Play It Again, Samson

(The Illustrious Crackpot)

A/N: So I was making this wallpaper for LazloXEdward-Club on deviantART. And at the same time, due to my obscure taste in music, I was listening to a Bernadette Peters CD. And one particular lyric in one particular song really caught my attention—I heard it, and I immediately thought "That's Edward." And so I sat down and wrote this first drabble in a collection of multiple Camp Lazlo-related drabbles inspired by song lyrics. They will hopefully focus on a wide variety of characters, and hopefully not all of them will be pairing-oriented, though, considering the fact that a large percentage of all songs are love songs, we shall simply have to wait and see.

Without further ado...

"I never thought I'd break
I never thought you'd make me miss your face
And make me ache
To hear your voice..."
—"I Never Thought I'd Break" (Peter Allen and Dean Pitchford; Bernadette Peters's "Sondheim, Etc., Etc.: The Rest Of It")

Bad Connection

Zelig, Woodrow. Zembrewski, Karen. Zlartifast, Bartimaeus. Zzabakov, Zackary.

Edward tiredly slammed the book shut, shuddering as the resultant tremor made his legs quiver, then slid off his chair and placed it back on the shelf. Three hours gone. Three hours.

And still there was nobody listed in the entire phone book with the first name "Lazlo".

With a sigh, Edward oozed back into his seat, staring dully at the telephone hooked unassumingly on the wall across from him. It had been kind of stupid to look, anyway. He didn't even know the monkey's last name. Besides, the listing would've been under his parents' names, which he also didn't know. But that was, of course, assuming that Lazlo just happened to live in the same county as him. Pah! He probably didn't even live in the same state. He wouldn't even have been surprised if Lazlo didn't even live in the same country.

All of a sudden, the phone rang, and Edward's head shot up, soon followed by the rest of his body as he scrambled out of the chair. Maybe, just maybe—but no, it stopped even before he got halfway across the room. Unwilling to believe it, he just stood there, staring, for a few moments more, a look of unsurpassed longing wavering across his face. Soon enough, though, his brow furrowed in an irritated glower and he slunk back to the chair once more, plunking himself down sullenly.

What was wrong with him, anyway? It had only been one day since he'd returned home from camp, and already that morning he'd woken up imagining that he'd heard Lazlo's voice calling him enthusiastically to breakfast. During his entire trek to the kitchen, he'd kept whirling around defensively, as if sensing the monkey about to pounce on him, only to be greeted with an empty hallway. And now this, jumping to the phone like a lunatic on the off chance that, out of all of the billions of people in the world, he was the one calling.

Edward shifted in his seat, forcefully turning himself so that he was facing away from the telephone. But still, he kept craning his neck around to glance at it, an action he wasn't even really aware of until he started to get an uncomfortable crick, at which point he punched himself in the forehead as punishment. This was beyond ridiculous. It was just lucky for him that he was all alone, with his brothers all in town and his parents still asleep upstairs; that way, he had no witnesses to his insane, ludicrous, stupid behavior.

It wasn't like Lazlo would even know his phone number anyways. Of course he'd asked for it, just as he'd asked for everybody's addresses and phone numbers on the last day of camp, but he'd forcefully brushed Lazlo off, informing him that he'd sooner become pen pals with an axe murderer. And there was no way Lazlo could've gotten that information from anyone else, since he hadn't shared his phone number with anyone, not even the Dungs. The only way Lazlo could've found his number was if he'd stolen Edward's camp registration forms from Lumpus's office, but that place was such a horrendous disaster area that there was simply no way anyone would ever have been able to find one specific piece of paper in there.

And why did he want Lazlo to call, anyway? That was the big question. He hated Lazlo. He'd spent all of his time at Camp Kidney just trying to avoid the darn monkey—not that it'd worked. But now all he wanted was just to see Lazlo's face...hear his voice once more. If only...

The phone rang again.

It rang a second time, and Edward's heart leapt into his throat. But his optimism only lasted for a second. There's no way it's him, he reminded himself sternly, feeling his heart sink back down a little as he did so. Don't go over there. You're NOT gonna answer that phone.

The phone kept ringing. Edward steeled himself.

But then he remembered that the answering machine was broken, and that his parents had told him the night before to listen for any important calls.

The phone just kept ringing, and extremely reluctantly, prepared for a horrendous letdown, Edward strode across the room and removed the receiver. "Hello?" he intoned dully.

"Hi, is this the Peppy Pizza Place?" asked a chipper young voice, speaking so quickly that Edward had no time to answer—not that he could. "Can you get me an extra-large pineapple pizza with pepperoni, olives, and—"

"LAZLO?" Edward gasped.

There was a short pause, filled only by bursts of static, then followed by a cry of pure, unadulterated joy. "EDWARD? Edward, izzat you?" The monkey laughed, a sound that made Edward think of liquid sunshine, and unbiddenly his knees began knocking against each other. "Wow, talk about wrong numbers!"

His voice was quivering, his hands were shaking, his tail was whipping from side to side like a happy dog's. "I—I—I've been waiting all morning for you to call!" Edward blurted out before he could stop himself.

Lazlo's tone was one of amazement, but still the delight never left it. "You were? Really? You really mean it, Edward? You wanted me to call you?"

Edward nodded vigorously, momentarily forgetting that Lazlo couldn't see him do so. Then, mortified, he reigned himself in, and when next he spoke, it was in a much calmer voice. "Yeah, Lazlo...yeah, I have," he responded simply. "So I could do THIS!"

And with a slam! he hung up.

With that he fell backwards against the wall, leaning heavily against it, panting and sweating, but with a small smile curved up at the edge of his bill. And just as he'd expected, mere seconds later the phone rang again. Edward just closed his eyes, grin widening as he let the phone go for a few more moments, savoring the anticipation of hearing those sweet tones once more.