Fic and A Story From My Life
Oct. 7th, 2011 04:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thothmesSo recently ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
a_loquita posted a lovely little (sam/jack) fiction involving ridiculous instructions, The World's Dumbest Instructions, to which I replied with a snippet of comment fic. In the replies to that the subject of warning labels came up, and that inspired this:
Title: Caution. Coffee Is Hot.
Season: While Jacob and Selmac are blended, Daniel is alive, and Jack's a Colonel
Spoilers: Uh...No!
Warnings: Nope. And Fig? It's Certified Shipfree. Maybe even FairTrade.
Synopsis: It's a universal constant, along with death and taxes.
Caution. Coffee Is Hot.
Jacob reached up to the keypad and entered the code that the Tok'ra operative had given him, and the heavy metal door at last split diagonally, retreating into the corners of its aperture. Beyond lay what they had come for — Ra's storehouse. It was vast beyond belief, stretching back for what seemed like acres of dimly-lit space, all of it crammed with a vast and varied assortment of crates and boxes, most with the glint of the gold that was so characteristic of Goa'uld décor.
"Wow!" said Jack. "Think this is where they put the Arc of the Covenant?"
"The films of George Lucas are superior to those of Steven Spielburg," said Teal'c.
Sam was silent, frowning down at a small device in her left hand. With her right hand she was entering commands, but to no avail.
"This is useless, sir." she said. "There's so much naquidah in here that it's off the scale in any direction I point it. Most Goa'uld technology runs on naquidah, so I guess it's not surprising."
Daniel was reading labels on the boxes deciding which one he wanted to investigate first.
Jack was just about to move into position behind him, all the better to startle him with a sudden barked reminder not to touch anything without permission, when Daniel burst into laughter.
It was some time before the archaeologist, surrounded by this time by his bemused team and one blended being, was able to wipe his streaming eyes and calm his breathing enough to make himself understood.
"It's a crate for a sarcophagus. Probably one that was no longer used because it was so old, because the writing is a very archaic form of Goa'uld. It has the manufacturer's wa-....[*giggles*]...war...[*sputtering giggles*]...warning label!" That last word, as he finally got all of it out, rose into a falsetto squeak as Daniel tried manfully, but unsuccessfully to get the whole of it said without relapsing into laughter.
He slipped slowly down to the floor this time, he was laughing so hard, but within a few minutes had almost fully recovered his composure, only to lose it again when he made the mistake of looking up and catching the mystified and concerned expressions of his friends.
Finally, when his cheeks and belly were aching from the strain, and the sleeves of his jacket were covered with wet splotches from wiping his streaming eyes, he ran out of steam and grew quiet. Teal'c helped him to his feet, and Jack reached over and gently slid his glasses from their perch just above his hair line to their proper place on his nose.
"Care to share the joke with the rest of the class?" Jack asked.
Daniel bent over and began to read:
Warning!
There was a moment of silence, then Jacob dipped his head.
"I do not see the humor," said Selmac. "Lack of common sense is spread reasonably evenly throughout the universe, making such labels necessary, is it not?"
After another dip of the head, Jacob resurfaced.
"I think you just had'a been there," he said.
"Oh, yeah!" said Jack. "Speaking of which, make sure to include your translation in your report, Daniel. We clearly violated that fourth one with Hathor's box. Hammond's gonna love that one!"
***************
I also have a humorous little vignette from my life to share with you all. It's a look into what makes parenting so rich, varied, and unpredictable.
Every year there is an agricultural fair that takes place not too far from here, and there are animals to see, blue ribbons to win for homegrown vegetables and homemade pies, cookies, and preserves, demonstrations of things such as blacksmithing, cheap souvenirs, artery clogging foods, a demolition derby, costumed country dancers, carnival rides, and all the sorts of things you would expect to find at such an event. All the local kids look forward to it from one year to the next. These days, since I need to fit my exercise in during the middle of the day, and I don't tend to be an early riser, usually Beloved Husband takes the kids to the fair while I get that out of the way, and they clog their arteries with all the food I can't eat, go on as many rides as Beloved Husband will spring for, and return, full, happy, and clutching some cheap, garish, not-long-for-this-world prizes and souvenirs.
One year they came back with a goldfish, but that is another story for another time.
This year, unfortunately, the Whirlwind has been inclined to get wild and out-of-control with little warning, and when she does this she sometimes runs away from us. My husband was on call that weekend, and although he could go to the fair with his beeper on Sunday, when it went off, he would have to stop and take out our Tracfone and call the answering service and then the patient. He felt that given the Whirlwind's unpredictability, going with her to the fair while on call was just not possible.
So Saturday morning before he had to go in to see patients until mid-afternoon, while having breakfast with the Whirlwind (Middle Daughter, her Sleeping Over Friend, and I were all still fast asleep), he gently broke the news to her that there would be no trip to the fair this year. Things did not go well.
Whirlwind began to shriek and cry. This was a total disaster in her small nine year old world. Her whole nervous system went into OMG!Apocalypse! mode, and she went screaming, wailing, and running up the stairs, where she burst into the bedroom where the girls were sleeping, to spread the news of the calamity.
Middle Daughter more or less opened one bleary eye, used Highly Inappropriate Language, rolled over, and went back to sleep. Sleeping Over Friend, less accustomed to siblings of nine years (hers are 14 and 2) sat up in bed, said "Whirlwind, I will kill you!", lay back down in the bed, rolled over and went back to sleep.
Whirlwind, nervous system still at full bore, took Sleeping Over Friend all too seriously, and called 911. Then she calmed a bit, and by the time the call was answered, she had decided this was probably a Bad Idea and hung up, and reported the death threat to her father instead.
911 called back. Beloved Husband answered. While he was trying to explain what had happened to the 911 operator, the Whirlwind was audible in the back ground yelling "But she said she would KILL me!" 911 finally accepted Beloved Husband's version of events, but said that the police might call to check it out.
Beloved Husband woke me up, told me the story of his morning from between gritted teeth, and headed off to work. I got up and re-read the Riot Act to the Whirlwind. The police did not call back.
I was mid-way through my breakfast, and the big girls were starting theirs when the Whirlwind, who is better than a watchdog for announcing new arrivals, said "There's a police car in the driveway!"
By the time I got to the doorway, that was not quite accurate. There were two. One officer came to the door. His body language was... a mite tense. I opened the door.
"There really is no emergency, officer," I said. "My daughter has ADHD, and—"
His whole body relaxed. I told him the story. I apologized. I was just finishing up, when the second officer came to the door. The first officer turned to him.
"Her little girl has ADHD," he said, and the other officer relaxed too. Apparently calling 911 is a symptom. Who knew.
After chit-chatting some more, the officer said "Would you like me to come in and talk to her?"
I got an evil grin that would have done the Grinch proud.
"Please do!" I said.
Both officers trooped in. The first officer accepted and introduction and sternly lectured the Whirlwind on the necessity of keeping 911 free for true emergencies. Whirlwind was polite, and attentive, and promised that she understood what he was trying to say. Then second officer stepped in. He opened up his notebook, and took out his pen.
"What's your first name?" he said, sternly.
[solemnly] Whirlwind.
"How do you spell that?"
[quietly] W-H-I-R-L-W-I-N-D
"And your last name?"
"OurVeryCommonLastName."
He wrote that down.
"And your phone number and address?"
She gave that too.
Then: [very quietly] "Why do you need that?"
"For the record!" he said, and the two officers marched out as The Whirlwind was asking "Mom? What's a record?"
Meanwhile down at the health center, Beloved Husband was seeing a patient.
"I hope there's no trouble at your house, Doc. When I went past, there was two state trooper cars parked in your driveway!"
We may live in a small town, but life at our house is never dull!
***************
Sorry if I may have ruined anyone's illusion that life in the country is placid and slow-paced, but come on up to Vermont and spend your tourist dollars anyway. After all, there are some 255 towns in Vermont, and only one of them contains the Whirlwind!
a_loquita posted a lovely little (sam/jack) fiction involving ridiculous instructions, The World's Dumbest Instructions, to which I replied with a snippet of comment fic. In the replies to that the subject of warning labels came up, and that inspired this:Title: Caution. Coffee Is Hot.
Season: While Jacob and Selmac are blended, Daniel is alive, and Jack's a Colonel
Spoilers: Uh...No!
Warnings: Nope. And Fig? It's Certified Shipfree. Maybe even FairTrade.
Synopsis: It's a universal constant, along with death and taxes.
Jacob reached up to the keypad and entered the code that the Tok'ra operative had given him, and the heavy metal door at last split diagonally, retreating into the corners of its aperture. Beyond lay what they had come for — Ra's storehouse. It was vast beyond belief, stretching back for what seemed like acres of dimly-lit space, all of it crammed with a vast and varied assortment of crates and boxes, most with the glint of the gold that was so characteristic of Goa'uld décor.
"Wow!" said Jack. "Think this is where they put the Arc of the Covenant?"
"The films of George Lucas are superior to those of Steven Spielburg," said Teal'c.
Sam was silent, frowning down at a small device in her left hand. With her right hand she was entering commands, but to no avail.
"This is useless, sir." she said. "There's so much naquidah in here that it's off the scale in any direction I point it. Most Goa'uld technology runs on naquidah, so I guess it's not surprising."
Daniel was reading labels on the boxes deciding which one he wanted to investigate first.
Jack was just about to move into position behind him, all the better to startle him with a sudden barked reminder not to touch anything without permission, when Daniel burst into laughter.
It was some time before the archaeologist, surrounded by this time by his bemused team and one blended being, was able to wipe his streaming eyes and calm his breathing enough to make himself understood.
"It's a crate for a sarcophagus. Probably one that was no longer used because it was so old, because the writing is a very archaic form of Goa'uld. It has the manufacturer's wa-....[*giggles*]...war...[*sputtering giggles*]...warning label!" That last word, as he finally got all of it out, rose into a falsetto squeak as Daniel tried manfully, but unsuccessfully to get the whole of it said without relapsing into laughter.
He slipped slowly down to the floor this time, he was laughing so hard, but within a few minutes had almost fully recovered his composure, only to lose it again when he made the mistake of looking up and catching the mystified and concerned expressions of his friends.
Finally, when his cheeks and belly were aching from the strain, and the sleeves of his jacket were covered with wet splotches from wiping his streaming eyes, he ran out of steam and grew quiet. Teal'c helped him to his feet, and Jack reached over and gently slid his glasses from their perch just above his hair line to their proper place on his nose.
"Care to share the joke with the rest of the class?" Jack asked.
Daniel bent over and began to read:
Warning!
- Read all instructions before using sarcophagus.
- Improper sarcophagus use may result in improper resurrection.
- Never use your sarcophagus in or around water, as water can damage the mechanisms if the casing is in less than optimal condition, and resurrection under water may lead to drowning
- Do not use the sarcophagus during battle, as stray weapons fire may result in an overload, with resultant explosions.
- Never place severed limbs that do not belong to the deceased in the sarcophagus. Such limbs will be rejected within a few days of resurrection.
- The sarcophagus is designed to regenerate, restore, and re-animate flesh, whether animal, unas, human, or Goa'uld. It is not designed for clothing, and if your God is placed within while wearing damaged vestments, you must be prepared with new robes to be donned upon resurrection. Occasionally clothing with no synthetic materials may restore successfully, but this is rare.
- Do not place a favored pet in the sarcophagus with his master or mistress. Results will not be satisfactory. First tend to the needs of your God. The pet may be revived in a separate cycle.
- For satisfactory results, at least 95% of all brain matter must be present, and Khnum Industries cannot be held responsible for the loss of any memories following brain injury and placement in this device.
- Although it has become common in recent times to place pleasing herbs in the sarcophagus to provide a pleasant experience upon resurrection, certain plants, such as Valtarian pinks, and benuf berries have pleasant scents while dried, but are extremely pungent when fresh. Herbs must be chosen with care if you are not to displease your god.
- Use of this device by those in perfect health is reserved for your God. Do not place any other healthy persons in the sarcophagus without your God's express permission.
- Although this device is capable of functioning in the vacuum of space, care must be taken to ensure that there is sufficient atmosphere present to sustain life when the cycle completes.
- BE SURE ALL BODY PARTS ARE PRESENT BEFORE STARTING CYCLE. The sarcophagus does not have an "undo" function.
There was a moment of silence, then Jacob dipped his head.
"I do not see the humor," said Selmac. "Lack of common sense is spread reasonably evenly throughout the universe, making such labels necessary, is it not?"
After another dip of the head, Jacob resurfaced.
"I think you just had'a been there," he said.
"Oh, yeah!" said Jack. "Speaking of which, make sure to include your translation in your report, Daniel. We clearly violated that fourth one with Hathor's box. Hammond's gonna love that one!"
***************
I also have a humorous little vignette from my life to share with you all. It's a look into what makes parenting so rich, varied, and unpredictable.
Every year there is an agricultural fair that takes place not too far from here, and there are animals to see, blue ribbons to win for homegrown vegetables and homemade pies, cookies, and preserves, demonstrations of things such as blacksmithing, cheap souvenirs, artery clogging foods, a demolition derby, costumed country dancers, carnival rides, and all the sorts of things you would expect to find at such an event. All the local kids look forward to it from one year to the next. These days, since I need to fit my exercise in during the middle of the day, and I don't tend to be an early riser, usually Beloved Husband takes the kids to the fair while I get that out of the way, and they clog their arteries with all the food I can't eat, go on as many rides as Beloved Husband will spring for, and return, full, happy, and clutching some cheap, garish, not-long-for-this-world prizes and souvenirs.
One year they came back with a goldfish, but that is another story for another time.
This year, unfortunately, the Whirlwind has been inclined to get wild and out-of-control with little warning, and when she does this she sometimes runs away from us. My husband was on call that weekend, and although he could go to the fair with his beeper on Sunday, when it went off, he would have to stop and take out our Tracfone and call the answering service and then the patient. He felt that given the Whirlwind's unpredictability, going with her to the fair while on call was just not possible.
So Saturday morning before he had to go in to see patients until mid-afternoon, while having breakfast with the Whirlwind (Middle Daughter, her Sleeping Over Friend, and I were all still fast asleep), he gently broke the news to her that there would be no trip to the fair this year. Things did not go well.
Whirlwind began to shriek and cry. This was a total disaster in her small nine year old world. Her whole nervous system went into OMG!Apocalypse! mode, and she went screaming, wailing, and running up the stairs, where she burst into the bedroom where the girls were sleeping, to spread the news of the calamity.
Middle Daughter more or less opened one bleary eye, used Highly Inappropriate Language, rolled over, and went back to sleep. Sleeping Over Friend, less accustomed to siblings of nine years (hers are 14 and 2) sat up in bed, said "Whirlwind, I will kill you!", lay back down in the bed, rolled over and went back to sleep.
Whirlwind, nervous system still at full bore, took Sleeping Over Friend all too seriously, and called 911. Then she calmed a bit, and by the time the call was answered, she had decided this was probably a Bad Idea and hung up, and reported the death threat to her father instead.
911 called back. Beloved Husband answered. While he was trying to explain what had happened to the 911 operator, the Whirlwind was audible in the back ground yelling "But she said she would KILL me!" 911 finally accepted Beloved Husband's version of events, but said that the police might call to check it out.
Beloved Husband woke me up, told me the story of his morning from between gritted teeth, and headed off to work. I got up and re-read the Riot Act to the Whirlwind. The police did not call back.
I was mid-way through my breakfast, and the big girls were starting theirs when the Whirlwind, who is better than a watchdog for announcing new arrivals, said "There's a police car in the driveway!"
By the time I got to the doorway, that was not quite accurate. There were two. One officer came to the door. His body language was... a mite tense. I opened the door.
"There really is no emergency, officer," I said. "My daughter has ADHD, and—"
His whole body relaxed. I told him the story. I apologized. I was just finishing up, when the second officer came to the door. The first officer turned to him.
"Her little girl has ADHD," he said, and the other officer relaxed too. Apparently calling 911 is a symptom. Who knew.
After chit-chatting some more, the officer said "Would you like me to come in and talk to her?"
I got an evil grin that would have done the Grinch proud.
"Please do!" I said.
Both officers trooped in. The first officer accepted and introduction and sternly lectured the Whirlwind on the necessity of keeping 911 free for true emergencies. Whirlwind was polite, and attentive, and promised that she understood what he was trying to say. Then second officer stepped in. He opened up his notebook, and took out his pen.
"What's your first name?" he said, sternly.
[solemnly] Whirlwind.
"How do you spell that?"
[quietly] W-H-I-R-L-W-I-N-D
"And your last name?"
"OurVeryCommonLastName."
He wrote that down.
"And your phone number and address?"
She gave that too.
Then: [very quietly] "Why do you need that?"
"For the record!" he said, and the two officers marched out as The Whirlwind was asking "Mom? What's a record?"
Meanwhile down at the health center, Beloved Husband was seeing a patient.
"I hope there's no trouble at your house, Doc. When I went past, there was two state trooper cars parked in your driveway!"
We may live in a small town, but life at our house is never dull!
***************
Sorry if I may have ruined anyone's illusion that life in the country is placid and slow-paced, but come on up to Vermont and spend your tourist dollars anyway. After all, there are some 255 towns in Vermont, and only one of them contains the Whirlwind!
no subject
Date: 2011-10-10 02:53 pm (UTC)Best bit: the explanation for how Daniel's BDUs were magically fixed in Skaara's sarc. Although I do question that BDUs don't contain any synthetics...
A cute, fun fic. Truly, some things are universal!