thought of having to look at the smirk on her face for the rest of the scavenger hunt drove him to think of a plan. Positioning himself at the payphone next to the restrooms, he studiously buried his face in the phone book until the frigid couple departed, then depositing his quarter, he called the front desk. "Hello?" came the ubiquitous voice of the maitre'd. "Yes," said Duncan, pinching his nose and trying to make his voice higher. "This is Mrs. Johnson's husband. Can I speak to her, please?" "Just a moment." Dimly, Mac heard an in-house phone ring and, seconds later, the women's room attendant toddled on by as he once again studied the phone book intently. . Taking one last look to verify the coast was clear, he gently hung up the phone and slipped into the women's bathroom. Going to the first stall, he was dismayed to find it out of toilet paper. Same with the second, third and fourth. "Hope Mrs. Johnson isn't expecting a raise this year." he said to himself as he ducked into the fifth and last stall. "Eureka!" he shouted, grabbing a length of the paper and stuffing it into his coat pocket. As he turned to leave the stall, he happened to glance in the mirror and saw the restroom door opening. . Thinking quickly, he pulled the door of the stall shut and jumped up onto the toilet bowl like a bird on its perch. He could hear someone in the room, but there wasn't enough space between the wall and door of the stall to see who it was. Bending himself nearly double, he looked out the bottom of the stall door to see a pair of orthopedic lace-ups shuffle back to the chair by the sinks and sit back down. , Mac thought, . Resolving that there was nowhere to go but up, he stepped off the toilet and out of the stall. Mrs. Johnson gasped, hand to her heart, and began fumbling for the broom again. Duncan kept an eye on her as he warily sidestepped her and made for the door. "Y'know," he tried to say casually, "you're out of paper in the first four stalls", then dashed out as she swung the broom, quickly moving down the hall. Walking quickly out of the restaurant and into the parking lot, he saw Rory apparently comfortably asleep in the passenger seat. Vaulting into the driver's side, he stuck the key in the ignition and revved the engine, jolting her awake. "Huh? Wha--?" She rubbed her eyes. "Geez, Macleod, what took you so long?" "Had to come up with an alternate plan." he said shortly, backing out of the parking space. Rory shrugged and turned around to grab her seatbelt. As she did so, she caught a glimpse of the maitre'd and Mrs. Johnson coming out of the restaurant, Mrs. Johnson still brandishing the broom. "Uh-huh." she said, as Mac checked his rearview mirror and saw her as well. Flushing, he yanked the toilet paper out of his pocket. "Here." he said, rudely shoving it at her. "Not sayin' a word, Macleod," she said as she tucked the paper underneath the seat and they sped into the night, . Next, the tables are turned....