Title: Diversions
Author:  Angel Grace
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Brief reference to the season 1 episode "The Third Lorelai."
Summary: Written for Improv #4: decadent, roue, turbulent, yonder. Louise attempts to lure Paris into a day of relaxation.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted here are the property of Amy Sherman-Palladino, Dorothy Parker Drank Here, and Hofflund-Pollone. They are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from their use.

"Come on, Paris, it'll be fun. You do know what fun is, don't you?" Louise Grant's voice somehow managed to be simultaneously condescending and cajoling.

"Fun is not wasting an entire day at some idiotic spa. Fun is not being wrapped in mud when I should be studying for my history final. Fun is continuing to get straight A's on my report card and being named valedictorian in two years."

Louise sighed in exasperation. "You really need to learn how to relax. Besides, you could probably stand on your head and juggle pineapples during the final and still get an A. No one can touch you."

Paris' eyes narrowed. "Rory Gilmore can."

"This obsession with beating Rory is starting to interfere with your daily life. You know that, don't you? As mildly amusing as your turbulent relationship with her was, it's gotten old now. Move on. No one else cares."

"Your support is overwhelming," Paris snapped.

"You're the one who says tact is overrated and honesty is best."

"Since when do you listen to me?"

"Since I discovered that using your arguments against you makes steam come out of your ears. It's almost as entertaining as trying to keep track of Tristan's latest conquests."

Paris scowled darkly. "Tristan is a pathetic roué who has the self-control of a rabbit in heat, and apparently lacks the common sense to realize that Rory's innocent, small-town, pure-as-the-damn-driven-snow act is just that --- an act."

"Whoa. I guess I don't need to ask if you're still upset that she asked him to take you on a pity date."

The other girl simply glared. "Have fun at the spa, Louise." Then she turned and stomped down the hallway.

Louise had to suppress a giggle as she noted the angry swish of Paris' hips. It really way getting too easy to push her buttons. So easy, in fact, that it almost wasn't fun anymore. As she watched Paris nearly KO a hapless freshman who stepped in her path, Louise decided it was still a little fun.

The following day found Louise and Madeline comfortably wrapped in fluffy terry-cloth robes, their faces plastered with green mud masks, and cucumber slices on their eyes as pedicurists painted their toenails.

"This is delightfully decadent," Louise murmured.

"Mm-hmm," mumbled Madeline. "I'm kind of glad Paris didn't come. It's more relaxing this way."

"Amen to that. That girl is going to have gray hair by the time she's twenty."

"I worry about her. Sometimes I think her sanity is going to fly off into the wild blue yonder."

"Hon, I'm pretty sure it's already gone."

Madeline, however, wasn't listening. She had gone off on yet another Madeline-tangent. "You know, I always used to wonder where 'yonder' was. I mean, I would hear that song, and I would think it was a real place. You know? Of course, when we would go to church, I also thought that 'hosanna' was some kind of lasagna. My mom wasn't too thrilled when I asked the priest for some hosanna at the potluck dinner. And what does potluck mean? Is it something to do with the fact that you're lucky if you can find anything edible at those things? My mom would always have our cook make something. Otherwise she probably would have poisoned the whole congregation."

"Madeline?" Louise cut in.

"Yeah?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh! Um, I don't know."

"I didn't think so. How about you not talk about it anymore?"

"Okay. Hey, did you see who Tristan was mauling against the lockers yesterday?"

"Do tell..."

As Madeline recounted the tawdry tale, Louise leaned over eagerly. It was Saturday, they were at a spa, and all was right with the world.