Fic snippet meme
Swiped from kerravonsen, because I need some inspiration.
When you see this, post a little weensy excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.
1. As he approached the flight deck, he finally heard snatches of excited whispers: "Careful, you'll drop it!" That was Vila.
"Keep yer hair on, man, I'll nae drop it." And that was Jarriere. "Be quiet, now, or you'll wake Avon, and then we'll be in it."
Well, now. This was an interesting development. What were those fools up to now? Avon poked his head around the corner just enough to see Vila and Jarriere struggling with a mottled gray rock-like ovoid twice the size of Orac, as Soolin and Dayna entered the flight deck from the other direction.
"What are you doing?" asked Dayna suspiciously.
"Well, y'see--"
"Nothing," said Vila.
"That's a lot of nothing," said Soolin.
2. Scotch, Dave. The good stuff, and make it a double.
Thanks. Yep, I know it's early. But I'm drinking to Mondays. Mondays in Sunnydale, there's nothing quite like them.
You think you know. By the time you get to a certain point in life, you think you've got it down. Go to the best school you can afford, take the smartest classes you can handle, qualify for the best job, meet the right woman. Graduate, get a job with a career track, get married, settle down. You've got it made. Nothing can go wrong. You think? But then life throws you a Sunnydale Monday, and everything you know goes out the window.
3. If a beeper woke them in the middle of the night-something that happened far more often than was reasonable-it was usually hers. He didn't know who it was that called her; the curtain of her auburn hair blocked the caller ID from view, as if drawing a wall between their private lives and their work. It was an uncomfortable reminder of how little they knew about each other, even now.
When the beeper was his, it was worse. It was one thing for a computer consultant to go running off to deal with a midnight system meltdown, but quite another for an archaeological consultant to dash off for-what? A translation emergency? She never questioned him about it, but it still made him feel awkward and self-conscious. He hoped she didn't think there was somebody else, somewhere he'd rather be.
But tonight the 2 a.m. beeper was hers. He fumbled in the half-light for his glasses, wanting one last look at her before she left. It might be days or weeks before he saw her again.
They never had enough time.
"Sorry," she said, hastily pulling on her corduroys. "You know how these corporate types hate any computer down-time. It's always the end of the world." She dropped a kiss on his cheek, grabbed her travel bag, and dashed for the door. "Wish me luck with the world-saving."
I saved a world last week, he could have said, he wanted to say. But he didn't, because she didn't have the proper clearances, and she wouldn't believe him, anyway. "Good luck," he whispered to the closing door.
4. The man grasped Hoggle's hand with his huge one and shook it vigorously. "Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, at yer service."
Hoggle drew himself straight and tried to look more important than he felt. "Hoggle, caretaker of the Goblin King's labyrinth, at yours."
"Work for Jareth, do yeh? Yeh mus' be good to keep that job. But what's a dwarf doin' workin' fer goblins, if yeh don' mind me askin'?"
Ordinarily Hoggle would have minded a great deal, but the rare compliment was his weakness. He leaned close to Hagrid's great head. "Well, uh, between you and me, all the smart goblins go to work for Gringott's now. Jareth has to hire outsiders if he wants things done proper."
Hagrid chuckled. "Serves 'im right. Enough about that great idiot, though. What brings yeh this far?"
5. "Where are you going?" asked Wilson. "I'm parked over here."
"I think I can walk to the herbalist's at the other end of the block. I'm crippled, not paralyzed."
Wilson frowned and hurried to catch up. "There's no herbalist on this block."
"What are you, blind? You drive past it every time you come over." House shook his head but kept walking. "And they call me disabled."
"Oh, really? Where is it, then?"
House took a dozen more paces, stopped, and spun his cane directly to the right. "What do you see, oh eagle-eyed one?"
Wilson's eyes followed the pointing cane. "A wall."
House peered at the narrow window advertising 'Madder's Herbal Emporium', then cocked his head at Wilson. "Care to try again?"
Wilson pointed several feet to the left. "A bookstore." He pointed to the right. "A laundry." He pointed to the window. "A wall."
::sigh:: I wish they'd all just magically finish themselves, knowotImean?