Drabbles
By Icka! M. Chif
"Now there's one." Will mused over a bottle of rum. "'Jack Sparrow'. It almost sounds made up. And isn't a 'sparrow' a type of bird?"
"Would you prefer it to be some other type of bird?" Jack slurred, raising an eyebrow. "Bullfinch perhaps? Or Egret? Wot about 'Captain Jack Swallow'?"
Between the rum and the usual slur to his voice, the last word sounded like 'Swallows'.
Will blinked.
Jack blinked.
Will opened his mouth.
Jack peered into his bottle of rum.
"Not a word lad, not a word."
"Couldn't think of a thing to say." Will shrugged innocently.
"Smart lad."
27 July 2003
"Did you hear the one about the Immortal who went around castrating his opponents?" The question was asked casually, coming out of the blue like so many of the oldest Immortals comments did.
"Wrong head, Methos." MacLeod groaned, grimacing as he not so subtly shifted to guard his privates. "Wrong Head. Please tell me you're joking."
"Of course," Methos smiled enigmatically, eyes sparkling with mischievous merriment that did nothing to reveal if he were telling the truth or not. "They never did discover what he did with the parts afterwards..."
MacLeod shot him a surly glare. "I hate Watcher humour."
30-07-04
Okay, that one sounded like a chicken squawk.
And he didn't care if this Adam Pierson was a linguist who could out-language Daniel, humans shouldn't be able to sound like deliriously deranged donkeys.
Even if Daniel's reply sounded like flutes tripping up a scale.
Jack O'Neil sighed, silently resigning himself to a long, perplexing day. At least they had found someone who could translate the text they needed. And he had company, Pierson's friend, a bored looking Scot named Duncan MacLeod. Jack motioned towards the two smug linguists. "You understand what they're saying?"
"Me?" MacLeod shrugged innocently. "I'm tongue tied,"
05-08-04
A little known fact around Stargate Command is that before the gate became functional, they approached a young grad student with an unusual proficiency in the dead languages named Adam Pierson.
Translations and unlocking the mysteries of the gate went well up until the point the scholar actually -saw- the gate.
Pierson took one look at it, tossed the papers behind him and walked out of the facility muttering something which, depending on who you talked to, translated roughly to 'what fools these mortals be' or 'no way in bloody hell'.
And thus began the recruitment of one Daniel Jackson.
04-09-04
"Sandburg! My office for a debriefing. Now!"
"Uh, no can do, Simon." Blair flashed a small quicksilver grin.
"Oh?" An eyebrow rose in question. "Care to explain why not, Sandburg?" The last word was drawn out like an insult.
"No briefs!" His grin grew wider. "Boxers!"
The moment stretched uncomfortably as the Captain of Major Crimes stared at the department’s curly haired observer. Blair's grin turned increasingly nervous under the perusal.
"Well, then." Simon drawled. "You'd better get your scrawny butt in here and answer some questions before those boxers of yours get turned into a thong."
"Right away, Captain."
18-09-04
"-I go out seal hunting with my best friend Tarka-"
"Ray."
"-But all I want to do is get into his parka-"
"Ray. Ray. RAY!"
"Huh?"
"You were singing, Ray."
Ray reviewed his actions and blinked. "Oh."
"What were you singing?"
"Um. Oh, it's some song I heard earlier. S'called 'I'm the Only Gay Eskimo I Know'."
Awkward silence filled the air.
"... Think the group's named 'Corky and the Juice Pigs'."
"Yes, well, I certainly do not pretend to understand the semantics of some of these American Pop Culture-"
"Frase?"
"Yes, Ray?"
"... Pretty sure the group's Canadian."
"Ah."
30-11-2004
Jack hated trees.
It wasn't the trees exactly; wood for building, fires and shade was good. It was the other stuff, like providing cover for enemy fire, the strange animals that dropped messy things and the toxic plants that sometimes mutated his team. And trees hid strange things in their depths.
Such as a tiny village made of mushrooms with screaming panicking residents.
Jack was beginning to hate mushrooms. Mushrooms were tree shaped, right? Right.
Daniel was on his belly, attempting to calmly talk to one.
"I'm Mutha Smurfin' Cursing Smurf. What the Smurf are you?"
Yeah.
Jack hated trees.
-fin-
30-03-05