Warning: This mini fic (and I use that term very loosely) is the result of too much pre-workout Fruit Punch Powder.
Also Completely I beta-ed
Summary: Emma has a bottle of Jack and a new cellphone and by god, she's going to utilize them.
Madame Fancy-Pants: Who is this?
867-5309: You were wonderful last night
Madame Fancy-Pants: Ew.
867-5309: Lol kidding! It's Emma.
867-5309: Emma "The Savior" Swan
867-5309: code name "Miss Swan"
Madame Fancy-Pants: It's the middle of the night. What do you want?
Idiot #3: I want a lot of things.
Idiot #3: Highspeed Internet
Idiot #3: World Peace.
Idiot #3: 5 more seasons of Firefly
MFP: fireflies? You're being oddly philosophical tonight. Alright, I'll play along. Summer is firefly season. You want 5 more summers?
MFP: Are you dying?
Emma: ARE YOU JOKING!?
Emma "Still an Idiot" Swan: No, sorry, no I'm not dying! Ummm Firefly was a TV show. A good one.
Regina "Pretends Not To Care" Mills: one moment, please.
Regina: I asked The Google about your show, it says you're a huge nerd.
Emma: says someone who calls it "The Google"
Regina: Space Cowboys, Miss Swan?
Emma: I'm cool, I fight dragons! I wield a sword.
Regina: You fought ONE dragon. Also, cool people don't say the word "wield".
Emma: Yeah, one DRAGON! And I survived!
Emma: I'm cool.
Regina: You keep telling yourself that, I'm going to bedclothes.
Emma: oh! So close! Number 42, Regina Mills, attempts the 'suave and aloof' exit. Fumbles, drops the ball. Fans are on their knees. Riots in the streets!
Regina: obviously, I meant to say "bed" Miss Reading Comprehension Skills. It autocorrected.
Emma: how is the word 'bedclothes' even in your autocorrect dictionary? How often do you type out the word 'bedclothes'?
Regina: Goodnight, Miss Swan!
Emma: wait! Wait okay, all jokes aside, I did have a reason for texting you.
Regina: and that reason is?
Emma: it's just that you're so distracting.
Emma: you distract me.
Regina: can't talk. I died of suspense waiting for you to GET TO THE POINT
Emma: sorry, gathering my thoughts.
Regina: rigor mortis is setting in
Emma: how am I supposed to tell Henry you're dead? Oh, Miss Mills you shall be missed.
Emma: woah, I've never called you that before. Miss Mills... Makes me want to put on high heels and carry a ruler.
Regina: I can smell the alcohol on your breath from across town. Don't you dare even think about driving yourself home, Emma.
Emma: my level of intoxication right now is not important.
Regina: and why not?
Emma: well I'm writing an obituary. Yours to be exact. Oh poor Regina, she were so young... Wait, no, can't write that.
Regina: one day, very soon, I will figure out how to send fireballs through this new world's technology and when I do...
Emma: here's the rough draft.
Emma: ATTENTION CITIZENS OF STORYBROOKE: Last night our Mayor, Regina (research middle name later) Mills: beloved mother, dark sorceress, reformed evil queen, total milf, and twenty-nine-time 'apple pie bake-off contest winner' aged ??? (I still haven't figured that out yet and don't actually want to know anyone's age anymore) passed on from this cruel world, due to an acute case of Suspencitis. She is survived by her son Henry "Boring first name" Mills, her partner in co-parenting Emma "Totally Awesome" Swan, and probably the entire lot of fairytale characters ever created because we're all strangely related anyway and it's Rumples fault I bet. The funeral will be held at some place really expensive and none of you are allowed to be late because she is fully capable of cursing you from beyond the grave for ruining her funeral. So wear something nice.
Regina: What's a milf?
Regina: You called me a total milf in your poorly written faux-bituary.
Emma: I did not!
Emma: oh wow I did.
Emma: okay, time to put the whiskey away.
Regina: I asked The Google about "total milf"
Emma: oh shit
Regina: It says you should get in my Benz.
Emma: what? How?
Regina: magic, dear, try to keep up. I'm parked outside of the bar. And, Miss Swan?
Regina: I'm not wearing any underwear.