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Merlin: It's Pronounced Woostah
It's Pronounced Woostah
Merlin. PG13. 485 words. Merlin, Will, Gwen, and Morgana on a road trip making a stop in Worcester, Massachusetts. Also written for the take your fandom home with you minifest.
The thing about Worcester is that, to get to the heart of it, you can't rely on what the tourist brochures are pushing. Sure, you can say that about all places, but Worcester especially, because it's the armpit of Massachusetts. ("Don't give me that look," Morgana says. "Even the locals call it that.") They hit up the art museum and the Ecotarium, which were cool-I-guess, and then they visited the Higgins Armory Museum, which at least excited Gwen and Morgana, who began to talk shop about weaponry. Merlin and Will were mostly just bored and making length-of-my-sword jokes.
When Morgana gets a craving for strawberries, she makes Merlin find a Price Chopper and they all get a little quiet driving through the Main South neighborhood, watching the scenery (lack thereof) outside the window.
"Are those factories still working?" Morgana wonders.
"I hope not," says Will.
The factories, made with red brick and industrial optimism, are in a state of disrepair, abandoned. Windows are smashed, graffiti is rampant. ("Are," Will corrects. "Graffiti are rampant. 'Graffiti' is plural, 'graffito' is singular." Morgana replies, "Shut it, you.") The paper industry was the lifeblood of Worcester in the nineteenth century, Gwen tells them. (She is the only one who read the guidebook.) When the manufacturing moved south, the city collapsed, and even now it's still recovering from the blow to their economy.
"But it's getting better," she says. "They say in ten years Worcester will be like Providence."
Will says, "What, run by the mob?"
They don't stay very long in Worcester. The bars are nice enough, but it seems like if they're not overflowing with screechy uni students, they're peopled by dodgy-looking fuckers. "There has to be something else we can look at while we're here," Gwen says worriedly, looking through the guidebook. And there are; it's just that with Worcester, you have to look a little harder.
The last thing they do in the city is make a stop at the Worcester Common to take a photo with the turtle-fucker statue, because Will insisted.
"Say goodbye to Worcester, folks," Merlin says as he drives towards the highway, and everyone goes, "Byyyyeee."
Once on I-90, Will, who is sitting in the back with Gwen, takes something out of his wallet and says, "Morgana, can I borrow your lighter?"
Merlin glances at the rearview mirror. "What have you got there?"
"A little pick-me-up for us all." Will, not without a hint of pride, holds it up for all to see: a joint.
Gwen says in wonderment, "Is that a--"
"Where'd you get that?" Morgana demands, but she is grinning as she hands her lighter to him.
"One of the Clark students we met at the Blarney Stone," he replies. "I have half an eighth in my bag."
"You cheeky bastard!" she crows cheerfully.
Will smiles. "Yeah, you're welcome. Windows up, guys, and turn up the music."
Merlin. PG13. 485 words. Merlin, Will, Gwen, and Morgana on a road trip making a stop in Worcester, Massachusetts. Also written for the take your fandom home with you minifest.
The thing about Worcester is that, to get to the heart of it, you can't rely on what the tourist brochures are pushing. Sure, you can say that about all places, but Worcester especially, because it's the armpit of Massachusetts. ("Don't give me that look," Morgana says. "Even the locals call it that.") They hit up the art museum and the Ecotarium, which were cool-I-guess, and then they visited the Higgins Armory Museum, which at least excited Gwen and Morgana, who began to talk shop about weaponry. Merlin and Will were mostly just bored and making length-of-my-sword jokes.
When Morgana gets a craving for strawberries, she makes Merlin find a Price Chopper and they all get a little quiet driving through the Main South neighborhood, watching the scenery (lack thereof) outside the window.
"Are those factories still working?" Morgana wonders.
"I hope not," says Will.
The factories, made with red brick and industrial optimism, are in a state of disrepair, abandoned. Windows are smashed, graffiti is rampant. ("Are," Will corrects. "Graffiti are rampant. 'Graffiti' is plural, 'graffito' is singular." Morgana replies, "Shut it, you.") The paper industry was the lifeblood of Worcester in the nineteenth century, Gwen tells them. (She is the only one who read the guidebook.) When the manufacturing moved south, the city collapsed, and even now it's still recovering from the blow to their economy.
"But it's getting better," she says. "They say in ten years Worcester will be like Providence."
Will says, "What, run by the mob?"
They don't stay very long in Worcester. The bars are nice enough, but it seems like if they're not overflowing with screechy uni students, they're peopled by dodgy-looking fuckers. "There has to be something else we can look at while we're here," Gwen says worriedly, looking through the guidebook. And there are; it's just that with Worcester, you have to look a little harder.
The last thing they do in the city is make a stop at the Worcester Common to take a photo with the turtle-fucker statue, because Will insisted.
"Say goodbye to Worcester, folks," Merlin says as he drives towards the highway, and everyone goes, "Byyyyeee."
Once on I-90, Will, who is sitting in the back with Gwen, takes something out of his wallet and says, "Morgana, can I borrow your lighter?"
Merlin glances at the rearview mirror. "What have you got there?"
"A little pick-me-up for us all." Will, not without a hint of pride, holds it up for all to see: a joint.
Gwen says in wonderment, "Is that a--"
"Where'd you get that?" Morgana demands, but she is grinning as she hands her lighter to him.
"One of the Clark students we met at the Blarney Stone," he replies. "I have half an eighth in my bag."
"You cheeky bastard!" she crows cheerfully.
Will smiles. "Yeah, you're welcome. Windows up, guys, and turn up the music."