Oh, man, I was bored. This is a direct consequence of that boredom. Be afraid. Be very afraid. Oh, and I formated this entirely by hand, for the first time ever.
Disclaimer: Not mine. But they should be, darn it!
Rated: PG. Down right tame.

Fun Like a Root Canal

by ShrinkingViolet

"Fraser? Fraser? Hey, you in der, Frase?"

 (sound of door opening and closing, then of one Chicago detective's hand hitting same Chicago detective's forehead with a great deal of force)

 "Ow! Hey, Fraser, you don't look so good."

"Well."

"Well, what?"

"I don't look so well."

"You said it, Benton-buddy. What's da matter? You sick?"

"Yes, Ray, I believe I am ill."

"Geez, Fraser. Why didn't you say something?"

"I called in sick."

"And didn't da Ice Queen even come and check on you? Dat's cold, man."

"I'll be fine, Ray. It's just a little... a little..."

(Sound of one Canadian Mountie sneezing very loudly)

"God, Frase. I think you just blew away your desk."

"Really?"

"No, I was being sar... sarc... I was joking. You really are sick, aren't ya?"

(Sound of one Mountie being uncarachteristically sarcastic... does that make a sound?)

"No, Ray, I'm just faking it to get out of sentry duty."

(Sound of gears grinding in one Chicago detective's head)

"Frase, being sick really does ugly things to you."

"I'm sorry. I really don't know what came over me. Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to be sick now."

(One hurried lunge for the trashcan, a few disgusting noises later)

"Fraser, next time aim *away* from me, 'kay?"

The End

 This has been ShrinkingViolet, queen of the run-on sentence people, telling you:
A Bored Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste.