Parody…
Thing
Rated PG
*****
Jack dragged
his feet as he walked into Sam's lab, his head hung low and his dark eyes
looking dejected. "Baby, honey, sweetie," he moaned in agony.
"Just
a minute, dearie, while I reprogram all of NASA's
satellites so they won't notice the Prometheus when it sets down in our back
yard for the bar-b-que tomorrow." Sam tapped on
her laptop with lightning speed. The lightning arced from her fingers into the
computer, which promptly went "Zzzt."
"Damn
it. Not again." Sam began rebooting.
Jack moaned
again. Sam paused what she was doing and glanced at him, her sky-blue eyes
reflecting concern. After all, it *had* been over two hours since they'd last
had sex. He *was* probably suffering. "What's wrong, honeybuns?"
"You
know how Kinsey is president now?" Jack whined, his brown eyes looking
really sad.
"Yeah." Okay, it wasn't sex. Sam began to lose interest. She trained her
sea-blue eyes back on the computer and fiddled, doing Very Important Things.
Jack's
chocolate eyes oozed remorse. "He found the pardon that the other
president gave us and... and...," he wiped his
eyes. That remorse was kinda sticky.
"You
mean the one where he declared that we love each other sooooo
much, we have the right to have hot monkey sex any
time we want? The one we celebrated at his request by having hot monkey sex in
front of him on the desk in the Oval Office?" Sam always thought that
president had an ulterior motive for signing the pardon. Her aquamarine eyes
looked suspicious. So did the rest of her body parts. Except her elbows,
because no matter how hard they try, elbows aren't all that expressive. But
everything else looked suspicious.
Jack
groaned. "He rescinded the pardon and annulled our marriage!" His
dirt brown eyes, not like red dirt or tan dirt or gray dirt, like good brown
dirt that grows really nice radishes, that kind of dirt brown eyes, well, they
looked really really sad. Downright upset, actually.
Sam gasped
in horror and clutched a fist to her chest. She rushed to his arms. She then
rushed to the rest of him, which wasn't far from his arms. "But, but
darling sweetums, what will we do? Where will we go?
How will we manage?" Here she took a really really
big, dramatic breath, which was a good thing because she paused a really really long time for dramatic effect even though it wasn't
needed, and then she when she couldn't hold her breath any longer, she burst
out, "What will we do about Daniela! And Frasier! And Homer! And our sweet
little Teal'c'a! What will we do about our
quadruplets?"
*****
The end, 'cause what can follow
that?
*****
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