SG1 driblet

'Bout 150 words. Dedicated to elke_tanzer, who in the course of conversation Sunday, reminded me that the intersection of SF/F and humor is what I love the best.


"Briefing"
by Apple Cameron, Sept 2003.


Briefing. Hour 5. Tok'ra and General Hammond, and Major Davis, and 3 uber-geeks from Area 51.

Jack's head had been in his hands, elbows on the table, for the preceding 45 minutes.

Hammond leaned back. "I think that's about it. People?"

Daniel lifted his pencil. "Um, I have a question."

"Ah, yes, the mating call of the wild archeaologist." came the voice from underneath that bowed head.

The conference table was, for the most part, silent. Carter looked down at her papers and noticeably bit her upper lip.

Even Teal'C suppressed a smile.

Jack looked up. "What?"

The colonel then proceeded to exchange a complicated series of non-verbal communications with Dr. Daniel Jackson. Carter and Teal'C could read most of it, but they stayed quiet.

Finally, Jack and Daniel turned toward the head of the table, wearing matching innocent looks.

Hammond spoke. "Moving along..."

Versaphile's Den. Dinner. DW talkage.

Picked up 4 Doctor Who books from her to skim for The Birthday Project™, *and* some parameters for what might make a pleasurable fic. Some of which will make things easier on me, I think.

Probably won't finish 'em all, but that's OK, we're just trying to give me enough of a sample to work with (and of course, her stated goal of X-treme Pimpage -- next on Fox!).

My big deal with writing characters is dialogue, so I came home with an audiodrama or two, too. Yaaaaaay.

Say...I just had a cute idea for a hornblower xover. Not doppleslash, I leave that to the experts. Hm. Hm. HM.

(And just in case the fic(s) suck(s), I'll probably bake a cake as well. What kind of cake do you like, oh Pimp of Pimps? I can make gingerbread from scratch if you want.)