Mealtime Challenge
TITLE: From The Perspective of Meatloaf
AUTHOR: amphetamine_47
RATING: A definite "G"
SPOILERS: Immediately after the events of "Bastille Day"
SUMMARY: Billy's trying not to be an idiot, Dee's being nice, and the meatloaf just wants to be eaten
NOTES: This is likely the strangest story I've ever written, and I think I'm definitely putting it in the "huh?" file. If I was on drugs, I promise I'd share.
From the perspective of the meatloaf, the poor boy was just simply brooding. The meatloaf, being meatloaf, was unable to console him...or even help him drown his sorrows. After all, who ever heard of drowning one's sorrows in meatloaf? Sayings, the meatloaf reflected, started for a reason. And meatloaf, whatever its other functions, was definitely not something to lose yourself in.
The meatloaf imagined that the young man wished the meatloaf were Ambrosia, and the meatloaf wished it could apologize. The meatloaf also recognized, however, the look of a man with a problem. The meatloaf yearned to assist the man in his efforts, but it looked like meatloaf would have to settle for being cut to bits and pushed around the plate...not even given the small comfort of being eaten.
"Stupid," the boy muttered at his tray, and the meatloaf couldn't help but agree. After all, why was the young man sitting here talking to his meatloaf when there was obviously something constructive he could be doing to fix whatever problem he was having? The meatloaf had no frame of reference, obviously, but imagined that the young man had to have SOMETHING he could be doing rather than sitting and glaring at his food. It was not, the meatloaf assured itself, the meatloaf's fault.
Both boy and meatloaf were startled by the appearance of another tray, and the boy dropped his fork in to the meatloaf (Ow) in surprise.
"Dualla!"
"Is anyone sitting here?"
"Yes! Uh, no, I mean...please," Billy motioned to the seat opposite him with something between a smile and a grimace.
Skittish young thing, isn't he, Dualla's meatloaf observed.
He's been sitting here for a good hour, Billy's meatloaf agreed, Hasn't taken a bite!
Awful! Unforgivable! The least he could do would be to extend a professional courtesy.
Couldn't agree more.
But the meatloaves fell silent as the humans began to speak--a nervous, stilted conversation that left the meatloaves wondering how humanity had ever progressed to the status of building Cylons and Battlestars without being able to conduct a proper conversation. After all, they reflected, how hard could it be? Honestly, if meatloaf could do it...
"I wanted to apologize," Billy said, pushing his tray away.
Ungrateful! started Dualla's meatloaf, but was quickly shushed by the other.
"Apologize?" Dee echoed, her voice oddly flat.
The meatloaves easily recognized this as a warning sign. Billy, however, hadn't a clue.
"Yes...yes. I uh...I didn't mean to insult you, or your culture, but I did, and I didn't mean to, really, but-"
She stared at him, utterly expressionless. He grew, if possible, even more nervous. The meatloaves tsked over the poor boy's lack of eloquence.
"I'd read about him, you know? Depending on the history book, Zarek was either-"
"Billy."
He shut up finally, looked up to see her staring tolerantly at him.
Sweet little thing, Billy's meatloaf observed, But she's got a bit of a temper.
Oh yes. She means well, though, and it's hardly her fault if they boy's not so clever.
"I know you didn't mean it."
"Oh," his shoulders slumped in relief, "oh, that's good."
"But you were still pretty much an idiot."
He blinked in surprise, looked up at her with such a puppy-dog face that Dualla found it hard to stay annoyed with him. Her meatloaf was utterly enchanted, deciding that the young man was simply naive and well-meaning, if a bit slow. If it could have, the meatloaf would have snuck to Billy's tray as in its opinion the poor boy was looking rather malnourished...
"I...I guess I deserved-"
"It's not your fault you were thrust in to this situation," Dee said quickly, spearing a piece of her meatloaf (who began a sonata about being eaten until the other, in annoyance at growing cold, shushed it yet again). "We're all just doing the best we can, and I guess we're all...learning."
What a lovely girl. Say something, you idiot, his meatloaf ordered.
"You're...great," Billy managed, and his meatloaf was disgusted. The boy really knew nothing at all about women.
"I know," Dee grinned, taking another bite. "You should eat, you know. It doesn't get better cold."
The meatloaves took umbrage to the professional slight, and Dualla's meatloaf wished a chill upon itself just for spite. Billy (finally, thought his meatloaf), took a bite, and smiled quickly at Dee.
"I am sorry," he said softly.
Dee reached across the table, covered her hand in his,
"I know."
They sat and ate the rest of the meal in silence, meatloaves reflecting upon the goodness of people (even those who let their food get cold and then expected it to taste perfectly). The meatloaves couldn't help notice the others in the mess hall, the knowing grins and shared looks at their table, and celebrated as best they were able. They were finally eaten, and when it was done Dualla took Billy to her quarters to lend him a book on Sagittarian history before he headed back to Colonial One.
The meatloaf, finally and happily in his belly, heartily approved.