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RASPBERRIES

Summary:

Mary Sue Multiverse where several authors kidnap various characters and do weird, strange and sometimes mean things to them. IF you really want to know, read it.

Work Text:

Titles: Raspberries
Authors:. By Roy's Lady 51
Series/Sequels: Raspberries
Warnings: Some Bathroom Humor
Pairing: Jim/Blair
Fandom: The Sentinel
Summary: "Not gonna tell ya. You'll just haveta read it, if ya ain't already.
Disclaimer: WE ain't made no dough on it, nor any money, either. However, if you think you want to stand up in court, in PUBLIC, and be told THERE that S.S.I., Food stamps, AND Medicaid are all federal programs of which the benefits are Non-Transferable, and thereby make a total ass out of not only yourself but your legal department, AND the board of directors... be my guest. This is something I'd LOVE to get to watch! (I'm equally certain that any cops in or near the courtroom would be equally entertained!)

Warning: Drabble/Humor attacked while listening to Fleetwood Mac's Greatest Hits CD. I therefore refuse responsibility for my actions...

 

Raspberries
(September 2002)

"Christ, Sandburg...what the hell have you been eating?" Simon Banks asked in disgust at the sound of a rather loud fart that seemed to echo forever in the conference room. Rafe was regarding the student in awe, there was a look of respect on H.'s face as well. Simon stared as the kid belched. It was huge, it literally bounced off the walls.

"Just the normal style lunch around here, Simon." Came the answer. "Ask Rafe, he brought it."

"Brian...just what the hell did you feed this guy?"

"Fried hard salami...why? You eat it!"

"What do you mean, why?" Simon was hit by a wall of pure hell in the form of almost visible gas. He hadn't heard a thing... "Damn it, Sandburg! What the hell was that?" He choked, gasping as he yanked the door open. "No more, people! From now on, Blair will be choosing our lunches. If that's what that shit does to him, I'd rather not know what it's doing to me!" He snapped even as Blair bellowed out another loud burp. It smelled worse than the fart.

Everyone's eyes were watering, their noses were trying desperately to run away, and Blair just sat there ripping out one gas cloud after another. He had warned Jim, of course, and Ellison had elected to eat elsewhere.

"No more, Sandburg...here. Take this, please, take this!" Brian Rafe pleaded as he held out a bottle of Mylanta. "Christ...."

"Oh yeah," H. put in, in gas caused tears of nasal pain. "I wished to God I had never offered the idea of farting contests as a form of male bonding!"

"You WHAT?" Simon nearly screamed. "You know good and damned well he'd never really believe that crap! You knew he'd do something like this to find out! Oh God, we'll never get the smell out of that conference room!"

Blair swallowed a good stout mouthful of the stuff as he walked toward the elevator. He didn't want to stink up his car or the loft, after all. He still didn't quite understand the awe that had been in Brian's eyes, or the respect in H.'s...and Simon had only complained of the smell. He hadn't said a word about the social acceptability of the belching or farts themselves.

Blair shrugged, and just accepted his new status as King.

End Part One

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