milliways_bar | (no subject)

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John was in the bar, sitting at a booth, legs propped up on the table. He? Was in a very good mood. He had a cup of coffee, and a stack of blueberry pancakes and a woman he loved in his bed upstairs and life was just nice.

He was very botherable.

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"We here at Milliways are available for all of your funerary needs."

He says with a smirk.

"First, I'll need to write a note, explaining to Aeryn why I'm dead. She may come and kill you."

"There are worse ways to go, if your definition of Hot is true. I mean, better death by hot chick than by a million jillion ninjas.

Plus, I can think about Mel coming back to avenge me, and the HOT that will be her and Erin fighting each other.
...
OH! I wonder if I can put it in my will that they have to fight in pudding!"

"...I don't think we should really die. Let's fake our deaths and put it in our wills that Aeryn and Mel must fight to avenge us in pudding."

"I think you're my favorite person ever."

"The feeling is mutual my good...turtle." John grinned. "And then we can show up after they're done fighting...and reap the benefits."

"In disguise, of course."

"Yes. I'll be a pirate, and you can be a ninja." Grin.

"I think she'll see that coming. Maybe I should be the pirate, and you should be the ninja."

"I'm not very stealthy.." John frowned.

"No one's asking you to flip out of a shadow and kill guy, you'd just be in the black pajamas.
...
Unless you really want to flip out of a shadow and kill a guy, provided that guy isn't me."

John got a faraway look at the thought of being a ninja. "Nah, I like shooting things. Black pj's sound great."

"They're not as great as no-pajamas, but as work out gear goes they're pretty good. And far less humilating than diapers."

There's another reason they don't talk about The River Training sessions.....

"..." John looked at him. Strangely.

Perhaps his brain broke again.

"What?"

That's what they've always looked like to Mike.

"Diapers?"

"Yeah, like the ones Sumo Wrestlers wear."

"Oh! Right." He nodded. "Wow. Sorry."

"You were imagining me in Pampers, weren't you?"

He headtabled.

"Waugh."

Mike licks one of his fingers, and makes a slash-mark tally in mid-air.
There's even an accompanying sound effect to go with the handgesture.

"You suck." John said, muffled by the table.

"And when the farmboy said, You suck, he really mean, I love you."

Responds Peter Falk.

John threw a balled up napkin at him. "Nngh!!"

Mike snags the napkin out of the air, and unwads it.

"SO I guess you really don't want the right operate heavy machinery, do you?"