{"id":12,"date":"2011-06-23T19:52:02","date_gmt":"2011-06-23T19:52:02","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/?p=12"},"modified":"2011-06-23T20:03:51","modified_gmt":"2011-06-23T20:03:51","slug":"fic-the-princess-crack-sga-mcshep-rated-r","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/2011\/06\/fic-the-princess-crack-sga-mcshep-rated-r\/","title":{"rendered":"Fic: The Princess Crack – SGA – McShep – Rated: R"},"content":{"rendered":"

Title:<\/strong> The Princess Crack
\nAuthors:<\/strong> squidgiepdx and elderwitty
\nFandom:<\/strong> SGA
\nPairing: <\/strong>John\/Rodney
\nRating: <\/strong>R for language.
\nWords: <\/strong>11,292
\nWarning: <\/strong>Don’t read if you’re offended by crack!fic.\u00a0 Or if you’ve read The Princess Bride<\/span>.\u00a0 Or watched the movie.\u00a0 Or any movie – ever.\u00a0 Or if\u00a0 you\u2019ve ever seen Stargate: Atlantis.\u00a0 Or read SGA fic.\u00a0 Or fic of any fandom.\u00a0 Or books – English, Esperanto, or other.\u00a0 If you respect: the English language, the Pope, that guy on the corner who screams when you pass, or the creepy feeling you get going up the creaky stairs at night even thought you tell yourself that it’s just the stairs and not someone with an eggbeater waiting to flatten your souffl\u00e9 and glue hair on your chickens\u2026 don\u2019t read this.\u00a0 Really, for the love of all things holy, this is the crackiest crack that ever cracked at a crack.\u00a0 Don’t say we didn’t warn you.\u00a0 We’re not all that nice to Kavanaugh and even take a swipe at Keller.\u00a0 Jewel’s a nice girl, but Keller\u2019s got it coming (only because the writers MarySued her at the end, though).\u00a0
\nSummary: <\/strong>The Princess Bride<\/span> on crack!(fic).\u00a0
\nFull-disclosure:
\n<\/strong>(squidgiepdx) I was the one who ate the dried macaroni pieces off our mother’s Mothers Day present when I was 6 years old.\u00a0 There.\u00a0 I finally got that off my chest.
\n(elderwitty)\u00a0 It was me who wrote in red felt tip on the discarded plastic part of the mustache comb blister pack.\u00a0 Sorry, Kirk.
\nNon-disclaimer: <\/strong> We own everything<\/em>.\u00a0 Oh, yeah.\u00a0 We own McKay and Sheppard, Ronon’s original hair (but not the S5WOMF), Kavanaugh’s whine, Carson’s accent, the sets, most of Northwest Canada, and every Stargate related idea from the beginning of time.\u00a0 Also?\u00a0 We\u2019ve built own functioning Stargate.\u00a0 Really!\u00a0 You wanna see? Okay, but no cameras, and you have to do your own sound effects.<\/p>\n

~*~*~<\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

When Rodney was born, the World’s Most Perfect Ass belonged to Lars L\u00fcnd\u00f8rf\u00efsk\u00ebbr\u00e4\u00fcn, a Norseman who fancied himself a Viking, even though their reign had ended a few hundred years earlier.\u00a0 Lars would often put on his silly, horny helmet and go out into his neighbors’ fields, reenacting the Battle of Clontarf with the sheep and the goats living in the pastures.\u00a0 His habit of doing lunges with a calf under each arm as preparation for “battle” should’ve guaranteed that his ass would wear the crown for decades, but Lars was caught in a compromising position with 8 pounds of freshly churned butter, whereupon his fate was sealed.\u00a0 After catching Lars and publicly shaming him, however, his fellow villagers’ health improved, since butter became taboo for decades.\u00a0 Any traveler who asked for it (because it did make a lovely addition to the yak-based soups and stews that were so common during this period) was looked upon with a stern eye, and run out of town. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Rodney, a curious child, was quickly rising through the ranks as he-<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Excuse me?”<\/p>\n

Yes?\u00a0 Who is that?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“It’s Rodney.\u00a0 But then again, you’re writing this so you knew<\/em> that. Dumbass.”<\/p>\n

Yes, Rodney, we’re getting to you.\u00a0 What do you want?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Okay, so Lars Lutefisk or whatever it was.\u00a0 You said what – a few hundred years after the reign of the Vikings?”<\/p>\n

Yes, Rodney.\u00a0 What does it matter?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Well, it matters to me.\u00a0 Okay?\u00a0 What year is it?”<\/p>\n

It’s medieval times, Rodney.\u00a0 You live in a hovel, with a pit for a toilet and a boy to tend the farm.\u00a0 Does it matter what year it is?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Rodney stands, arms folded in disdain and mouth turned down in a frown.\u00a0 The camera focuses on Rodney’s twenty-year-old ass, which is rocketing its way up the Most Perfect Ass<\/em> ladder even as we describe it in all its lush, biteable glory.\u00a0 “Year, please,” he demands.<\/p>\n

It’s, uh… \u00a01480?\u00a0 There.\u00a0 Are you happy?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Yes.\u00a0 Yes, I am.”\u00a0 The camera suddenly zooms out to reveal Rodney collecting his things.\u00a0 “Which way to Italy?”<\/p>\n

You’re in the imaginary land of Florin.\u00a0 Italy doesn’t exist here.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“What do you mean<\/em>, it doesn’t exist?\u00a0 You mean to tell me you’ve dropped me into the Renaissance, right when Leonardo is doing some of his most incredible work, and you put me in an imaginary land<\/em>?”\u00a0 He snorts disdainfully, frowning at the walls around him as he drops his meager belongings back on the rough-hewn board that acts as a kitchen counter in the fifteenth century.\u00a0 “Fine<\/em>.\u00a0 Whatever.\u00a0 Can we just get on with this ridiculous act?”<\/p>\n

The scene fades, and the Narrator begins again. <\/strong><\/p>\n

Rodney, a curious child, was quickly rising through the ranks as he-<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Do we have to start that<\/em> again?”<\/p>\n

It’s part of the plot, Rodney.\u00a0 It’s what we do. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Fine…”<\/p>\n

Rodneyacuriouschildwasquicklyrisingthroughtheranksashelearned everythingineverybook-<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Wait.\u00a0 Why are you talking so fast?”<\/p>\n

So you can’t interrupt me.\u00a0 Obviously that<\/span> plan failed.\u00a0 I’m starting over now – Be quiet. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Sooo…\u00a0 Rodney, a curious child, was quickly rising through the ranks as he learned everything in every book that he could read.\u00a0 He was a medieval nerd.\u00a0 His ever-bickering parents-<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Excuse me – why<\/em> do my parents always have to bicker?\u00a0 I mean SGA? \u00a0This story?\u00a0 Why?\u00a0 And while we’re at it, why am I the girl<\/em>?<\/p>\n

Rodney’s barrage of questions leaves the Narrator with escalating blood pressure.\u00a0 He sighs.\u00a0 Rodney?\u00a0 Did you even read the book?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“No.\u00a0 I think I saw part of the movie once.\u00a0 Seriously, why waste my time on some drivel when there’s-”<\/p>\n

Rodney!\u00a0 If you had read <\/em>The Princess Bride<\/span> like you were supposed to, you would have learned that Buttercup’s parents always fought.\u00a0 It was one of their favorite things to do.\u00a0 They even kept score.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Yes?\u00a0 So what does this have to do with me?”<\/p>\n

::heavy sigh::\u00a0 Rodney?\u00a0 In SGA, did you not complain about your parents and how they argued?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Maybe…\u00a0 I can’t really remember right now.\u00a0 Stupid writers.\u00a0 And Brad Wright should be shot-”<\/p>\n

Out of a cannon! <\/em>::clears throat::\u00a0 Yes, we know.\u00a0 Well, anyway, the description of your parents’ bickering made an impression.\u00a0 At least in fanon.\u00a0 It’s all over the place out there.\u00a0 Just pick up any McShep story that deals with family, and invariably you’re ranting about something your parents did to you.\u00a0 I mean, in “Sheppard’s Law of Martyrdom” by pir8fancier you stuck toothpaste in your ears, for ancient deity’s sake, because your parents would not stop arguing.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Rodney looks outside and sees his parents tussling over who gets to throw the torch on the farm boy’s hovel this <\/em>month <\/em>(since today is the day chosen by Rodney’s marvelous random-number generator; a device made from dung and string and ceiling wax, and other farmhold stuff) and burn it to the ground.\u00a0 “Fair enough,” he concedes, before tuning in to hear his parents bicker.<\/p>\n

“It keeps him on his toes.”<\/p>\n

“No.\u00a0 I say it builds character.\u00a0 Strength through adversity and all that.”<\/p>\n

“Seriously?\u00a0 The only bit of dialogue we get in the whole bloody story, and you waste it on that<\/em>?<\/p>\n

Rodney drops his face into his hands, thereby missing a dark-haired youth running out of the burning hovel with all his belongings (he’s used to this sort of thing by now), patting out the small fires on his pants.\u00a0 It’s quite a sight to see, but Rodney doesn’t get to enjoy the gaping hole in the waistband of what look like ancient board shorts, and the furry, muscled flesh beneath.<\/p>\n

“What else should I know about this ‘Buttercup’ person?\u00a0 And you never said why I<\/em> have to play the girl.”<\/p>\n

Buttercup grew up much like you, Rodney.\u00a0 By the time she was your age, she was closing in on being the most beautiful woman in the world.\u00a0 I think she was beat out by some Indonesian gal or something like that, but that’s not important right now.\u00a0 Buttercup had two of the most perfect breasts-<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Breasts?” Rodney yells.\u00a0 “I don’t have breasts.”<\/p>\n

A slow, appreciative drawl comes from the doorway to Rodney’s hovel.\u00a0 “Sure you do.\u00a0 Just turn around, and look lower.”<\/p>\n

Who’s that there?!<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“John.\u00a0 You know; the Westley character.”<\/p>\n

Well, John, you’re not in this scene yet.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“I was just over there, putting out the fire in my pants.\u00a0 I had to find something<\/em> to do.”<\/p>\n

“Oh great.\u00a0 ‘Fire in his pants’?\u00a0 He’s my romantic interest, and that’s all he can come up with?”<\/p>\n

Rodney?\u00a0 Shut up.\u00a0 John?\u00a0 Go away.\u00a0 Your scene starts in a few minutes.\u00a0 Can we get on with this?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Fine<\/em>!” they declare in unison and part ways.<\/p>\n

Where was I?\u00a0 Oh yes… Curious child, nerd, arguing parents.\u00a0 So anyway, as Rodney’s parents started to age, their health declined tremendously, though their argumentative natures remained as strong as ever.\u00a0 Rodney began helping around the hovel more and more; squatting to pick up vegetables from the field, or doing lunges while getting water from the well.\u00a0 Each stretch and strain of muscle worked a fine-tooth adjustment to his heart-shaped derriere, and moved him up the ladder of the ‘Most Perfect Ass’ roster. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

But Rodney wasn’t alone in this bleak medieval period.\u00a0 Long ago, his parents had taken in a young man named John-<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Salve!”<\/p>\n

Excuse me?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Salve!” John repeats, then adds, “It’s the traditional Roman greeting.\u00a0 You said this was medieval times, right?”<\/p>\n

No, John.\u00a0 Not Ancient<\/span> history.\u00a0 This isn’t rhymer23’s ‘The Fall of the Roman Empire’.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Yeah, well.\u00a0 You kinda stole the whole ‘breaking the fourth wall’ thing from her, you know?”<\/p>\n

Well, she was hardly the first to do it, you know.<\/em> ::mumbled parenthetical aside:: <\/strong>Sure, she was the one we stole it from, but only because she was the latest we’ve seen use that device. <\/em>::sigh::\u00a0 Okay, starting again.\u00a0 But Rodney wasn’t alone all that time.\u00a0 Long ago, his parents had taken in a young man named John.\u00a0 A Farm boy-<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Okay, so I’m a farm boy.\u00a0 But this doesn’t look like Iowa.\u00a0 There’s Rodney, but where’s Finn?\u00a0 Or is this before Finn?\u00a0 And aren’t I supposed to be a handyman, not a farm boy?”<\/p>\n

NO!\u00a0 This isn’t sheafrotherdon’s Iowa-verse.\u00a0 Didn’t you get that when Rodney’s parents set fire to your hovel and sent you leering at Rodney’s ass?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Yeah, well, I pretty much leer at Rodney’s ass in any McShep thing you folks write.\u00a0 That, and worship his itty bitty Rodney belly.”<\/p>\n

Rodney pipes up from around the corner.\u00a0 “Can we stop talking about my ass and other body parts for a while, please?”<\/p>\n

Shut up, Rodney.\u00a0 You’re not in this scene.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Yes, but you’re going to give me a complex.\u00a0 Or body dysmorphic syndrome or something.”<\/p>\n

You can’t have body dysmorphic syndrome because it hasn’t been invented yet.\u00a0 That’s not until 1886.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Well gravity<\/em> won’t be ‘invented<\/em>‘ until Sir Isaac Dumbass<\/em> sits under a tree and gets hit by an apple in the 1680s, or whatever the silly old wives tale is these days.\u00a0 But that doesn’t stop apples from falling out of trees and braining people, now does it?”<\/p>\n

Touch\u00e9.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

John and Rodney hiss insults at each other while the Narrator shuffles some papers, and Rodney’s parents resume acting like peasants on their deathbed.\u00a0 Still arguing.<\/p>\n

As I was saying – John was taken in to be the farm boy.\u00a0 His duties are to work with the animals, live in a hovel nearby, and see that Rodney’s every need is fulfilled.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Heh heh,” John tosses off a porny laugh and waggles his eyebrows at Rodney.\u00a0 “That means we’re having sex.”<\/p>\n

No it doesn’t!\u00a0 It means Rodney gets to boss you around, and you have to do what he tells you.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Ha ha!” Rodney barks, sounding a lot like a certain schoolboy from The Simpsons.\u00a0 “Farmboy?\u00a0 Fetch me that pail of water.”<\/p>\n

“Get it your damn self, Rodney!” John responds.<\/p>\n

::clears throat:: Excuse me, people.\u00a0 John?\u00a0 Follow the script.\u00a0 You’re supposed to say, ‘As you wish’.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Why?”<\/p>\n

Because that’s how the story’s written.\u00a0 Now do it.\u00a0 Rodney?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Rodney smirks at John.\u00a0 “Farmboy.\u00a0 Fetch me that pail of water.\u00a0 Now<\/em>.”<\/p>\n

John grits his teeth as his eyes cut to slits, staring death into the Fourth Wall POV.\u00a0 “As you wish,” he grinds out, before petulantly stomping off to fetch the water.<\/p>\n

As the years pass, the two become closer. \u00a0They work the farm together daily and spend evenings discussing what the future might bring, sharing their hopes and dreams.\u00a0 Rodney wishes for a star in the sky that can send death to a planet below and John wants a magic sword that can easily fend off anyone threatening them. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

One night Rodney asks John to pass the jerked squirrel meat, and John replies, as always, ‘As you wish.’\u00a0 A few days later Rodney asks John to check for evil minstrels and court jesters under his bed before he retires, and John replies, ‘As you wish.’\u00a0 It takes Rodney a while to realize that every time John says, ‘As you wish,’ he really means, ‘Look.\u00a0 I’m no good at talking about this stuff.\u00a0 But you’re really hot and you smell good – for medieval times – and I can’t stop gawking at your ass, so how about we get a little hovel of our own and, you know\u2026do it?’\u00a0 When this revelation hits, it fills Rodney with such overwhelming joy that he can’t help but call out to John, who’s just run out of his burning hovel holding all of his belongings.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Farmboy?\u00a0 Come here and kiss me!”<\/p>\n

John grins, abandons his meager worldly goods to the mud, and rubs his hands together.\u00a0 “Now we’re talking!”<\/p>\n

“Uh uh uh!” Rodney stops him with a finger to John’s lips.\u00a0 “What do we say?”<\/p>\n

John kicks the ground like an impatient child.\u00a0 “Fine.\u00a0 As you wish<\/em>.”<\/p>\n

John takes Rodney into his arms, dipping him slightly.\u00a0 Their lips meet, and had this been the Ming Dynasty in China, John would have recognized the fireworks going off in his brain.\u00a0 Instead, he just pictures massive clouds of fireflies dancing around the sky (like that really catchy song by Owl City), but the thought of fireflies suddenly makes him start to itch. \u00a0John’s never liked thinking about bugs.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

As he breaks off the kiss, John says, “Rodney?\u00a0 I must go make us a fortune so that we can have a farm of our own.\u00a0 With a hovel that’s sturdy and land that\u2019s fertile.\u00a0 And far away from your parents, so they can’t burn it down.”<\/p>\n

“But they’re nearly dead already,” Rodney says, pointing to the couple in a darkened back corner of the hut, far enough away that the casual reader can’t hear what they were arguing about (since they already said their lines on page 3).\u00a0 “Why not just take this place.”<\/p>\n

Because, Rodney, it’s not in the script.\u00a0 John must go out into the world and earn his money so that you can break free and finally be alone.\u00a0 Together.\u00a0 Together alone.\u00a0 Whatever.\u00a0 Anyway, John, say a passionate goodbye to your dearest love.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“See ya!”\u00a0 John declares and skips out the door.<\/p>\n

“See ya<\/em>?!?!\u00a0 I declare my undying love to that… that… idiot?\u00a0 And all he can say is ‘See ya?'”\u00a0 Rodney rolls his eyes.\u00a0 “This story doesn’t get any better, does it?”<\/p>\n

Sorry, no.\u00a0 Anyway, as John says goodbye to his dearest love, Rodney calls after him.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“But the world out there.\u00a0 It’s filled with dangerous things.\u00a0 Like pirates.\u00a0 And Vikings.\u00a0 And unsecured drilling platforms that leak oil and kill ocean life for thousands of miles in every direction.”<\/p>\n

Rodney bites his knuckle with angst. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

::beat::<\/strong><\/p>\n

Ahem.\u00a0 I said, Rodney bites his knuckle with angst. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Yes, yes, fine.”\u00a0 Rodney bites his knuckle, grimacing at the taste.\u00a0 “Happy now?”<\/p>\n

Yes.\u00a0 Thank you.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Rodney’s leaning against the door and gazing after John, who suddenly runs back to Rodney’s side, looking concerned.<\/p>\n

“What’s wrong?” Rodney asks.<\/p>\n

“The whole angsty knuckle biting thing.\u00a0 That, and I wanted to look at your ass one more time, so I can describe it – in great detail – to whichever pirate may take me captive.\u00a0 Who knows?\u00a0 It may just save my life.\u00a0 It worked for Westley.\u00a0 Here, turn around so I can get a really good look.”<\/p>\n

“Westley?” Rodney asks, not turning a whit.<\/p>\n

“You know,” John says, pulling a second-hand paperback out of the back pocket of his ancient board shorts; the ones with a hole in the waist that makes Rodney gape and ponder.\u00a0 “Westley.\u00a0 The guy my character’s based on.\u00a0 Didn’t you read the book?”<\/p>\n

Rodney’s eyes somehow narrow and roll simultaneously.\u00a0 “No<\/em>.\u00a0 I did not<\/em> read the book.\u00a0 When did you?”<\/p>\n

John jerks his chin up.\u00a0 “Back on page 3.\u00a0 He sent me away when I joined the story too soon.\u00a0 I had to find something<\/em> to do.”<\/p>\n

“You couldn’t<\/em> have read the whole book back there.\u00a0 Five years we were in Pegasus, and you never even got to Chapter Three of War and Peace<\/span>.”<\/p>\n

John tsks.\u00a0 “Have you<\/em> tried to read Tolstoy?\u00a0 Yeah, I thought not.\u00a0 This is a pretty easy read.\u00a0 Here.\u00a0 Take my copy.”\u00a0 With that, John sets out from the house again, skipping off towards adventure and pirates.<\/p>\n

“Aww…\u00a0 He does<\/em> love me.\u00a0 He gave me his book.”<\/p>\n

John turns back and calls to Rodney.\u00a0 “It’s true love, Rodney.\u00a0 True love and a perfect ass.\u00a0 Nothing can stop us, because there’s nothing the world loves more than a sappy love story or a hunky guy with a really hot ass.”\u00a0 As he disappears into the forest (the fire swamp lurking somewhere in the distance), he calls back, “And true love means I shall always come for you, Rodney.\u00a0 No matter what.”<\/p>\n

Rodney stands at the door, fingering the pages of the book before he realizes that he, and he alone, will be doing the chores for the farm now.\u00a0 There will be no farm boy to torture.\u00a0 No farm boy to plow the fields.\u00a0 To slop the pigs.\u00a0 To worm the horses. \u00a0To milk the cats.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Well, shit.”<\/p>\n

Though the work is done grudgingly, Rodney’s ass is toned and shaped with each chore.\u00a0 Soon he’s surpassing other heinies, unknowingly flying up the tuchus chart.\u00a0 On his thirty-fifth birthday, the fifth anniversary of John’s departure, a tall, dark man on a serious-looking horse nears their home.\u00a0 He dismounts and knocks on the hovel door, startling the parents awake and sending them into a bickering rage.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Yes?\u00a0 I’m over here,” Rodney calls from Farmboy’s former hovel that hasn’t burned to the ground in recent memory (since he sabotaged his random number generator to only go off on the 37th of the month).\u00a0 “I had to move out; they were making me totally insane.\u00a0 What can I do for you?”\u00a0 Rodney looked at the tall man, staring at the strange circular gold mark on his forehead.\u00a0 “Mister…”<\/p>\n

“Teal’c, the Count Rugen.\u00a0 You can \u2013 no, you will<\/strong> call me Teal’c, the Count Rugen. I’m here with news.”<\/p>\n

“Yes, yes.\u00a0 Get on with it.”<\/p>\n

“I was tasked to let you know this.\u00a0 Your Dear John’s boat was attacked four years ago by the Dread Pirate Roberts.\u00a0 I’m afraid that all were lost.”\u00a0 Teal’c, the Count Rugen surveys the slop farm, eyeing the sheep in the far pasture with interest.\u00a0 He winks at one, who starts to back away slowly.<\/p>\n

“Leave my sheep alone,” Rodney declares.\u00a0 “And, four years ago?\u00a0 Couldn’t you have told me – I don’t know – sometime sooner<\/em> than now?”<\/p>\n

“I’ve been very busy,” counters Teal’c, the Count Rugen, never taking his eyes off the sheep.\u00a0 “I’m a Count.\u00a0 Things to do, places to go.\u00a0 You know.\u00a0 Count-y things.”\u00a0 He ends his statement with an “Ah, ah, ah,” sounding like some sort of creature from a children’s television program. \u00a0Only way more creepy.<\/p>\n

“No, I don’t<\/em> know.\u00a0 I’ve been stuck on this shitpile for the last few years waiting for John to come back.\u00a0 I should have known<\/em> it.\u00a0 He always did have a crazy, suicidal streak.”\u00a0 Rodney bends over to pick up a stray piece of slop, giving Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122 a splendid view of his backside.\u00a0 “And now the prickly bastard’s died and left me here.\u00a0 Alone.”<\/p>\n

After a few moments contemplating what uses he could put that ass to, Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122–<\/p>\n

The authors can suddenly be heard having a spirited discussion behind the scenes. <\/strong><\/p>\n

I mean, seriously: Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122? <\/strong>(C’mon, you know it’s funny.)
\nWhere the hell did that come from? <\/strong>(Me.\u00a0 All me.)
\nDid we discuss this? <\/strong>(Yup.)
\nWhat?\u00a0 We did? <\/strong>(Yup.)
\nWhen?\u00a0 I don’t remember that. <\/strong>(A couple of weeks ago – you were home from work?)
\nOMFG, you mean when I was on Vicodin?\u00a0 Holy shit, I should know better than to answer the phone when I’m on Schedule III narcotics. <\/strong>(And I should really stop taking advantage of that.\u00a0 ::wicked grin::\u00a0 )
\nEh, fuck it.\u00a0 We’ll fix it in beta. <\/strong>(No, we won’t.\u00a0 ::winks at the readers::\u00a0 )<\/p>\n

Anyway, after a few moments contemplating what uses he could put that ass to, Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122 tucks his 70s style disco shirt (unbuttoned to the waist, the multiple sets of nipples peaking against the fabric) tighter into his pants, using the movement to cover the personal adjustment necessary after such thoughts.\u00a0 “What?\u00a0 It’s not like you’ll never love again.”<\/p>\n

Rodney rolls his eyes and looks to the skies, then asks, “Do I really<\/em> have to say it?”<\/p>\n

Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122 looks confused.\u00a0 “Who are you talking to?” he asks.<\/p>\n

“The Narrator,” Rodney responds, nodding his head upward.\u00a0 When Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122 widens his eyes, preparatory to denouncing him as a heretic, Rodney continues, “Oh shut up, or I’ll make him talk to you, too.”<\/p>\n

Yes, Rodney, you DO have to say it.\u00a0 You know, this could<\/span> be an SGA\/Silence of the Lambs crackfic crossover, and we could be playing ‘it put the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again’ right now.\u00a0 Comprende? <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Fine.”\u00a0 Rodney sighs and rolls his eyes again, before stating flatly, “I shall never love again.”\u00a0 After a few beats, Rodney looks up.\u00a0 “You know, I’m just not<\/em> the pining type.”<\/p>\n

That’s the story, Rodney.\u00a0 You have to pine.\u00a0 John’s ‘gone’.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Oh!\u00a0 Then he’s not really gone.\u00a0 Otherwise you wouldn’t have put quotes around the word ‘gone’.\u00a0 I’ll see him in a few paragraphs, I’m sure.”<\/p>\n

Fine.\u00a0 But you absolutely must pine, Rodney.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

After a few minutes of thinking, Rodney looks up.\u00a0 “How about I pine over the fact that I haven’t seen a computer in approximately forever?\u00a0 Or the sad state of educational opportunities here in the fifteenth century?\u00a0 The complete lack of indoor bathing and\/or toilet facilities?\u00a0 Or – wait – I know!\u00a0 How about the freaking abacus being tops in computing technology, and retaining that position for hundreds of years?<\/p>\n

Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122 opens his mouth, looks around, shuts it again.\u00a0 He pulls the reins on his steed and begins to head away from the farm.\u00a0 He stops after a few feet, taking another gander at Rodney’s truly spectacular backside.\u00a0 “You know, my Prince – Prince Lucius – is looking for a partner to help rule this land.\u00a0 Though it’s probably just a ruse to start a war with Guilder.\u00a0 Interested?”<\/p>\n

Rodney contemplates an interlude with a prince.\u00a0 “Well, I suppose I could do something that’ll get me out of this dump until John gets back.\u00a0 Sure.\u00a0 Why not?”\u00a0 As he gathers his things, he ducks into his parents’ hovel and screams, “I’m going with this Count guy.\u00a0 Go ahead and die, you miserable bastards.\u00a0 Don’t wait up!”<\/p>\n

The next eighteen pages of the book describe Rodney’s immersion into castle life.\u00a0 The following forty-seven pages detail attempts by Lucius to woo Rodney, as he has wooed others around him by playing at being a charming, wonderful guy.\u00a0 Lucius hadn’t counted on Rodney having moderate to severe allergies to ragweed, pollen and most Florin grasses, however, so the magical potion that he’s relied on in the past doesn’t work.\u00a0 Still, Rodney is fairly content in his situation.\u00a0 Prince Lucius was somehow even able to procure plans for da Vinci’s tank, scythed chariot, and giant crossbow.\u00a0 It seems that princes have really good connections – reaching even to Italy, nominally outside the make-believe world of Florin and Guilder.\u00a0 Rodney spends his time studying the plans and even making improvements, since he knows of John’s love for things that allow him to go fast (mid-1480s timeline notwithstanding) or protect Rodney’s beautiful ass.\u00a0 Most days, Rodney wanders out to the Prince’s orchards and reads under apple trees, dodging the genius-cidal fruit out of spite.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

After a good day of reading, he stands up and stretches before leaning over to pick up his book.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Excuse me, old woman?” a nasal voice calls.<\/p>\n

Rodney harrumphs and turns abruptly.\u00a0 “I’m a man.”<\/p>\n

Wait.\u00a0 What?\u00a0 No!\u00a0 Stop that!\u00a0 We’re not<\/span> doing that<\/span> Python sketch. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Whatever,” Rodney responds, glaring at the motley crew in front of him.\u00a0 “Who are you?\u00a0 And what do you want?”<\/p>\n

The man with the ponytail steps forward.\u00a0 “I am Kavanaugh, the Sicilian.\u00a0 This is Ronon,” he says, motioning to a giant man next to him, “He doesn’t talk much.\u00a0 And this is Teyla Montoya,” indicating the beautiful woman on his other side who is armed with a pair of fighting sticks.\u00a0 “Would you come with us, please?”<\/p>\n

“Why?”<\/p>\n

Rodney has every right to question the threesome.\u00a0 After all, the Thieves’ Forest hasn’t been culled in weeks.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Thank you, Narrator.\u00a0 Now why should I come with you, Kavanaugh?”<\/p>\n

“Because,” Kavanaugh starts, “We’re going to hand you over to the IOC.”<\/p>\n

“The IOC?”<\/p>\n

” The Iocane Oversight Council.”<\/p>\n

“Ooh, yes.\u00a0 That<\/em> IOC.\u00a0 And then what?”<\/p>\n

“We’re going to take you to Guilder, bash your head in, and dump you on their doorstep so that Prince Lucius can find you and start a war with Guilder.”<\/p>\n

“Wait.\u00a0 You’re going to dump me on Guilder’s front doorstep, and then what – how is Lucius supposed to find me before the Guilderians do?\u00a0 I mean, won’t I – I don’t know – start to smell<\/em> or something?”<\/p>\n

Kavanaugh sniffs himself, then his companions.\u00a0 “This is medieval times.\u00a0 Everybody smells.”<\/p>\n

“Fine.\u00a0 I’ll come with you.”\u00a0 Rodney hunches his shoulders as he nears the group.\u00a0 “Doesn’t matter.\u00a0 John’ll find me.”<\/p>\n

Kavanaugh nods to Ronon, who throws Rodney over one shoulder, carrying him firemen style.\u00a0 “I doubt that,” he declares with condescension.<\/p>\n

What Kavanaugh doesn’t realize:\u00a0 Ronon is entertaining thoughts of knocking him upside his head; Teyla is picturing running him through with her fighting sticks; and there is a man in black following them at a distance.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“See?” Rodney says.\u00a0 “Told you so.”\u00a0 This prompts Ronon to bounce Rodney on his shoulder, nearly crushing his spleen in the process.\u00a0 “Careful with me, you big ape.” Rodney yells, though his words go unheeded by the large Satedan.<\/p>\n

The four cross a large field, then cut across a corner of the fire swamp (where they meet an annoying young blonde doctor who is immediately pushed into a patch of lightning sand, not allowing her character to be developed beyond this sentence), all the while followed by the man in black.\u00a0 They board a ship and set sail for Guilder.\u00a0 The man in black gains on them with the help of an ingenious outboard motor (da Vinci’s designs for which were never discredited, so you can’t prove it didn’t really happen.\u00a0 So there, neener neener.) on his own vessel, and corners them on a small ledge at the foot of the Cliffs of Insanity.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“The Dread Pirate Roberts!” Kavanaugh exclaims.<\/p>\n

“The Dread Pirate Roberts!” Teyla exclaims.<\/p>\n

“Ugh,” Ronon grunts, sizing up the man in black and unceremoniously dumping Rodney on the ground.<\/p>\n

“John!\u00a0 I knew you would come,” says Rodney as soon as he gets a look at the pirate.<\/p>\n

John whips off the mask.\u00a0 “How did you know it was me?”<\/p>\n

Rodney clambers to his feet, puts his hands on his hips and cocks one at John.\u00a0 “Seriously?\u00a0 We lived together for what?\u00a0 Five years?\u00a0 And you lived in the next hovel over for fifteen years before that?\u00a0 I know<\/em> that hair.”<\/p>\n

John puts on a fake pout.\u00a0 “I just got it cut and styled.\u00a0 Found a new hair gel – which is hard to come by in this<\/em> day and age.\u00a0 I wasn’t sure you’d recognize me.”<\/p>\n

“You can call yourself The Dread Pirate Cowlick or whatever-”<\/p>\n

“Roberts,” John corrects him.<\/p>\n

“Fine.\u00a0 Cowlick.\u00a0 Bedhead.\u00a0 Whatever.\u00a0 The mask covered your eyes, not<\/em> your hair.”\u00a0 He rushes to John, and the criminal trio looks away while the pair catches up on five years of kisses.\u00a0 “I knew you would come back to me.”<\/p>\n

“Always, buddy,” John replies, kissing him deeply, again visualizing a cloud of fireflies, which makes him pull away from Rodney to scratch himself uncontrollably.<\/p>\n

“Are you done?” Teyla asks.\u00a0 “Or do you need more time?”<\/p>\n

“Naah, we’re good,” Rodney and John reply simultaneously.\u00a0 John notices Rodney giving him a thorough head-to-toe onceover.\u00a0 “I’ve been working out since I left.\u00a0 You like?”<\/p>\n

“Yeah, but I was looking at that.”\u00a0 Rodney motions to John’s clothes.\u00a0 “All black?\u00a0 Seriously?\u00a0 I’m never letting you dress yourself again.”<\/p>\n

With Rodney at his side, John thrusts his sword towards the three abductors.\u00a0 “What business have you with my true love?”<\/p>\n

Kavanaugh crosses his arms and smirks at John.\u00a0 “These two,” looking ridiculous as he tries to gesture to Ronon and Teyla with crossed arms, “are my hired goons.\u00a0 We captured Rodney for the Prince.\u00a0 He is to be murdered and dumped on the doorstep of Guilder so there can be war.”<\/p>\n

“Wait,” Rodney starts.\u00a0 “Murder first?\u00a0 Then dump me?\u00a0 Wouldn’t it be easier to take me there and then<\/em> murder me?\u00a0 I mean, at least that way you don’t have to keep carrying me around.”<\/p>\n

Kavanaugh starts to laugh, before cutting it short to squint at Rodney, who has suddenly proven to be ever-so-much-smarter than he.<\/p>\n

Before Kavanaugh can respond, John asks Teyla and Ronon,\u00a0 “Why are you with this buffoon?”<\/p>\n

Teyla’s eyes focus into the past as she relives a tortured memory.\u00a0 “I am earning money as a freelance terrorist.\u00a0 I’m saving so that I may take revenge on the besmircher of my father’s memory, blackened so many years ago<\/p>\n

Ronon grunts before admitting “Eeh.\u00a0 I haven’t killed anybody lately.\u00a0 I was bored.”\u00a0 He looks at Kavanaugh.\u00a0 “Oh, and I guess the money, too.”<\/p>\n

John puts the point of his sword to Kavanaugh’s throat.\u00a0 “Give me your purse.”<\/p>\n

“I don’t have a purse.\u00a0 I’m a dude<\/em>.\u00a0 Dudes don’t carry purses.”<\/p>\n

The narrator breaks in.\u00a0 Kavanaugh?\u00a0 Internal pockets are a modern invention; they used to be more external and less useful.\u00a0 You should know that it is the fashion of the day to carry a purse if you have money.\u00a0 Historical fact.\u00a0 We read it on Wikipedia, so it must<\/span> be true.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

A sly smile crosses John’s face.\u00a0 “Fine.\u00a0 I’ll do it the old fashioned way.\u00a0 Your money or your life.”\u00a0 His sword has scarcely lifted from Kavanaugh’s throat when a leather sack heavy with golden coins is tossed his way.\u00a0 “Thanks,” he says, sheathing his sword.\u00a0 “Teyla?\u00a0 Ronon?\u00a0 You’re with me now,” he says, handing them the loot.\u00a0 It only takes a second for their allegiance to change (indeed, they’re happy to no longer be bound to the boor), and they stride up next to Rodney and John.<\/p>\n

Kavanaugh watches the foursome nervously, whining as they make their way back to John’s boat.\u00a0 “You can’t just leave me here.\u00a0 That’s not fair!\u00a0 I’m a very important person!\u00a0 I’ll make sure the Prince hears about this.\u00a0 And the Count!\u00a0 And then I’ll complain to the IOC!\u00a0 And let me tell you-”<\/p>\n

“No, Kavanaugh,” John stops him, “let me<\/em> tell you<\/em>.”\u00a0 He pulls out a 9mm pistol and shoots Kavanaugh in the foot.<\/p>\n

Wait.\u00a0 What’s going on here?\u00a0 John?\u00a0 Did you just SHOOT Kavanaugh?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Yeaaah…” he sheepishly admits.\u00a0 “But he was<\/em> whining.\u00a0 A lot<\/em>!”<\/p>\n

Fair enough.\u00a0 But, c’mon \u2013 pistols weren’t invented until the 1800s, and the first 9mm was produced in Belgium in 1901.\u00a0 I’ll let it go because it’s Kavanaugh, but don’t do it again.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Fair enough?!?!” Kavanaugh exclaims.\u00a0 “How is this fair?\u00a0 This is the freakin’ middle ages?\u00a0 I’m probably going to get an infection and die.”<\/p>\n

“Ronon?” John asks, tilting his head Kavanaugh’s direction.\u00a0 Ronon picks up Kavanaugh and dumps him in his own boat.\u00a0 “Tell you what.\u00a0 We’ll point you at France.”<\/p>\n

“France?” Rodney asks.\u00a0 “I thought this was medieval make-believe land.”<\/p>\n

“Ixnay on the ake-believemay andlay, Odneyray.”<\/p>\n

“Great.\u00a0 Pig Latin.\u00a0 You realize the writers stole that<\/em> from rhymer23, too, yes?!”<\/p>\n

Hey, now.\u00a0 I’ll have you know that Pig Latin has been around since long<\/span> before rhymer23, or even Al Gore’s Internets.\u00a0 It dates back to the time of the RolyPoly Roman Empire.\u00a0 So there.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Play nice, you two,” John says before dropping a kiss on Rodney’s cheek.\u00a0 “I missed you, Buddy.”\u00a0 Turning back, he points his sword at the cringing Sicilian.\u00a0 “Now, Kavanaugh, do you want to sail toward France, or would you rather head out toward The Shrieking Eels?”<\/p>\n

Kavanaugh forgets his bleeding foot for a moment.\u00a0 “Shrieking eels?”\u00a0 He tsks snidely, throwing a sneer at John.\u00a0 “There are no shrieking eels out there.”<\/p>\n

“Uh, yeah – there are.\u00a0 You sailed right through \u2018em.\u00a0 They knew I was following so they kept quiet.\u00a0\u00a0 They like me.”\u00a0 He stares flatly at Kavanaugh and adds, “They don’t like you<\/em>.”<\/p>\n

With Kavanaugh thoroughly chastened, John goes on, “We’re going to aim your boat for France.\u00a0 I suggest you find a nice cheese maker there, preferably someone who makes a nice moldy blue cheese.\u00a0 Get yourself a big bucket of cheese, then stick your foot in it.\u00a0 Do that and I promise it won’t get infected.\u00a0 Ancient Pirate’s secret.”<\/p>\n

“Great,” Rodney says as Kavanaugh’s boat floats away.\u00a0 “I’m never eating cheese again.\u00a0 Ever.”<\/p>\n

Rodney’s statement isn’t true; he continues to appreciate a nice Gruyere with mutton.\u00a0 Though he should probably reconsider, if only for John’s sake, as they will be sharing a pit toilet for many years to come.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Seriously?”\u00a0 Rodney looks around at the three people staring at him, all thinking about his slightly spastic colon.\u00a0 “Must <\/em>we talk about my lactose intolerance?”<\/p>\n

In an effort to change the subject, John makes a suggestion.\u00a0 “How about we all go get a drink.\u00a0 Yes?”<\/p>\n

And there was much rejoicing.<\/p>\n

The quartet journey back to the Thieves’ Forest on the outskirts of the city of Florin with very few issues, notwithstanding the crazed looking man running towards a castle with what seemed to be a chalice serving as a beacon.\u00a0 They enter a tavern and approach the glowering man behind the bar.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Barkeep!” John calls.\u00a0 “Four ales, please.”\u00a0 He rummages in the pockets of his black pants, which seem to cling to his hips by some sort of magical spell, but comes up empty, having passed the purse to his new partners in crime.\u00a0 “Umm, Teyla?\u00a0 You buy the first round.”<\/p>\n

Teyla nods approvingly, though Ronon cocks his head to one side and squints.\u00a0 “Why do you<\/em> get to hold the money?”<\/p>\n

Before Teyla can respond, Rodney interjects, “Because you<\/em> would probably trade it for a handful of magical beans.\u00a0 Idiot.”<\/p>\n

Ronon turns his glare on Rodney while he considers that.\u00a0 Now he’ll have to come up with something else <\/em>to do with his share of the purse.\u00a0 He just hopes that fellow he met the morning before hooking up with Teyla and Kavanaugh won’t be too disappointed.\u00a0 Maybe he can introduce the magical beans guy to his friend Jack.<\/p>\n

For a few moments, the team looks around nervously, not sure what to say to each other without a pint or two in them.\u00a0 “Barkeep!” John repeats, more sharply this time.\u00a0 “Ales, please.”<\/p>\n

The ill-tempered and unwashed bartender turns to John, all the while keeping an eye on the oddly dressed people around them.\u00a0 He spits into the mug he’s holding and rubs it with a rag that’s seen better days; probably as a bandage on a wounded person’s syphilitic nether regions.<\/p>\n

“Gross!” Rodney condemns.\u00a0 “How<\/em> is that sanitary?”\u00a0 He looks around, noting the condition of everything else around him, then shrugs.\u00a0 After all, it is<\/em> medieval times.<\/p>\n

The bartender finally speaks.\u00a0 “We don’t serve your kind<\/em> here,” he says, spit-shining another glass.<\/p>\n

John is glaring at the barkeep when Rodney interjects, dope-slapping him upside the head.\u00a0 “Great.\u00a0 Of all the joints in all the make-believe lands, you<\/em> have to take me to Homophobies McBigots.\u00a0 Thanks.”<\/p>\n

“Shut up, Rodney,” John replies.<\/p>\n

Yes.\u00a0 Shut up, Rodney.\u00a0 That wasn’t even a good insult!<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Rodney sighs.\u00a0 “You can hardly blame me<\/em> for it.\u00a0 You<\/em> wrote the damn thing.”\u00a0 The Narrator slinks away quietly.\u00a0 “You want me to try again?\u00a0 How about… Bigot Barn?\u00a0 No?\u00a0 Asshole’s Alehouse?\u00a0 The Puckwit’s Fub?<\/p>\n

Fine, fine.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Rodney!\u00a0 Narrator!\u00a0 Shut up.”\u00a0 He turns to the barkeep.\u00a0 “What do you mean, you don’t serve our kind<\/em> here?\u00a0 It’ll be centuries before organized homophobia takes root.\u00a0 And-”<\/p>\n

“Not that<\/em> kind,” the bartender snorts.\u00a0 To emphasize his point, he grabs Miracle Radek, the nearest man at the bar and plants a wet and sloppy kiss on him.\u00a0 Drawing back, he takes a moment to chew the part of Radek’s MLT (mutton, lettuce and tomato) sandwich that he gained during the kiss.\u00a0 He swallows before continuing, ignoring Radek’s rant in some unintelligible foreign language, as well as the looks of disgust from his patrons and the small band in front of him.\u00a0\u00a0 “That<\/em> type,” he says, pointing towards the sky and causing the team to look up uncomprehendingly.\u00a0 “Narrator types.\u00a0 Don’t trust the lot of-”<\/p>\n

The scene fades briefly as the bartender grabs his throat, trying to speak, but unable to produce even the tiniest squeak. His character is suddenly rewritten to have been born without a voicebox, due to the various badgers, spotted beavers and mules that are suddenly thrust into his family heritage.\u00a0 Just goes to show, you DON’T fuck with the Narrator<\/span>!<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Once the scene resolidifies, John yells, “Barkeep,” making one last effort to get their ales as the newly mute barkeep drops his head dejectedly.\u00a0 As he pours the first glass, he sees men dressed vaguely like Nazis sneaking up behind John. Using an obviously well-practiced maneuver, the newcomers quickly surround the team, and before they can draw their weapons (or rather before Ronon, Teyla, and John can draw their weapons while John pulls Rodney behind him, copping a feel of Rodney’s perfect ass in the process – HONK! \u00a0HONK!) the team is disarmed.<\/p>\n

“The Genii?\u00a0 I hate<\/em> these guys,” Rodney says.\u00a0 “I hope they don’t capture us and force me to create a nuclear bomb out of, I don’t know.\u00a0 Dung and spit and leftover mutton.”\u00a0 He lifts his chin defiantly, adding,\u00a0 “Not that I couldn’t do it, you know.”<\/p>\n

“Not this time, McKay,” states the unnamed Genii redshirt (who’s actually wearing olive green, but is quite obviously doomed anyway).\u00a0 “You need to come with us.”<\/p>\n

As the team is frog-marched out of the tavern, John looks over at the barkeep.\u00a0 “You could have warned<\/em> us.”<\/p>\n

The bartender starts to speak, remembers the recent rewriting, erases the Special of the Day<\/em> board (Radek got the last MLT anyway) and writes, “I would<\/em> have, but your Narrator made me mute.”\u00a0 He points to it smugly.<\/p>\n

Since the team is now outside, they don’t see the Narrator’s hands appear behind the tavern.\u00a0 The sound of the roof being pulled off distracts them from the sight of the bartender being plucked from his bar and unceremoniously flicked like a faulty paper football towards the horizon.<\/p>\n

I told<\/span> you not to fuck with the Narrator!\u00a0 Bwahahahahaha!<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

The soldiers and team stop to discuss the strange movements of the roof (now returned to its regular station).\u00a0 “Do you hear that sound, Ronon?” Teyla asks.<\/p>\n

Ronon thinks back to the original Princess Bride<\/span> manuscript before replying, “Umm… Is it the sound of ultimate suffering?”<\/p>\n

“No,” she responds.\u00a0 “It’s the sound of a mute bartender screaming.”<\/p>\n

Their journey through the Thieves’ Forest is uneventful.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Hail!” the elderly Genii leader calls as they reach the portcullis.\u00a0 “Raise the gate and alert Count Teal’c that I have his prisoners.”<\/p>\n

A small window opens and a face peeks out.\u00a0 “Whom shall I say is calling, Sir?\u00a0 Also, please remember to always address him by the proper title – Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122”<\/p>\n

“My name isn’t important.\u00a0 It’s imperative that I turn these fugitives over to the Cou – er, Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122 right away.”<\/p>\n

The guardian rolls his eyes.\u00a0 “Surely you have a name.\u00a0 I have to say who it is or he’ll just tell me to take a message.”<\/p>\n

“Fine,” the man replies, shuffling his feet.\u00a0 “Tell him it’s Lars.\u00a0 Lars L\u00fcnd\u00f8rf\u00efsk\u00ebbr\u00e4\u00fcn.”<\/p>\n

The gatekeeper’s eyes grow big.\u00a0 “Lars L\u00fcnd\u00f8rf\u00efsk\u00ebbr\u00e4\u00fcn?\u00a0 Crap!\u00a0 I’ll go hide the butter.”\u00a0 He turns to someone hidden from view, and commands, “Give me two minutes to get to the kitchen before you let them in.”<\/p>\n

After the requisite two minutes pass, the portcullis clanks open.\u00a0 Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122 is standing in the middle of the room, white wispy disco shirt open to his pants, displaying his expansive chest.\u00a0 He looks like a cheap knockoff of Solid Gold Dancer Denny Terrio, himself a bad copy of Tony Manero from Staying Alive.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Teyla’s eyes narrow and her face grows cold.\u00a0 “The six-nippled man!”<\/p>\n

“Didn’t I tell you about him?” Rodney asks.\u00a0 Taking a precautionary step backward as Teyla shakes her head, he contritely adds, “Sorry!\u00a0 My bad.”<\/p>\n

“So,” Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122 begins.\u00a0 “You must be that Athosian brat I taught a lesson to all those years ago.”\u00a0 He smiles at the memory of the skill he used against a very young Teyla.<\/p>\n

“Yes,” she says defiantly.\u00a0 “And while I appreciate you teaching me how to do fivesies<\/em> at jacks, it is my father’s memory I’m more concerned about.”\u00a0 She spits at Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122’s feet and foreshadows, “I shall avenge his memory before this day is through!”<\/p>\n

“Yes…” The Count sneers, wiping his begobbed foot on a luckless guard.\u00a0 “You do that.”\u00a0 He continues with an evil chuckle, “That is, if you survive the pit of despair.”\u00a0 He turns to Lars and his fellow guards.\u00a0 “Give Rodney to me,” he commands, “for the Prince shall take his hand tonight.”\u00a0 With Rodney in his grasp, he orders, “Take the rest to the pit.\u00a0 They have an appointment with…the machines.”<\/p>\n

The guards tremble visibly, though John, Teyla and Ronon are stalwart in their defiance.\u00a0 “No machine can defeat us!” John cries as the three are manhandled from the room.<\/p>\n

Entering the pit of despair is a slow process, as their guards are very skittish.\u00a0 The prisoners are taken to a room that might be mistaken for an operating theater, if not for the lack of good light, sanitary conditions, and goodwill, along with the sets of stocks lined up waiting for victims.\u00a0 The guards hiss demands for speed at each other as they chain the trio’s feet and lean them one by one into the devices.\u00a0 John tries to fix the details of the stocks into his mind, so he can procure this exact model once they’ve escaped and rescued Rodney.\u00a0 The nice thing about this version is how it makes the ass stick out just-<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“You looking at my ass, Sheppard?” Ronon asks, breaking John’s concentration.<\/p>\n

“No, no,” he lies.\u00a0 “Just thinking about Rodney.”\u00a0 His thoughts turn back to the present situation.\u00a0 “Hey!\u00a0 Hey<\/em>!” he yells at the guard, “Watch the hair.”\u00a0 He settles into the stocks on his own terms, getting his position just right, wondering how he’ll have to modify the stocks so they don’t hurt Rodney’s back.\u00a0 He hopes Rodney will be okay with having a kink night more than once a week…<\/p>\n

His attention is drawn back to the room as the guards (who are wearing earmuffs though the pit is a sweltering 94 degrees) prepare to leave after hearing, “Two minutes” from someone outside.\u00a0 The quicker ones scurry off, passing on their way out…things…albino things with unseeing pink eyes and ears sewn shut on their way in.\u00a0 \u00a0“What the hell?” John shouts.<\/p>\n

“What?” John’s guard half-shouts.\u00a0 “Can’t hear you.\u00a0 Earmuffs.”<\/p>\n

John flips the guard the bird, which was quite different in medieval Florin.\u00a0 It was a two-handed affair that grew out of a night of shadow-puppet boredom.\u00a0 The thumbs were supposed to connect while the fingers spread out and flapped.\u00a0 When you added the “Caw!\u00a0 Caw!” sound effect it really made a lot of sense.\u00a0 But with his hands in the stocks, and a gruff in his throat (he’d have to remember to pad his stock so Rodney’s neck would be more comfy), he looked and sounded like a demented badger that had been kicked in the head one too many times as a child…cub…pup…\u00a0 Whatever you call a demented young badger.\u00a0 If badgers had horns.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

But I digress.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

The guard pulls an earmuff off.\u00a0 “What do you want?\u00a0 And how dare<\/em> you insult my heritage with that awful display of – whatever that was.”<\/p>\n

“What the hell is going on?” John asks, nodding toward the albino creatures who are moving three large glass-screened boxes into the room.\u00a0 “And what’s with these freaks<\/em>?”<\/p>\n

“Ooh, you’ll wish you were them soon enough.”\u00a0 As an odd, high-pitched voice comes from under one of the boxes and a light flickers in the glass, the guard’s eyes grow frightened.\u00a0 He quickly replaces his earmuff and runs from the room, sealing the three prisoners in with the blind, deaf, pigment-deficient workers.<\/p>\n

The box that emitted the first noise flickers again and an awful tune – music such as never been heard outside these walls – begins to play, followed by a booming voice intoning, “This week on The Jersey Shore\u2026<\/em>“.<\/p>\n

Ronon thrusts against his prison, desperately rocking back and forth.\u00a0 “What have you done to us, Sheppard?” he calls out in distress.<\/p>\n

All eyes focus on the second box as it sparks into existence just in time for a badly aging woman with very large hair to scream, “You betta check yo’self before you wreck yo’self!”, followed by an announcer threatening, “Tonight on the twelve hour marathon of The Real Housewives of Miami<\/em>-”<\/p>\n

Teyla’s eyes roll back into her head as she cries out, “I call upon the strength of the Ancestors.\u00a0 Please, make it stop<\/em>!”<\/p>\n

The third machine is turned on, an annoyingly perky brunette filling the screen.\u00a0 “Hi!\u00a0 I’m Rachel Ray.\u00a0 I hope you have an extra bottle of EVOO, because today we’re gonna need it!”<\/p>\n

John cocks his head and sees his team members trembling.\u00a0 “Come on people…\u00a0 It’s not that<\/em> bad.”\u00a0 He hears Ronon retch a few times before he projectile vomits, coming pretty close to the nearest box.\u00a0 “Jeez, buddy.\u00a0 That’s pretty harsh.”<\/p>\n

With tears streaming down her face, Teyla chokes out, “How is it you…you are not affected by this, John?”<\/p>\n

John shrugs.\u00a0 As much as he can while in the stocks, anyway.\u00a0 “I dunno.\u00a0 My mother was dead, and my dad was hardly ever home.\u00a0 I was pretty much raised by our housekeeper.\u00a0 She used to let me watch this stuff all the time.”\u00a0 He sighs, “I guess I’m immune.”<\/p>\n

Suddenly, the Narrator makes an appalling noise and bids you – Look!\u00a0 Look!\u00a0 Over there!\u00a0 Shiny!\u00a0 There… That should distract you enough to forget that we learned earlier in the story John was raised in a hovel on Rodney’s farm.\u00a0 That the whole ‘dead mother, absent father, sustained himself by eating Pixy Stix and Mallowbars, grew up watching Guiding Light<\/em>, Another World<\/em>, and other daytime drivel, then having his homework checked by a housekeeper before she tucked him into bed’ was just a cop-out that the writers took to make sure John wouldn’t be affected by a device (both electronic and plot-type)<\/strong> that won’t be invented for some five hundred and twenty-five years after this story takes place.\u00a0 Look! Shiny!\u00a0 The narrator waves his hands in a mesmeric fashion while intoning in his best Obi-wan Kenobi fashion, “This is not the story continuity you are looking for<\/em>.” <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Actually, you know what?\u00a0 This is a really good time to check in on Rodney.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Rodney allows his captors to lead him toward the castle, a building far grander (but no cleaner) than the hovel he grew up in.\u00a0 He knows he’s been cast in the part of the “maiden-to-be-rescued” for this reimagining, but if gets even a hint of John’s person being in actual danger, he has a plan to break free and get the others out \u2013 plotlines, conventions, and authors be damned!\u00a0 Meanwhile, he plays along to see how the other half lives.\u00a0 (He muses as he walks that it’s probably much closer to “the other 0.4%”.) \u00a0He tunes back in to hear one of the guards telling the other about the ZPM that was brought in for the wedding.\u00a0 “Wait, what?\u00a0 There’s a ZPM here?\u00a0 Take me to it, now!”<\/p>\n

“But, your bride-ness-” the hapless guard begins.<\/p>\n

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Rodney roars.<\/p>\n

“Yes, your br–uh, yes … sir?”<\/p>\n

“That’s better.”\u00a0 Rodney congratulates himself on nipping that nonsense in the bud while the guard stammers through an apology, followed by the excuse that he believes the Prince wants Rodney taken straight to his ‘bridal cha–er, uh, um, your dressing room for the wedding, sir’.<\/p>\n

“Oh, you and the Prince are besties?\u00a0 Discuss all his plans together, do you?\u00a0 I’m sure you two hang out in the evenings all the time.\u00a0 Why, it’s a wonder that it’s not you<\/em> heading for the altar.\u00a0 Except that, oh, wait – I’m his affianced!\u00a0 You have to do what I say, so take me to the ZPM!”<\/p>\n

Rodney can’t believe his luck as the thoroughly cowed guard (No, he wasn’t mooing. It means he was meek.\u00a0 I’m serious \u2013 you could look it up!\u00a0 But if you want, you can imagine him mooing. Go ahead; we’ll wait.\u00a0 Okay – better now?\u00a0 Back to it<\/em><\/strong>.) and his cohort lead the way to the ZPM Room.\u00a0 He’s heard since childhood of the power of the ZPM, and can’t wait to see one.\u00a0 Maybe he can even use it to help make good the escape he’s sure John is going to need any minute now.\u00a0 He’s still plotting contingencies and backup plans when they enter a dusty room filled with musical instruments.<\/p>\n

“What’s this?\u00a0 You morons brought me to the wrong room!”<\/p>\n

“N– no, ma’–sir,” the smellier guard stutters.\u00a0 “This is it. \u00a0My cousin Bernerd helped move them in.\u00a0 The man who runs it was very impressive.”<\/p>\n

“I don’t care if he was on fire,” Rodney snaps. \u00a0“There isn’t one thing in thing room that starts with a zed.”\u00a0 Seeing the blank (-er than usual) looks on their faces, he continues, “A zee, okay?\u00a0 Nothing in here starts with the letter zee!”<\/p>\n

“Um, see.\u00a0 Well, beggin’ Your Fianced’s pardon and all, but this whole thing together is the ZPM.\u00a0 The Great Symbaldi himself told me that he built it and he’s the only one in the world can make it work.\u00a0 Crave pardon again, Princes–SIR! but this is<\/em> the ZPM \u2013 with this he can play all four of these at the same time.”\u00a0 The shorter guard with the ridiculous mustache finishes up his explanation with what he clearly intends to be a courtly bow.<\/p>\n

Rodney stares in disbelief while he ponders the utter idiocy of the age he finds himself in.\u00a0 Finally, brain no longer in danger of exploding from exposure to so much stupidity, he finds his voice.\u00a0\u00a0 “So you’re telling me that the famous ZPM isn’t a power source?”<\/p>\n

The guards warily shake their heads.<\/p>\n

“And it’s not a weapon of any kind?”<\/p>\n

The guards, still shaking, each take a small step backward, toward the door.<\/p>\n

“Let me get this straight.\u00a0 The ZPM is a machine for playing multiple xylophones<\/em>?”<\/p>\n

The guards stop shaking and start nodding.\u00a0 Or, well, Smelly does.\u00a0 Mustachio keeps on shaking until Smelly jabs an elbow in his ribs.\u00a0 Their relief at making the Prince’s bride (to-be) understand shines on their faces.\u00a0 (Sure, it shines like a glowworm in a box around the corner in a cave, but still.\u00a0 Shining.)<\/p>\n

“So, the Xylophone Playing Machine is known as the ZPM<\/em>?\u00a0 Not the XPM<\/em>, as anyone with even a single brain cell would know is correct?”<\/p>\n

The guards tilt their heads like dogs hearing a high-pitched noise.\u00a0 (aka, twinch<\/em> \u2013 a very useful Sniglet.)<\/p>\n

Too disgusted to even try<\/em> educating them on the intricacies of the alphabet, Rodney commands the guards to take him to his room.\u00a0 On arriving, the pair crowds the door to get a glimpse of how the gentle folk sleep, but Rodney shuts the door firmly on them (and their smell and facial hair [and maybe a pinky toe]).\u00a0 Spying a huge vase of flowers on the dresser, he decides to read the card before throwing them out the window to appease his allergies.<\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/strong><\/strong><\/strong><\/strong>Dear Florin \u2013
\nCongratulations on your engagement.\u00a0 I hear your princess
\nhas a hot ass.\u00a0 Too bad he has to die.\u00a0 Have fun with the
\nhoneymoon and the assassination. \ud83d\ude42<\/strong>
\nSee you on the battlefield!\u00a0 Love \u2013
\nGuilder<\/strong><\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/strong><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n


\n<\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Rodney sighs as he pitches the blooms into the moat, hoping against hope that they might make it smell the tiniest bit less revolting.\u00a0 Great.\u00a0 Now he has to come up with a plan to save everybody’s ass, including his very hot, very own.<\/p>\n

And, now, we take you back to the Pit of Despair – as the camera focuses on Rachel Ray. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Today on the show, we’re going to bone a duck!” she declares, over the sounds of Ronon and Teyla vomiting uncontrollably.<\/p>\n

“Doesn’t she mean, debone<\/em> a duck?” John wonders absently.\u00a0 As the question hangs in the air, the woman onscreen picks up a bottle of thick yellow liquid and proceeds to do something so intimate to the duck with it that it’s immediately banned worldwide.<\/p>\n

“That’s it,” he declares.\u00a0 “We’re breaking out of here.”<\/p>\n

The escape method John uses involves such incredible incredibleness that it simply can’t be properly rendered in words.\u00a0 Suffice to say that it takes half an hour of noisy work (which doesn’t bother any of their captors, since they’re deaf, and the rhythmic properties of which seem to soothe Ronon and Teyla somewhat), before they break free.\u00a0 Equally inexplicable is the reason why the entire pit of despair is covered in a thin layer of blueberry juice.\u00a0 And that each person they encounter on their way out of the pit is exactly one inch shorter.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

The trio makes their way into the castle. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Okay, what’s the plan,” John asks.\u00a0 “Besides finding Rodney.”<\/p>\n

Teyla’s eyes glitter with anger.\u00a0 “I need to find the six-nippled man and enact my revenge for what he did to my father, oh, so many years ago.”<\/p>\n

“Yeah, you keep bringing that up.\u00a0 What’s all that about?” Ronon asks.<\/p>\n

Teyla takes a deep breath.\u00a0 “I come from a long line of toasters, and-”<\/p>\n

“Toasters<\/em>?” John asks.\u00a0 “You mean the little machines that-”<\/p>\n

Don’t say it, John.\u00a0 We covered your ass earlier with the Jedi mind trick.\u00a0 Don’t make us have to use it again.\u00a0 Teyla?\u00a0 Please continue.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Mine are a proud people, steeped in the ancient arts of service and honor.\u00a0 One morning Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122 appeared at my Father’s business, in desperate need of assistance.”\u00a0 Her voice tightens, sorrow tingeing her words.\u00a0 “My father went straight to work.\u00a0 He was a master at his craft; there was none better.”<\/p>\n

“So, he was a tradesmen,” John clarifies.\u00a0 “What was his trade?\u00a0 Swordmaking?\u00a0 Knifemaking?\u00a0 Carpentry?”<\/p>\n

“He cooked breakfasts.\u00a0 But his true passion – what really got him out of bed in the morning – was toast.\u00a0 He could move a piece of bread over the fire so that it toasted evenly.\u00a0 Crisp and tasty on the outside while still warm and chewy on the inside.\u00a0 He once had a crisis of faith when the town elders voted to move from yak-based butter to goat.\u00a0 I was forced to go live with my third cousin twice removed for a fortnight while Father rebuilt the entire kitchen in preparation…”<\/p>\n

John and Ronon glance at each other before turning back to Teyla.\u00a0 “So what happened with Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122?” John asks.<\/p>\n

A gentle tear traces down Teyla’s cheek as she resumes.\u00a0 “When I saw Father from the corner of my eye, I stepped away from the table, taking my jacks and thanking Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122 for imparting his knowledge of fivesies.\u00a0 I hid in a corner and watched as Father brought him a feast like no man had seen before or since.\u00a0 With two<\/em> kinds of toast and five different types of jam<\/em> – can you believe it?\u00a0 Some people called him crazy.\u00a0 You never<\/em> serve more than three choices of jam.\u00a0 But Father… Father knew best.\u00a0 He knew that if he could please the Count, we would be set for life.”\u00a0 Teyla daubed at her eyes, surreptitiously wiping her nose at the same time.\u00a0 She moved as if to hold Ronon’s arm for support, but it was actually just an excuse to scrub her disgusting hands on Ronon’s even dirtier shirt.<\/p>\n

Her eyes darkened as she recounted the next part of the tale.\u00a0 “Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122 ate and ate, while my father fretted in the corner.\u00a0 You see, he didn’t even touch<\/em> his toast.\u00a0 It just sat there on his plate.\u00a0 Mocking my father.\u00a0 The Count finally threw his napkin onto his plate, smearing it<\/em> with the five jams.\u00a0 When my father asked why he hadn’t touched it, the Count had the audacity<\/em> to claim that the toast was burnt.\u00a0 Burnt<\/em>!\u00a0 He demanded that it be removed from his bill.\u00a0 I watched, staring into my father’s eyes,” she chokes back a snot bubble, “and saw the exact moment that his world crumbled.\u00a0 Taken from him in an instant.\u00a0 He had nothing to live for anymore.\u00a0 After the Count left, my father said he had something important to do and sent me to my room to work on my butter-application technique.\u00a0 To my everlasting regret, I obeyed him without question.”<\/p>\n

“What happened?” John asked, throwing in a hand gesture to hurry Teyla up.\u00a0 After all, they still had to rescue Rodney.<\/p>\n

“Father sat down and wrote me a note, which was hard since all we had in our cottage were clay tablets.\u00a0 Every last dime was spent on toast development.\u00a0 Anyway, he told me he loved me, said that there was only one way to restore honor to our family name, and hoped that I would understand someday.\u00a0 I found him-” Teyla gasped, biting her knuckle (all angsty, like Rodney should have back on page six).\u00a0 “I found him face down in the toasting fire.\u00a0 Dead<\/em>!\u00a0 But that wasn’t even the worst part.”\u00a0 Neither Ronon nor John take the bait, so she continues, “He was burnt on<\/em> one side<\/em>!\u00a0 That is the ultimate disgrace for people from my village.”\u00a0 She leans over and blows her nose on a purple drapery that she had just realized was beside her.<\/p>\n

John and Ronon look at each other, wondering if the story is over, before Ronon suddenly says, “Dun dun dunnnnnnn<\/em>!” like the sting in the soundtrack of a noir film.<\/p>\n

Quick as a flash, Teyla grabs a knife from Ronon’s hair and holds it at his throat.\u00a0 “What was that<\/em> for?”<\/p>\n

“I dunno,” Ronon confesses.\u00a0 “Just seemed like it needed a sound effect or something.”\u00a0 She nods as she calmly hands the knife back.<\/p>\n

John hides his face in his hands and, like every reader still with us, wishes for the last fifteen minutes of his life back.\u00a0 He rolls his eyes and wipes his face, hoping to dislodge any signs of frustration found there.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“So, okay,” he drawls, looking at Teyla, “What was I saying?\u00a0 Oh yeah.\u00a0 What’s our plan?”<\/p>\n

“I must find the six-nippled man and-”<\/p>\n

“Yeah, yeah, we got that part.\u00a0 Now I<\/em> need to save Rodney.\u00a0 Ronon?\u00a0 What are you going to do?”<\/p>\n

Ronon skims the last few pages of the used paperback he’s been carrying around.\u00a0 “I don’t really know.\u00a0 Looks like I’m supposed to go find transportation of some sort.”\u00a0 He tosses the book over his shoulder, where it catches on the purple thing that Teyla just soiled and sticks briefly before sliding down the fabric in a manner far too disgusting to describe.<\/p>\n

“Okay.\u00a0 I’m going to go get Rodney.\u00a0 You,” he points at Ronon, “go find us transportation.\u00a0 You,” he points at Teyla, “go find Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122.”<\/p>\n

“Here I am<\/em>!” Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122 calls from the end of the hall.<\/p>\n

Teyla’s eyes narrow to slits.\u00a0 “I’ll be right back,” she promises before charging at the man.\u00a0 Upon reaching him, she cuts him with a look.\u00a0 “You know why I’m here, Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122.”<\/p>\n

“Whatever,” the tall man replies.\u00a0 “I’ve been on a gluten-free diet all my life.\u00a0 Didn’t your father know that?”\u00a0 When Teyla stands taller than she ever has, he adds weakly, “It was just<\/em> toast…”<\/p>\n

Rising up on her tippietoes to be eye level with the sniveling man, she leans in for the kill.\u00a0 “Your father was a hamster, and your mother smells of elderberries!” she hisses.\u00a0 She begins blowing raspberries at the traumatized man, beating the sides of her head, each slapping sound causing Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122 to cringe until something snaps.\u00a0 He grasps the tails of his shirt, crunches up his face in terror and runs off camera, crying like a…\u00a0 Like a…\u00a0 I don’t know.\u00a0 Something that’s really, really sad.\u00a0 And cowardly.<\/p>\n

Wait, wait, Teyla.\u00a0 You got that wrong.\u00a0 It’s your mother<\/span> was a hamster, and your father<\/span> smells of elderberries.\u00a0 Go out and come in again.\u00a0 I’m sure we can get Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122 back in here so we can redo it.\u00a0 Guess he’ll have to go to makeup for some touchups first, though.\u00a0 It’ll just-<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Teyla points the finger of admonishment at the Narrator.\u00a0 “No,” she says defiantly.\u00a0 “That was intentional.”<\/p>\n

But.\u00a0 But.\u00a0 The Pythonites! (*)\u00a0 They’re gonna-<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

She brandishes her F.o.A. once again.\u00a0 “No.\u00a0 I do not fear their hedgehog.”<\/p>\n

After a brief break to regain her composure, she returns to John’s side, noting that Ronon has already slipped off to fulfill his assignment.\u00a0 “Wow…\u00a0 I have been preparing for that confrontation my entire life.\u00a0 Now that it’s passed, I don’t know what to do.”<\/p>\n

John nods and pats Teyla’s shoulder as a gesture of support, but has no words of sage advice to offer.\u00a0 “Come on,” he says, pulling her back to reality.\u00a0 “Let’s go get Rodney.”<\/p>\n

The pair uses a house phone to call the front desk.\u00a0 “Yes.\u00a0 I’m… You know.\u00a0 That Count guy.\u00a0 What room are Prince Lucius and Rodney in, please?”<\/p>\n

They hear quick typing before the guest services coordinator informs them that, “They’re in the Honeymoon Suite.\u00a0 It’s on the same floor you’re on, Room 1150.\u00a0 They’re on their way back from the ceremony now, so you’d better hurry if you want to catch them before the wedding night starts.”<\/p>\n

“Thanks,” John replies before hanging up.<\/p>\n

They quickly find the room and tip the guards at the door to let them in.\u00a0 Teyla hides behind yet another purple tapestry while John lies on the bed, much like Westley at this part of <\/em>The Princess Bride<\/span>.\u00a0 They wait. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

And wait some more.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

And even longer.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Finally, there is movement at the door.\u00a0 “I’m never<\/em> eating bran muffins before a banquet ever again<\/em>,” Rodney says to the supposedly empty room.\u00a0 He crosses to his dressing table and idly fingers a knife he laid there earlier in the day, contemplating his fate.<\/p>\n

Rodney takes one last look at his perfect ass before picking up the knife.\u00a0 He holds it just below his right ass-cheek and tries to psyche himself up.\u00a0 He closes his eyes tightly and attempts to thrust the knife in, but stops at the last second.\u00a0 Time after time he wills himself to do it, only to repeatedly chicken out.<\/p>\n

“Turn around a little so I can get a better look at that ass,” John calls from the bed.<\/p>\n

“What the hell<\/em> is wrong with you?” Rodney demands.\u00a0 “I’ve been waiting for you to say your line.\u00a0 You think I didn’t notice you the second I walked in here?”\u00a0 When John throws an odd look at Rodney, he continues, “It’s your hair.\u00a0 I think it’s sentient<\/em> or something.\u00a0 It comes into a room five minutes before you do.”\u00a0 John laughs.\u00a0 “I knew you were here even before you did.”<\/p>\n

“As did I<\/em>!” a voice exclaims from the doorway.\u00a0 Prince Lucius stands there in full royal wedding regalia.\u00a0 “But you’re too late, Sheppard. \u00a0He’s mine.”<\/p>\n

“Oh, get over yourself, Lucius,” John retorts.\u00a0 “You two aren’t even married.”<\/p>\n

“Of course<\/em> we are,” the prince replies.\u00a0 “You think we get all dolled up in this formal crap for nothing?”<\/p>\n

“I can prove it,” John says.\u00a0 When Lucius raises disbelieving eyebrows, John calls out, “Narrator?”<\/p>\n

Yes, John?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

The trio looks towards the sound of the voice, and Teyla takes advantage of their distraction to blow her nose on the tapestry. \u00a0“Are Lucius and Rodney married?”<\/p>\n

No, John.\u00a0 But how did you know?<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

“Because the authors of this dreck<\/em> were too lazy to write the freaking wedding scene.\u00a0 That’s<\/em> why,” he replies.<\/p>\n

Once again, touch\u00e9.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Rodney regards the Prince.\u00a0 “You really are<\/em> an idiot, aren’t you?” Lucius nods before realizing what he’s agreeing with.\u00a0 “Sincerely, a first class idiot.”\u00a0 Rodney thinks for a moment.\u00a0 “No, wait a minute, I take it back.” He pauses briefly before declaring, “If an idiot and a moron had a baby, and that baby was dropped on its head – repeatedly – and<\/em> that child was hydrocephalic besides, the contents of its diaper would still have a higher IQ than you.”<\/p>\n

Teyla claps approval and John’s eyes grow wide.\u00a0 He enthuses, “Wow, buddy.\u00a0 That was pretty darn good!”\u00a0 Rodney preens.\u00a0 John snaps at the prince, “Lucius, we’re not through.”\u00a0 He raises his sword to Lucius’ neck and says, “To the pane!”<\/p>\n

The blood drains from Lucius’ face and stammers a reply.\u00a0 “I don’t like<\/em> pain.\u00a0 I mean, ask anybody.\u00a0 Ask Rodney-”<\/p>\n

“Not p-a-i-n, you asshole.\u00a0 P-a-n-e.”\u00a0 When Lucius doesn’t get a clue, John twitches his sword towards the glass.\u00a0 “Go over to the window<\/em>, dumbass.”<\/p>\n

“Ooh,” Lucius replies.\u00a0 “I can do that.”\u00a0 He looks out at what would be the rest of his wedding party (had a wedding taken place).\u00a0 Instead, he sees the dirty, barely literate huddled masses of his kingdom standing out his window.\u00a0 “Oh, my.\u00a0 This is bad,” he says, surveying the signs they’re holding up.\u00a0 Most of the placards have only a giant “X” on them.\u00a0 A few others have large arrows pointing to the few signs that do have actual words on them, like ‘Lucius Bad’.\u00a0 Or ‘Lucius Sux’.\u00a0 Or the most popular, variations on \u2018Ur ugly and yer mama dresses you funny’.\u00a0 The scene shakes Lucius to his core.\u00a0 He fiddles with his ruffled collar and cries out, “But…\u00a0 But…\u00a0 I picked out this suit myself<\/em>!”\u00a0 After leering at Rodney’s ass one final time, Lucius runs from the room in search of Teal’c,theCountRugen\u2122.\u00a0\u00a0 They end up enjoying a cathartic cry together.<\/p>\n

“Well,” John says.\u00a0 “That just about does it.”\u00a0 He glances out the window, hoping to see Ronon and their transport, but the courtyard is filled with villagers.\u00a0 They seem quite content to stay put, even after John calls out, “Come on, guys.\u00a0 We need this space clear.\u00a0 We’ve got a stunt to do, and then one last scene.\u00a0 Move back, willya?”<\/p>\n

Don’t worry, John.\u00a0 I got this.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

The sound of hooves on cobblestone clears a few villagers from the area below the castle windows.\u00a0 As Ronon nears, the twang of a Satedan blaster can be heard as he fires into the crowd, the rest of which disperses almost instantly.<\/p>\n

“Nice!”\u00a0 After a few minutes, John adds, “Thank you.”<\/p>\n

Don’t mention it.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

None of the three are that anxious to be the first to go out the window.\u00a0 As Teyla leans out to check her goal, John and Rodney give her a helpful push, sending her tumbling out the window.\u00a0 With her usual grace and favor, she lands upon her charge (though the animal looks more steer than steed) with nary a hair out of place.<\/p>\n

After witnessing her jolting landing, John winces at Rodney and Rodney winces back.\u00a0 They’re each instinctively cupping their balls protectively in their hands.\u00a0 “Umm,” John calls down.\u00a0 “We’ll take the stairs.”<\/p>\n

Once out in the Courtyard with their compatriots, lifting Rodney into his saddle and climbing onto his own beast alongside, John shares a round of glances with his compatriots.\u00a0 A glance that asks, ‘So what’s the plan for tomorrow?’<\/p>\n

John grabs something from his saddlebag and tells Rodney to stand up in his stirrups.\u00a0 Thinking he’s about to get ‘the kiss’ (the one the movie Grandpa describes as ‘the most perfect kiss of all time<\/em>‘), Rodney closes his eyes and leans closer to John.\u00a0 After a second of no contact he feels something brush past his ass.\u00a0 He opens his eyes and looks back as John settles an extra blanket on the saddle before patting it.\u00a0 “What the hell?”<\/p>\n

John smirks.\u00a0 “I have plans for that ass.\u00a0 I don’t want it bruised.”\u00a0 With the dirtiest leer that he can muster, he adds, “Yet.”<\/p>\n

He grabs a quick kiss from Rodney and prepares to lead them out through the castle gate.\u00a0 At that moment, a violent crowd (very like the one at the climax of Monty Python and the Holy Grail<\/em>) appears, armed with Spam, face-slapping fish, and stuffed dead parrots.\u00a0 John gets his tiny band out of there as swiftly as he can, and they count themselves lucky that either the silly walks or housecoats slow the unruly crowd tremendously.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

(*)\u00a0 Okay.\u00a0 So we would have explained it, but we figure those people who were going to get it, got it, and those that didn’t, stopped reading.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Title: The Princess Crack Authors: squidgiepdx and elderwitty Fandom: SGA Pairing: John\/Rodney Rating: R for language. Words: 11,292 Warning: Don’t read if you’re offended by crack!fic.\u00a0 Or if you’ve read The Princess Bride.\u00a0 Or watched the movie.\u00a0 Or any movie – ever.\u00a0 Or if\u00a0 you\u2019ve ever seen Stargate: Atlantis.\u00a0 Or read SGA fic.\u00a0 Or fic […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[11,9,10],"class_list":["post-12","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","tag-crack","tag-fic","tag-mcshep"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p2ZgDO-c","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=12"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":14,"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12\/revisions\/14"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=12"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=12"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.squidge.org\/walterh\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=12"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}