Imagine their surprise when they got Wordsworth on daffodils, delivered in a gruff monotone.
Teal'c's eyebrows achieved orbit, and he couldn't even manage "Indeed!"
Daniel showed a disturbing amount of semi-masticated powerbar as his mouth dropped open. He too was speechless for once.
Sam took one look at Jack's now twinkling eyes as he took in their reactions, and her eyes, which had been wide in startlement, suddenly found interest in the toes of her boots as she turned her head down to hide a spreading smile.
He certainly had an utterly unique way of yanking their chains. She felt the spreading warmth in her chest as she recognized this moment for what it was. When Jack did this sort of thing, it meant he was happy.
And she wondered once again. Had he been an English major?
Hammond gazed in confusion at the mess littering the floor of his 2IC's office. Were those... daffodils?!!!
From behind a large cardboard box marked "Flowers du Mall" came a muffled curse, and another yellow flower arched gracefully over the box and came to rest just in front of Hammond's feet.
Hammond looked at the flower, with its ripped petal, and tiptoed slowly out.
There were some things about Jack O'Neill that he simply did not want to understand. This, he thought, was one of them.
And then there's the bit that came to me as The Whirlwind and I were out doing our required 60 minutes of outdoor exercise for Passport To Winter Fun month. Gotta have something to occupy the mind as I do endless laps and she builds snowYodas.
Jack heard the approaching tread of shiny shoes, and put down the book. When he thought Hammond had had long enough to take in the scene, he muttered "Crap!" and tossed yet another ripped-petalled daffodil over the box, and took pen and daffodil in hand in case Hammond came closer. There was silence, and Hammond's tread moved away, more silently than it had come. Still, Jack trusted that Hammond had been better at stealth a few years and a few pounds ago in Vietnam.
Jack smiled. It had cost him a small fortune in daffodils, not to mention the cost of Walter's venti mochaccino, and it would have been still better if Hammond had rounded the desk to see Jack actually trying to inscribe Wordsworth on the petal, but it was all worth it to keep The Man off balance. Besides, who besides Cassie did he have to spend it on, anyway? It wasn't going to do him any good when he was gone.
He looked up as Dixon knocked on the doorframe as he entered, carrying a cardboard tray with a steaming Starbucks cappucino and Jack's large frappucino. He handed Jack the cup, and glanced about curiously.
"I gave Harriman his. What are you up to? I passed Hammond in the hall, and he warned me I might not want to come in here just now."
"Thanks," said Jack. "Nothing much. Just sticking it to The Man."
"Hammond? Why? He's a great C.O.! The best!"
"Yeah," Jack agreed. "That's why I just keep him confused. That old bastard West, I used to irritate the hell out of him, every chance I got."
Dixon's brow darkened.
"After what he did to you, I can't say I blame you. He should never have--"
Jack interrupted to correct him.
"At the time, I felt like it was a kindness," he said.
Well that sucked all the air out of the room at once. An uncomfortable silence drove both men to their drinks.
"Speaking of being the man, I hear you and the missus are gonna have a third," said Jack finally, the subject of children still uppermost in his mind.
"Yeah," said Dixon, pride and sheepishness chasing their way across his face. "I think we gotta find another method, and she's starting to mutter scary things about snipping!"
"Well, I'd recommend roses, but if these will help..."
Jack waved a hand to the box on his desk.
"Oh, man, Jack! There must be four dozen daffodils in there! And out of season! They're my wife's favorite! I just might get out this intact with these! Thanks buddy!"
"Think nothing of it," said Jack, and as Dixon took the box and his cappucino, and left, he picked up the book on his desk, still open to Wordsworth's poem. He'd had it memorized in high school, but that was more years ago than he cared to calculate now. He'd better refresh his memory, and with the UAV footage of tomorrow's mission and its golden field of flowers in mind, he began to relearn it.
Perfect screencap - he looks fully on the wind-up for this one. Makes me think of ye olde "trees" rant, which makes me think of this old standard vid by the dear hoodat whatzit, that introduced me to The Arrogant Worms so many years ago.
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I loved Shatner as Kirk, so this one is especially hilarious to me.
Thanks for the funny start to my day, as always!
Melissa M.
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http://lolmac.livejournal.com/322053.html
He Wandered Lonely As A Cloud...
Teal'c's eyebrows achieved orbit, and he couldn't even manage "Indeed!"
Daniel showed a disturbing amount of semi-masticated powerbar as his mouth dropped open. He too was speechless for once.
Sam took one look at Jack's now twinkling eyes as he took in their reactions, and her eyes, which had been wide in startlement, suddenly found interest in the toes of her boots as she turned her head down to hide a spreading smile.
He certainly had an utterly unique way of yanking their chains. She felt the spreading warmth in her chest as she recognized this moment for what it was. When Jack did this sort of thing, it meant he was happy.
And she wondered once again. Had he been an English major?
Re: He Wandered Cloudy As A Loon . . .
Re: He Wandered Cloudy As A Loon . . .
From behind a large cardboard box marked "Flowers du Mall" came a muffled curse, and another yellow flower arched gracefully over the box and came to rest just in front of Hammond's feet.
Hammond looked at the flower, with its ripped petal, and tiptoed slowly out.
There were some things about Jack O'Neill that he simply did not want to understand. This, he thought, was one of them.
Re: He Clouded Loony As A Wand . . .
Re: He Wandered Cloudy As A Loon . . .
Jack heard the approaching tread of shiny shoes, and put down the book. When he thought Hammond had had long enough to take in the scene, he muttered "Crap!" and tossed yet another ripped-petalled daffodil over the box, and took pen and daffodil in hand in case Hammond came closer. There was silence, and Hammond's tread moved away, more silently than it had come. Still, Jack trusted that Hammond had been better at stealth a few years and a few pounds ago in Vietnam.
Jack smiled. It had cost him a small fortune in daffodils, not to mention the cost of Walter's venti mochaccino, and it would have been still better if Hammond had rounded the desk to see Jack actually trying to inscribe Wordsworth on the petal, but it was all worth it to keep The Man off balance. Besides, who besides Cassie did he have to spend it on, anyway? It wasn't going to do him any good when he was gone.
He looked up as Dixon knocked on the doorframe as he entered, carrying a cardboard tray with a steaming Starbucks cappucino and Jack's large frappucino. He handed Jack the cup, and glanced about curiously.
"I gave Harriman his. What are you up to? I passed Hammond in the hall, and he warned me I might not want to come in here just now."
"Thanks," said Jack. "Nothing much. Just sticking it to The Man."
"Hammond? Why? He's a great C.O.! The best!"
"Yeah," Jack agreed. "That's why I just keep him confused. That old bastard West, I used to irritate the hell out of him, every chance I got."
Dixon's brow darkened.
"After what he did to you, I can't say I blame you. He should never have--"
Jack interrupted to correct him.
"At the time, I felt like it was a kindness," he said.
Well that sucked all the air out of the room at once. An uncomfortable silence drove both men to their drinks.
"Speaking of being the man, I hear you and the missus are gonna have a third," said Jack finally, the subject of children still uppermost in his mind.
"Yeah," said Dixon, pride and sheepishness chasing their way across his face. "I think we gotta find another method, and she's starting to mutter scary things about snipping!"
"Well, I'd recommend roses, but if these will help..."
Jack waved a hand to the box on his desk.
"Oh, man, Jack! There must be four dozen daffodils in there! And out of season! They're my wife's favorite! I just might get out this intact with these! Thanks buddy!"
"Think nothing of it," said Jack, and as Dixon took the box and his cappucino, and left, he picked up the book on his desk, still open to Wordsworth's poem. He'd had it memorized in high school, but that was more years ago than he cared to calculate now. He'd better refresh his memory, and with the UAV footage of tomorrow's mission and its golden field of flowers in mind, he began to relearn it.
Re: He Wandered Cloudy As A Loon . . .
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Makes me think of ye olde "trees" rant, which makes me think of this old standard vid by the dear hoodat whatzit, that introduced me to The Arrogant Worms so many years ago.
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