FRIENDS

Season 11/1: The One with the Jinx
by R. John Burke

DISCLAIMER: Friends and all characters belong to Warner Brothers and Bright/Kauffman/Crane productions. This is non-profit fan fiction; no money is involved and no infringement is intended.

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Three Years After “The Last One”...

“Okay, here goes... now remember, this is a very technical operation, so if I get confused, you might have to just talk me through it. Ready?”

Chandler Bing waited until he got a serious, wide-eyed nod from his son Jack. Then he loaded up a spoonful of oatmeal. “Zzzzrrroooooooooooommmmm.... here comes the airplane.. zzrrroooom... open up the hangar... Flight 31 from Chicago-O'Hare, coming in for a...”

At the last instant, Jack turned his head aside and a spoonful of oatmeal landed on the preternaturally clean kitchen floor. He giggled and clapped his hands-- adopted or not, the boy had inherited his father's comic timing. Not to mention his appreciation for his own jokes.

“Sure, *you* can laugh. Between this and the sippy cup incident, I can kiss my pilot's license goodbye.”

“Meanwhile, I don't hear you cleaning that up,” said Monica Geller, his wife, who stood with her back to them while she did the dishes.

Chandler groaned as he dropped to his hands and knees. “This never would have happened if I'd listened to the Quaker on the box and gone with the horse and buggy. Damn my love of engine noises!”

“Okay, sweetie... seriously... I need to hear scrubbing.”

“Yes, dear.” Chandler reached for a hand towel and ran it over the spot. Then he started to laugh.

“What's funny?”

“Oh... I was just remembering when I used to do this for Joey.”

Monica frowned as she put away the last plate. “You used to clean up oatmeal for Joey?”

“He went through a phase in the late 90's. Long story...”

She frowned, but decided not to ask. “Speaking of Joey, when's his flight getting in?”

Chandler glanced at his wrist. “Well, this watch stopped running during the kids' bath last night and the clock on the microwave has been blinking for five months, so that would make it a quarter past I-Have-Absolutely-No-Idea.”

“I'll check the clock in the living room,” said Monica; she moved in that direction while she stripped off her rubber gloves.

She almost ran into the door as Jack's sister Erica came toddling in from the other side, a sheet of paper clutched in her tiny hands. She shoved it toward Monica, who crouched beside her.

“Drew a picture, Mommy!”

“Ohhh... sweetie, that's wonderful! This is very good! This is--” Monica stopped cold. “This... looks like it's drawn in marker. But it can't be that, because nobody in this house is allowed to buy her markers.”

“Um..” said Chandler.

“And if he *did* buy her markers, I know they'd be the washable kind that comes right off. Chandler, tell me they'd be the washable kind that comes right off.”

“Funny story...”

“Drew it good, huh, Mommy?” said Erica. She pointed at the living room. “Drew another in there!”

“Awhh!” Monica whimpered. Glaring daggers at Chandler, she slowly found her feet. “I'll be right back.”

“I'll be waiting,” said Chandler. When she was through the door, he turned to his son. “I say we board the 9:30 oatmeal spoon to Argentina. If we're quick, she'll never find us.”

“AWHHH!” came the tortured sob from the living room.

“You should know, I've left you well-provided for,” he said to Jack.

The door swung open. Monica came through a step at a time, her face ashen. “The walls... on my walls... there was... it was...”

“Pretty, huh, Mommy?” said Erica.

“Awwwwhh...” her mother moaned.

Something chimed from the other room. Chandler jumped out of his chair.

“Doorbell! It's the doorbell! I'm gonna-- I'll-- there's a bell on the door! I'll be right back!”

Doing his best to ignore the 'I will totally kill you later' look in Monica's eyes, he lunged into the living room, ready to buy at least 37 of whatever the person at the front door was selling. Instead...

“Anybody up for some foosball?”

“Joey!”

Before Chandler could elaborate, the handsome Italian on the other side of the door pulled him into a bear hug. Chandler wouldn't have thought he could so miss the faint whiff of pastrami sandwich that always came with proximity to his old friend.

The hug lasted until he heard Monica behind him, clearing her throat.

“Joey!” he exclaimed again. “Look who it is! We like Joey! We love Joey. We would never kill in the presence of Joey... would we?”

“No, but he has to sleep sometime.” But Monica couldn't stay angry, and she hugged Joey too. It lasted almost as long as the hug with Chandler. Not *quite* as long, but almost. When she drew back, she said, “Let me take a wild guess: You're hungry?”

“Aww! It's like I'm home!” said Joey, and they all marched back into the kitchen. He beamed when he saw the twins: “Aw, man, they got so big! C'mere and give your Uncle Joey a hug!” While the kids did so, he continued: “Oof! Wow, I gotta hand it to you guys. They look great. I bet this guy here's gonna be a football player... and Erica, she's so cute!”

Chandler cleared his throat. “Joey, could you do me a favor and not talk to my daughter for the next forty years?”

“Aww, you guys!” Joey hugged the kids again, then stood and sniffed audibly. “Man, have I missed Monica's cooking. What's that I smell?”

“Breakfast,” she said.

“My favorite! No, wait, dinner's my-- no, it's breakfast. Wait-- lunch! Aww, but man-- breakfast!”

As they sat down at the table, Chandler said, “I know that's a toughie, Joe. Say, here's an idea-- why don't you stay for a while and try all three?”

“Well, y'know, if you insist,” said Joey, and he allowed Monica to fill his plate with a huge helping of ham and eggs.

“So how was Hollywood?” Monica asked as she sat down with Erica on her knee.

“Not so good. My show got canceled. Then a couple of movies bombed. Then my other show got canceled. Then I went to Disneyland and got really sick on the Teacups. Oh, but hey-- my sister and nephew said to say hi.”

“Hi, Joey's sister,” said Chandler. “Which one lives in California, again?”

“Oh... Gina.”

“Mmm-hmm, and Gina is...?”

Joey jabbed a finger at him. “Dude, you better know the difference by now!”

“What? No, of course I-- c'mon, I'm just yanking your chain!” Chandler met Monica's eyes across the table and shrugged as if to say: Not a clue.

She said to Joey: “You know, if things aren't working out in California, you could always come back to New York.”

Joey brightened. “Oh, hey, I know, believe me-- I been thinkin' about it. That's why I'm so psyched for my audition tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “My agent got me an audition for a Broadway play. It's a really big deal, you know? Big budget, the works. It's supposed to be an adaptation of 'David Copperfield.'”

“Well, that sounds pretty good,” said Chandler.

Joey grinned. “Yeah, I know! Wouldn't it be perfect? I could stay here with you guys and be on Broadway! Plus, I think I'd make a really good David Copperfield. I *love* magic! And I could totally see myself making the Statue of Liberty disappear.”

“Uh, call me crazy, but I think it's more likely to be 'David Copperfield' by Dickens.”

“Dude, I don't care who wrote the play! I just want to star in it!”

Chandler blinked. He'd forgotten about that shooting pain behind his left eye, too. “No, Joe... I think...”

“Forget it,” said Monica.

“But...”

“Look, we don't have two hours.”

“Yeah, okay.” Chandler sighed. “So it sounds like that whole California thing was really disappointing. I'm sorry, man.”

Joey shrugged. “It's okay. I mean, I had a lot of fun. For one thing, everything you hear about the women in California? Totally true. I mean, they're *beautiful*. On the other hand, the pizza and the sandwiches suck compared to New York. I feel like I'm facing this defining moment in my life, you know? It's like, which do I love more? Food... or women? It's a conundrum.”

Chandler stared at him. “How long did you practice that word?”

“The whole cab ride,” Joey said, sheepish.

Chandler nodded along with him. “Well, Joe, I'd like to help you choose, you know, between the great food and the beautiful women, but with Monica, I have both.”

He squeezed his wife's hand. She made a face at him. “Yeah, I still haven't forgotten about the markers.”

“...did I mention she's smart too?”

It was worth a shot, but judging by the look on Monica's face, it didn't do him much good. She got up from the table and put the gloves back on. Chandler had learned that the gloves were never a good sign.

Meanwhile, Joey was saying: “...but enough about me; you guys look great, how's everybody else? How's Ross and Rachel?”

“They're doing... fine,” said Monica carefully. “Actually, while you're here, you might get to see Ross propose.”

“Yes,” said Chandler. “What *are* the chances you'll stay through the year 2055?”

Monica tried to hit him. He dodged. Joey looked confused, which was pretty normal for Joey. He said: “Wait... you mean those two aren't married yet?”

Chandler stared for a moment. “I'm curious. At what point do you remember attending their wedding?”

Joey shrugged. “I dunno, they've gone back and forth so much over the years, I get confused. Plus, I did a *lot* of partying out in California, you know what I mean?”

Chandler did know what he meant, so they both grinned-- until Monica came around for another pass and smacked him upside the head.

“Ow!” he said. “What did I do to deserve--”

She jabbed a finger at him. “Do NOT get me started. She drew a FULL-SIZED MURAL!”

Chandler winced. “Yeah, okay...”

“Anyway,” said Monica, “no, they're not married yet. Ross has been pretty frustrated. He says that everything's been so weird over the years, he wants the moment when he finally proposes to be absolutely perfect. But you know Ross... always worried about something.”

“Wow...” said Joey.

“I know, it's shocking,” said Chandler. “Who ever thought any of the Gellers would turn out to be a control freak?”

He cringed as soon as he said it, but this time Monica only glared. Meanwhile, Erica piped up:

“Daddy, what's control freak?”

“It's a-- well, you know, we don't have to go into that right now.” Clearing his throat, Chandler hopped up from the table and ushered his son and daughter into the living room, whispering as they went: “Just look in the dictionary; it'll be right beside Mommy's picture.”

“I HEARD that!”

“She's just so pretty and smart,” he said to Joey. Monica glared at him as she followed after the twins.

“So anyway,” Chandler continued, “about Ross and Rachel, we're really starting to worry about them. Ross has tried to propose like six times; he never gets all the way through it. We thought it'd get better when Phoebe took the curse off, but...”

Joey looked blank. “The curse?”

“Oh, that's right, you missed that. Okay, long story short, Phoebe thinks her aura may have been thrown out of whack by Y2K and that's how she accidentally cursed us.”

“I've been cursed?! Whoa-- that makes total sense! No *wonder* my shows keep getting canceled!”

Chandler held eye contact for about ten seconds, then said, “Yes, Joe, that's the reason.”

Just then, Monica came back through the doors, grumbling: “You HAD to get them ALL the markers? You couldn't have taken out the PURPLE one first? It TOTALLY clashes...”

Before her husband could respond, the phone rang and Monica picked up:

“HELLO! I mean, hello. Oh, hey, Pheebs. What's the-- where's Joey? What do you mean, where's... hold on.” Monica looked up and covered the receiver. “Um... Joey, did you happen to ask Phoebe to pick you up at the airport?”

“Yeah! I mean, she offered. She's got her cab, and I thought that'd be great, and then I got an earlier flight, and I thought, man, that's even better. We'll totally surprise them!”

“We, Joe?” said Chandler, gesturing around the room.

“Yeah, because you know... I didn't think you'd expect us this early.”

“'Us?'” said Monica.

“Yeah! You know, I thought you'd be--Ohhhh.” Joey's eyes went wide. Chandler winced and nodded-- he'd also missed the 'Joey Take.' The actor craned his neck toward Monica and called: “Sorry, Pheebs!”

Monica uncovered the receiver and listened for a moment, then nodded to Joey. “Yeah, you're cursed again.”

“Aww!”

“Okay...” said Monica. “Okay... yeah, I'll tell him. Okay. See you tonight. 'Bye.”

“Well?” said Joey.

“Well, she said she and Mike will meet us for dinner tonight like we planned. She said she's really looking forward to seeing you. And oh... something about your children's children.”

“Aww!” said Joey again.

Chandler stared at him. “Dude, how could you forget Phoebe?”

“LOT of partying, man.”

“Okay. You know what? Let's show you to your room, and then as your penance, you can help me scrub a mural off the walls.”

“Wait, wait!” said Monica. “As much as I want the wall scrubbed... and BELIEVE me, I do... first I want to see you do it just one time.”

Joey said: “Do you really think...”

“C'mon, yeah, do it. Do your Joey thing. I've really missed it.”

“Well... okay.” Joey looked her up and down, smiled his most dashing smiled, and said, “How *you* doin'?”

Monica giggled. Chandler frowned at her. “Did you just ask another guy to flirt with you in front of me?”

“My walls are PURPLE!” she said, and hurried back into the living room.

“...yeah, okay,” Chandler muttered, turning to follow her.

“Whoa, hold on!” said Joey. “Now *you* gotta do it one time. C'mon. Do your thing.”

“Uh, sure.” He sighed, then in a familiar tone of voice: “Could we *be* anymore glad to see you?”

“No, man!” said Joey. “I mean, that was good, but... the *other* thing!”

“Joey, I don't...”

“Please! For old time's sake?”

“Oh... okay.” Chandler sighed, picked up a spoonful of oatmeal, and said: “Zrrrrooooooommmm.... here comes the airplane...”

*****

To the casual observer, Phoebe Buffay-Hannigan looked rather lost as she stumbled into the gift shop at JFK Airport. Of course, someone who didn't know Phoebe well would have said she looked rather lost most of the time. Phoebe didn't think of it that way; to her, life was a series of interconnected stops along a winding road. Unlike other people, Phoebe felt most comfortable when she couldn't see the map.

She was finishing up a cel phone conversation with her husband Mike as she entered the shop: “That's right, he totally ditched me! Uh-huh! Well... I mean, it is Joey. He once asked me whether I thought Bugs Bunny and Roger Rabbit were related. Right. I mean, come on, they're totally different surnames! What? Oh... no, I love Joey! He's one of my oldest friends!”

Phoebe stopped to ask the cashier: “Excuse me... um, hi, may I please see your selection of pins? And also, um, do you carry any dolls? Yes, I'm looking for one in the in the shape of a popular daytime actor.” The cashier gave her a funny look; Phoebe shrugged and said to Mike, “Yeah, no, he's totally forgiven.”

A moment later, thwarted in her search, Phoebe said good-bye to Mike and stepped out of the gift shop. A few feet away, a man stood holding a sign in one hand and a cel phone in the other. He was yelling into it-- the cel phone, not the sign.

“--what? You tell her I deserve that raise!” He swung his arms out as he spoke, nearly hitting Phoebe with the sign.

“Um... whoa! Okay... excuse me...”

“--yeah, you tell that witch that I have worked for her for seven years, and I deserve a little consideration!” He swung the sign again. If Phoebe weren't unusually limber, it would have smacked her in the forehead.

“Yeah, okay. I think that time might have been partly your fault...”

“--No, you know what? Don't bother to tell her! You know why? 'Cause I quit!” The man gestured emphatically with the sign and almost pushed it right into Phoebe's stomach. This time she grabbed his arm.

“Excuse me. Hi. Yeah, I can see that you're going through like a really hard time right now, okay, and I am so, so sorry about that. Yeah, but all the same, um, I have to say: If you hit me with that again, I'm gonna have to kick your ass a little bit.”

The guy glared at her. Then he shoved the sign into her arms.

“I'll tell you what: Just keep that thing. I'm out of here.”

“Ooh! Okay! Thank you so much! Now I can put this in my yard and... and pretend I have a yard!” The guy wasn't listening. Phoebe sighed. Then she looked at the sign, which read: 'Dr. Rajarshi.' “Well, I couldn't *really* put this in my yard because... you know, it's not our name. Ooh! It *should* be our name! Oh, why didn't we think of this when we were changing them?”

She was about to discard the sign when suddenly a bald man in an expensive suit came running up. In an Indian accent, he said:

“Excuse me, yes! I am Dr. Rajarshi! Oh, finally! I am very glad to see you... it's been such a difficult flight...”

“Hi...” said Phoebe. “But no, see, I'm not--”

“Now, quickly, please! We must hurry to the hospital. There is not much time.”

“Yeah, but-- no, because I was just standing here and--”

“Hurry, woman!” Rajarshi said, shaking her. “Do you not understand, the patient's condition is very serious!”

Phoebe frowned. “Wait-- you mean, you came here to save somebody's life and that guy just left without--” she trailed off, then raised her voice. “Ooh, that very, very, very-- VERY bad man! I'm gonna make a doll for him next!”

“Yes, but please,” said Rajarshi, tugging at her sleeve. “We must hurry! I must consult with Dr. Flannery before the operation.”

“Uhh!” Phoebe looked around, annoyed. “I'm not gonna have to pick *him* up too, am I?”

The doctor just stared at her. Phoebe shrugged and led him to her cab.

*****

The restaurant was lovely, the background music soft and soothing, the mood romantic... and Rachel Greene was feeling just the slightest bit jumpy as her boyfriend pulled back the chair for her.

“Rachel, would you...”

“YES! Yes, I will! Absolutely!”

Ross Geller blinked a few times. “I... was going to say, 'Rachel, would you like to sit down?'”

“Oh.” She blushed. “Yes! Yes, I would like to sit down. I am very enthusiastic about the... the sitting down.”

She did. Ross was still looking at her funny as he circled around the table, sat across from her, and picked up the menu. He cleared his throat.

“There's something I've been wanting to--”

“YES!” said Rachel. “Finally! Yes! I'm so glad we can finally--”

He glared at her. “To *try,* I was saying. There's something on the menu here that I have been wanting to *try*.”

“Ah.” Rachel slapped the table. “And I'm just so, so glad that you are trying new things.”

Now Ross looked annoyed. “Look, could you at least *pretend* you don't know why we're here?”

“Well, I am trying, Ross, but come on! You pull me out of work to get all dressed up and have lunch at a fancy restaurant when we're supposed to be meeting the others for dinner in like three hours. Yesterday Emma asked me what a flower girl does, which I hope means you've told her because otherwise she's developing some really weird career aspirations. And that's either a ring in your jacket or you're packin' heat!”

“Yeah, okay, I know...”

“You're like a desperado, heat-packin' paleontologist!”

“Yes. Okay. I get the...”

“Like a secret-agent, desperado, heat-packin', renegade...”

“YES! Thank you. Point made. You can stop now.”

“Yeah, I know, but surprisingly it's kinda a turn-on.”

“Really?” Ross arched an eyebrow. Then he shook it off. “Look, Rach, this is serious, okay? I want to do this right!”

“Yeah, I know. I'm sorry.” She looked around them. “Just... does it have to be Antonio's again?”

“What's wrong with this place? The food is great, the ambiance is...”

“It's just... a bad vibe, you know? The last few times we've tried to do this here, something's gone wrong. Like last time, the waiter spilled a pitcher of ice water in your lap, and the time before that there was the drunken guy and then the time before that you had that... reaction... to the scampi...”

Ross made a face. “Yeah, that was awkward.”

“Mm-hmm. So tell me, Ross, why do we keep coming back here?”

“Because it's like our favorite place!”

“Yeah, not so much mine anymore.” Rachel shook her head. “I dunno, I just feel like maybe it's jinxed or something...”

“It is NOT JINXED!” Ross exclaimed, knocking over the salt shaker with a sweep of his arm.

Rachel stared at him. “Ohhh... oh, I get it now. This isn't about *us*. This is about *you*.”

“It is not!” said Ross, making his Really Bad Liar face.

“Oh, it so is! This is about you and your little scientist thing where everything has to make sense and you can't admit that maybe-- just *maybe*-- there are some things that are out of your control!”

“No, Rach, some things *are* out of my control. Like... world peace. World peace is out of my control. The scientific inaccuracies in 'Jurassic Park III' were out of my control-- although I did offer to fix them. A jinx is not out of my control because a jinx doesn't exist!”

“Uh-huh, you know what else doesn't exist? Our wedding! STILL!”

“Oh, now you're *pressuring* me? Suddenly we have to get married in some kind of artificial time-frame?”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Right, because I forgot how reluctant you are about the whole institution of marriage. Did you even know Emily's last name when you proposed to her?”

“Of course I did!”

“What was it?” Rachel crossed her arms and waited.

“It was-- it was--” Ross snapped his fingers several times. “Look, this is not about Emily. This is about you and me and doing this when we're ready!”

“Okay, honey, our first date was 12 years ago. We've lived together for three years and we have a five-year-old daughter. I gotta tell ya, I think we might be ready!”

“I know! I just--” He sighed and took her hand. “Look, Rach, you are the love of my life, okay? And-- as hard as it may be to believe-- this is the last time I ever plan on doing this. I just wanted to do it our way... in our place... and I want it to be right for *us*. You know?”

He held Rachel's eyes. She sighed. “You're right. Of course, I'm sorry. You're right. Go ahead.”

“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Now, Rachel, we've known each other for a long time...”

“Oh, lonnnnng time!” She winced. “Sorry. Last one.”

“Thank you. And, um, in all my life there's never been anyone who meant so much to me.”

Behind them, a waiter was seating a couple of patrons. Ross tried to ignore them, but they were talking awfully loud:

“I didn't think you'd make it,” said the woman. “I thought you said you were working through lunch.”

“Well, what can I say? I'm on a break.”

Ross cleared his throat and straightened his collar. Rachel gave him a *look*. He reached into his jacket. “You... um... you've been my lover, the mother of my child, and my best friend. And I just want to...”

“Hey,” said the guy behind him. “are you gonna eat that?”

“I thought you were on a diet.”

“I am.”

“So you're cheating.”

“I guess...”

“You're on a break, and you're just gonna cheat. Well, that's just great.”

“Ahem!” said Ross, whipping out the ring case. “Okay, maybe we should just speed this along and...”

“I can't believe you're doing that! One thing you should never, *ever* do... is cheat on a break!”

“SHUT UP!” Ross cried, whirling around. “There are OTHER PEOPLE at this restaurant, okay? And some of us don't care about you and your STUPID BREAK!”

“It's actually his lunch hour,” said the woman. “So I don't know if you'd even call it a break...”

“Oh, it's a break,” said the man. “In fact, we're both on a break.”

“SHUT UP!!!”

The maitre'd tapped Ross on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir. You're creating a disturbance. I'll have to ask you to keep your voice down.”

Ross looked around. The entire restaurant was glaring at him, especially Rachel. He gave a little, nervous laugh.

“Yes. I'm sorry. I'll tell you what: We just need one minute here, and then we'll go.” Turning back to his girlfriend, he started to open the ring case. “So what I mean to say is, Rachel, will you...”

Ross studied Rachel. Rachel studied Ross. He snapped shut the ring case.

“Yeah, it's not gonna happen today.”

“*So* close,” she said, and reached for the ring case. “Could I just get a teeny, tiny peek at the...”

“No!”

“No, of course not,” she said, and sighed.

*****

With the sun beginning to set over the New York skyline, Mike Hannigan pushed his way through the airport, looking for his wife. He was pretty sure she was here because he'd almost been sideswiped by a taxicab on the way to the gate, and while New York did not lack for homicidal cab drivers, he didn't think more than one could have a handmade bumper sticker bearing the lyrics to “Smelly Cat.”

He finally saw a blonde head of hair in a knot of people by one of the gates, and fought his way over there. He found Phoebe holding a sign that said “Mr. Kovacs” and conversing with another sign-holding person in fluent German. He called her name until she looked up.

“Phoebe! There you are! You never told me you spoke German.”

“Well, you never told me you spoke Chinese.”

“I... don't speak Chinese.”

“Well, there you go,” said Phoebe.

Mike spent a few seconds processing that, then put it aside. “It's almost 6:00. We're going to be late meeting your friends. Why are you still here?”

“Oh... I've been greeting people at the airport. You meet the *most* interesting people that way. Watch.” Phoebe turned to one of the other sign-holders. “Hey, who have you got?”

“I'm waiting for Rabbi Bergman.”

“Ooh, a rabbi! I've just got a boring businessman. I'll give you $100 to trade.”

The other woman frowned at Phoebe, shrugged, and traded signs. Phoebe paid the woman, turned to Mike, and said “See? Now I can learn all about my heritage!”

“Phoebe, you're not Jewish.”

“Well... you're not Chinese!”

“Ow,” said Mike, certain this was what it felt like when your brain exploded. He rallied: “Look, can we just get out of here, please? I think you've had enough fun...”

“It wasn't all fun! I'll have you know I saved a life! Only it turned out the patient was a rich lady's German shepherd. Yeah, but that's okay, 'cause they're people, too.”

“Let's go,” said Mike, tugging at her arm.

“Wait! Wait! I have to wait for Rabbi Bergman! Ooh-- you know, I should do this, like, as a business! It's been pretty lucrative... the last guy tipped me $50.”

“Didn't you just pay $100 to switch?”

Phoebe thought about that and said: “Yeah, okay, I'll stop with Rabbi Bergman.”

“Thank you,” said Mike, and he settled in to wait.

A moment later Phoebe added: “How did you find me at this gate, anyway?”

“Oh... I almost got run down by your cab. So unless Ursula's still trying to kill me...”

“She *promised* she would stop that!” said Phoebe. Then she frowned. “Yeah, but just to be safe, you should switch plates with Chandler tonight...”

*****

As predicted, Phoebe and Mike were the last ones to arrive at the restaurant, and they found the others waiting in a knot outside. Their arrival touched off a chain reaction of hugging. Phoebe hugged Monica and Chandler. Chandler and Monica hugged Ross and Rachel. Ross and Rachel hugged Phoebe. Joey hugged Ross and Rachel and Monica and Chandler and Phoebe and Mike and then Chandler again, for good measure. He even tried to hug Bearded Guy. Then he realized he had no idea who Bearded Guy was, so he stopped.

“Um, guys, this is Rabbi Bergman...” said Phoebe.

“Shalom,” said the newcomer.

“So... a rabbi, huh?” said Rachel. “Perform a lot of marriages, do ya?”

“Rachel!” said Ross.

“I was just *asking*...”

Phoebe continued, “Rabbi Bergman just got into town today.”

“Ah,” said Chandler, “so what brings you to New York? I mean, besides providing the answer to my burning question: What happens when a rabbi, an Irishman, and Phoebe walk into a bar?”

Monica cleared her throat. “Sweetie... honey... I know I said some things earlier today about you going to hell, but could you not drag the rest of us with you?”

“To tell you the truth,” said the rabbi, “I was just planning to go straight to the synagogue from the airport. Then I met Phoebe. Nothing that's happened since has quite made sense.”

The entire group of friends nodded and sent up a chorus of “Oh, yeahs” and “Been theres.” They hailed another cab for the Rabbi while Mike apologized again.

“Oh, don't be silly. Meeting interesting people is one of the best things about my job.”

“Ooh! Mine, too!” said Phoebe.

“What exactly do you do?”

“Oh, normally I'm a masseuse.”

Rabbi Bergman frowned. “Then why do you meet people at the airport?”

“Apparently because I'm not Chinese,” said Mike. Everybody looked at him. “Don't ask me, that was as far as I got before my headache set in.”

The friends all nodded and said “Oh, yeah” and “Been there.”

Ross finally stopped a cab, and as they were putting Bergman into it, Chandler said: “Okay, you take care now, and remember, if you *do* happen to walk into any bars--”

“Chandler!” said Monica.

“--continue to represent a proud and noble people!”

As the cab drove away, Phoebe said: “You cut off a Chandler joke in the middle! You must have leverage!”

“Do NOT get me started,” said Monica, and she stormed into the restaurant.

The others looked at Chandler until he confessed: “Okay... there was a small mishap involving the walls...”

Rachel gasped. “Ooh! Monica's walls! That's almost as bad as Monica's floor!”

“How big?” Ross asked.

“Full-sized mural.”

“What color?” asked Rachel.

“Little bit purple.”

Rachel gasped again. Ross cringed.

“Dude,” he said, “you're not having sex for the next fifteen years.”

“With *your* sister,” Chandler reminded him.

Ross winced. “Yeah, I keep forgetting how badly those jokes can backfire in the 'mental image' department...”

“Okay,” said Phoebe, “so if Monica gets to cut off Chandler's joke over some marks on the walls, for leaving me at the airport, I should get to cut off Joey's--”

“Heyyyyy!” said Joey, hiding behind Chandler.

“I didn't even finish.”

“I don't care! There's no way that sentence was turnin' out good!”

Chandler stepped away from Joey and clapped him on the back. “Still, it's ironic, isn't it? You're about to lose stuff you get a lot of use out of, and apparently I have extra stuff that I won't be needing for a while...”

“Yeah-- hey, we should trade!”

“Nooooo!” said Chandler, creeping out at the very idea.

Mike cleared his throat. “You know, sweetie, think of it this way: If Joey *hadn't* left you at the airport, you wouldn't have saved a dog's life or met all those people. So in a way, you know... maybe it was fate.”

“Huh. That's true. Ooh, I like that!” Phoebe brightened. “Okay, you're forgiven. But I'm still making my Joey voodoo doll because, you know, he's cuddly.”

“You bet he is,” said Joey with a big grin.

“Yeah, thanks for that,” said Mike. “I already had to share bedroom space with the Rachel doll...”

Rachel blinked. “Wait-- Pheebs, why do you have a Rachel voodoo doll?”

“To go with the Ross doll, of course!”

Mike said, “I don't think I've ever seen a Ross doll. What happened to it?”

Phoebe looked at Ross out of the corner of her eye and said: “Yeah, let's not talk about that now. Who's hungry? I'm starving...!”

She followed Monica into the restaurant.

*****

They all ordered pretty light, except for Joey, who was feeling homesick and placed an order for “Everything on the menu that comes from New York.” After eating it all in a rather remarkable display, he was just feeling... regular sick.

“So, Chandler, how are *you* feeling?” Phoebe asked when the meal was over.

“Fine... why?”

“Nothing, no-- yeah, that's good! That's excellent!” said Phoebe, and she winked at Mike.

“Ohhhh...” Joey groaned. “I dunno what went wrong...”

Ross suggested, “Maybe you should have eaten the pizza, *then* the ice cream, instead of alternating?”

“Aw, man! But then you don't get the cheese and the chocolate sauce in the same bite!”

Monica said, “Okay, you know what? We have a long ride back to the suburbs, a babysitter waiting, and... apparently, very little chance of getting there without catastrophic damage to the upholstery. We need to go.”

That got her another round of hugs and a teary “Aww! I miss you guys!” from Rachel, but eventually Monica, Chandler, and Joey separated themselves from the group. On the way out, Chandler said:

“So... if he makes an even bigger mess in the car... is there any chance I'm off the hook?”

Monica frowned. “I'm already not sleeping with *him*.”

“I been meanin' to talk to you about that...” said Joey.

“Look, I will build you new walls!” said Chandler, and they left on that note.

Rachel decided to visit the restroom to fix her makeup. Phoebe started to rise with her.

“Pheebs, you don't have to go!” said Ross quickly.

“That's right! I do not!” said Phoebe, and she sat back down.

Rachel frowned at them both. “Well... if you're sure...”

“I said I do not! STOP HARASSING ME!”

“Okaaay...” said Rachel. She walked away.

When she was gone, Phoebe turned to Ross: “Can we make this quick, because I kinda do have to...”

“Oh! Yeah, of course, I just needed to talk to you. In fact, I feel silly just asking this, but... you *did* take that curse off, right?”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” said Phoebe. “Why-- oh, no, did you get the boils?”

“No! Ew! No!” Ross cringed. “No, I just... I tried to ask Rachel again today. I *really* wanted to do it now, you know, while everybody's here to celebrate... but the craziest things keep happening. I'm beginning to think she right, we're...”

He trailed off, looked away, unable to even say it. Phoebe's eyes went wide.

“Jinxed! You're jinxed! Ross believes in a jinx! Oh, how great is THIS?”

“It's not great at ALL!”

Phoebe frowned. “Oh, well, no, for you, sure, it sucks. But for me-- you know, it's like a validation of my lifestyle. You don't mind if I spread this all over the Internet, do you?”

“What-- no!” Ross looked all around them. “You talk to people on the Internet about me and Rachel?”

“Just a few chatrooms.” Phoebe shrugged. “CoolDude64 in Jacksonville is *really* rooting for you guys. By the way, if you get any mail from him, you might not want to open it.”

“Phoebe!” Ross exclaimed. “Look, I don't know, all right? I don't know how to explain it anymore! This thing has got me spinning in circles!”

“Oh, that won't break a jinx,” Phoebe said. “Unless maybe you spin with a chicken. Ooh! You could borrow Joey's!”

Mike cleared his throat. “Wait, now. Come on, Ross. You're a scientist. Let's look at this logically...”

Phoebe snorted. “Yeah, sure, *that'll* work.”

“Do you always propose in that same place?”

Ross frowned. “The last few times. I did try other places, though-- like one time we spent a weekend on the Jersey shore, and I tried to propose while we were walking along the beach... and I kind of stepped on a stingray. That one might've been a coincidence.”

“Okay, you clearly know nothing about the animal kingdom,” said Phoebe, still miffed.

“Then a couple of times I thought, you know, let's just do it at Central Perk. I figured that was kind of 'our place'... but the same kind of thing was happening there.”

Mike frowned. “Alright... so what do the two places have in common?”

“Wait, which restaurant is this?” said Phoebe.

“It's that Italian place in the village... Antonio's.”

“Ooh, yes! I know that place! I heard about it from the maitre d's cousin! I love their scampi!”

“I... used to,” said Ross. “Who's the maitre d's cousin?”

Phoebe opened her mouth, closed it again, then jumped out of her chair. “Whoa, okay, I have to go to the bathroom like RIGHT now!”

“Um, okay, Pheebs... I'll just hang out with Mike 'till...”

“No, Mike has to go, too!” Phoebe tugged at her husband's sleeve. “C'mon, honey, let's go together! It'll be like a togetherness thing!”

“Won't I look a little out of place in the ladies' room?”

“You are absolutely right!” said Phoebe. “Ooh, I know! Let's find someplace we can both use!”

“But--”

“Come ON! You never want to do anything I think is fun!”

“But-- well-- ow,” said Mike. He put up a hand to massage his throbbing temples as they left the restaurant.

A moment later, Rachel came back. “Hey, what happened to Phoebe and Mike?”

“I'm not sure.” Ross shrugged. “They're either looking for a unisex bathroom... or sticking us with the check.”

*****

A little distance away in Greenwich Village, a man with a close-cropped, bleached haircut was wiping out a mug in the coffee house he'd recently bought from its owner. He'd just locked the doors behind the last customer of the night, and he was looking forward to a quiet evening when--

“GUNTHER!”

He looked up to find one of his best customers, Phoebe Buffay, and her husband Mike... something... charging toward the counter.

“How did you get in here? This isn't a robbery, is it?”

Phoebe scoffed. “Please, like this place would be worth my time. You've been doing it, haven't you? You and your cousin at Antonio's have been jinxing Ross!”

“I don't know what you're--”

Phoebe jabbed a finger at him. “Don't toy with me, little man! Your powers are WEAK compared to mine!”

Gunther took a step back. “I-- but-- um--”

“*So* glad I got of bed this morning,” Mike said, to nobody in particular.

“All right-- yes-- it's true. But--”

“Why? That's-- that's awful! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? It's wrong, I tell you, WRONG!” Phoebe took a deep breath. “Okay, it's possible I've had too much caffeine here over the years.”

“Awful?” said Gunther. “You know what's awful? I *finally* confess my feelings to Rachel on the grounds that she's *leaving* and then she stays to be with *him*! I... I lost my head!”

“Okay,” said Phoebe, calmer now. “Okay, fine. No harm done. I too enjoy, you know, the messing with his mind. But now it's really got to stop.”

“Why?” he challenged her.

“Why? Um-- okay-- yeah. Because--” Phoebe said the first thing that came to mind: “Because *I* love you!”

“What?” said Gunther.

“What?!” said Mike.

Now Phoebe kinda wished the first thing hadn't been *that*, but she forged ahead: “No, yeah, it's true. All these years, I've been sitting there, watching you... the way you pour that coffee, you know, and... well, I love you. Yeah. I do.”

Mike pulled up a chair and sat down heavily. “You don't happen to sell booze here, do you? Like really strong booze?”

Gunther said, “Wow... Phoebe, I...”

“Yes! Yes, I know! If only I'd said something years ago, it could have been different! But now, you know, I'm married, and it would be wrong to let this come between me and my husband. Just like it would be wrong for you to let your feelings for Rachel come between her and Ross. Come on, you know that, right?”

Gunther hung his head. “But... oh... you're right.”

“Yes! Yes, I am right! I'm sorry, Gunther. We just-- we both have to be strong. You stay away from Rachel, and I'll... I'll stay away from the coffee house. Forever. Yes, because that's the way it's got to be. Doesn't it, Gunther? Say you'll do that one last favor... for me.”

He sighed. “You're right. I'm sorry, Phoebe. I won't interfere.”

“That's good.” Phoebe took his hand. “Because if love didn't work, you know, I was gonna have to hit you with the boils.”

“Okay.” They shared a long, tearful hug, and then Gunther turned away. “You know, I always suspected there was something there. Was it my rugged good looks?”

“Uh-huh, okay. 'Bye now.”

Phoebe took Mike's arm and, with a last look at the place where she liked to play guitar, left Central Perk behind. When they were back out on the street, he leaned down and kissed her.

“What was that for?”

“You. You're sweet. Giving up the coffee house like that for Ross and Rachel. I know how much that place means to you.”

“Well, you know...” Phoebe shrugged. “I've been thinking it was too small a venue for my talent anyway.”

Mike laughed. “So... I found out a lot about my wife today. She speaks German, she picks locks with frightening efficiency... and then there's the whole boil thing, which... yeah. Anything else I need to know?”

“Okay, that is *so* the tip of the iceberg,” said Phoebe, and she rested her head on his shoulder as they walked home.

*****

Back at the restaurant, Ross Geller and Rachel Greene sat at their table, alone and slightly dejected. Ross sighed heavily.

“I'll bet she went to remove the jinx.”

“What?” said Rachel.

“The, um...” Ross blushed. “Okay, it's silly, but... I told her how much I wanted to propose to you, and how it kept going wrong, and you know Phoebe. I'll bet she thinks she can fix it by, like, cleansing our aura or something.”

“Good luck,” said Rachel. She sighed, too. Then she looked up. “Hey, Ross?”

He chomped down on a breadstick. “What?”

“Maybe I'm crazy here, but think about this: If we know you want to propose to me, and we know I want to accept-- 'want' might be too mild a word really, more like 'at the end of my rope WAITING for'...”

“Yeah, okay,” said Ross. “I get it. So what?”

“So... aren't we kinda engaged already?”

“No!” said Ross. “No, because that's not the way I want this to happen! Rach, I have already blown three marriages, okay? This time, it's got to be perfect--”

“Yeah, well, it's never going to be *perfect*, Ross! Okay? There is no perfect! You're always going to be kind of this anal, neurotic geek--”

“Well, *now* the moment feels right,” Ross said.

“-- Let me finish, okay! You're going to have your stuff and I'm going to have my stuff and we'll probably never get that whole 'break' thing settled... but you know what? I think that's okay. Ross, our whole relationship we've been waiting for this perfect situation that might never come... and meanwhile, we love each other and we want to be together. Isn't that all that matters?”

“Well... well, yeah,” said Ross. “But I'd still feel better if we could just technically, officially--”

At that point, Rachel snapped. “Ross, dammit, do you want to marry me or not?”

“...Yeah, okay.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Okay,” said Rachel, “then I guess we're getting married.”

“I guess so.”

“Okay, good. That's good. Now GIMME THE RING!”

She made a grab for it. Ross dodged, but caught her hand and reached out to put it on her finger.

He stopped. “But for the record, about that break thing...”

“Ross, either kiss me or shove another breadstick in your mouth, but either way, shut up right now.”

“Yeah, good thought,” said Ross. He put the ring on and kissed her.

*****

“...okay, next up: Joey Tribbiani. You can just start anyplace.”

Joey stepped out onto the stage and grinned at the casting director. “Okay, uh, I'm gonna need a little help for this reading. I'm gonna show you what I think is the essence of David Copperfield.”

“...okay,” said the director, a little confused.

He was doubly so when Chandler stepped out after Joey, dressed like the Statue of Liberty and carrying a torch. At the back of the theater, Monica laughed and clapped her hands.

“...what the hell?” said the casting director.

“We couldn't talk him out of this,” said Chandler. “And... this is what it took to get my wife to forget our walls.” He waved with his torch. “Hi, honey.”

“...yeah, okay. I think we've seen enough.”

“What?!” said Joey. “I didn't even get to make him disappear!”

“Please,” said the casting director, “feel free to do so now.”

“But... yeah, okay.”

As Joey trudged off the stage, Chandler threw an arm around him. “C'mon, big guy. We'll get you the Joey Special.”

“Two pizzas?”

“They can even be pizza sandwiches.”

“Aw, it's the Joey Super-Special!” He stopped in the middle of the stage, tossed up his hands, and cried: “I'm home!!!”

NOT THE END...