Absofragginglutely
Title: Absofragginglutely
Author: Rowen
Fandom: Babylon 5
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Most of this is set right before the second season episode 'The Long Twighlight Struggle' (although the last scene occurs just after).
Synopsis: Garibaldi assists Ambassor Delenn in her exploration of an important human custom.
Pairing: ---
Genre: Humor
Disclaimer: Babylon 5 is not mine. Never was, never will be.
Notes: Roses to Kathleen for beta-reading this baby and for her great feedback.
This story was written somewhere between 1993 and 1997.
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The pizza box lay on the coffee table, the contents long gone cold and soggy. Beside it, propped inelegantly on the glass surface, rested Michael Garibaldi's booted feet. His eyes were half closed, as he lounged back against the sofa cushions with a glass of chilled juice in hand.
This was bliss. He stretched out, soaking in the blessedly silent ambience of his quarters. The station was quiet, all the bad guys were tucked safely in their holding cells, and he'd had three hours, three completely *undisturbed* hours, all to himself. He could make a habit of this...
.
The door chime. Great.
"You had do go and think it, didn't you Michael," he muttered to himself. "You couldn't just lie back and enjoy it.... *No* you had to *think* about it." He sighed, removing his boots from the table and assuming a more dignified position.
"Come."
His visitor entered uncertainly. He had half expected it to be Sheridan or Ivanova or Stephen or Zack. It was however none of these, instead the slim, graceful figure of Delenn stepped into the room.
"Ambassador," he rose quickly to his feet. "Is something wrong?"
"No, not at all Mr. Garibaldi." She paused far enough inside so that the door would swing shut behind her, casting a quick gaze at the remains of the pizza. "I am sorry - I did not intend to disturb your evening meal."
"No, I finished long ago - just hadn't got around to cleaning up yet." He fumbled with the box, embarrassed that she had seen him slobbing, and swept the whole thing into the disposal unit of the kitchenette.
"Please sit down. Can I get you something to drink? Juice? Water?" It was clear the Minbari Ambassador had some weighty matter on her mind she wished to discuss.
"Some juice, perhaps?" she requested, seating herself gracefully on the couch.
He rifled through his cupboard for a glass, discretely checking to see if it was clean before filling it.
"So what can I do for you?" he asked, handing the drink to her and sitting on the other end of the couch. "Have you come to watch some more 'Duck Dodgers'? I managed to get my hands on a couple of great ones the other day." It wasn't the most elegant way of breaking the tension, but it worked, for Delenn smiled demurely, sipping at her juice.
"Actually, since you were of such help in assisting me in my study of Earth humor, I thought I might be able to turn to you for advice in some further study of human customs."
"Of course, Ambassador, I'd be glad to help you in any way I can," he agreed cheerfully, though feeling a little wary. When Delenn decided she wanted to study something, she was pretty single-minded about the business. "So, what do you want to know? Our fascination with sports? What sort of music we like? Culinary arts?" he took a swig of his drink.
"Swearing."
Garibaldi froze - juice in mouth - unsure he had heard correctly. After a moment he swallowed with some effort.
"Excuse me?" he must of misheard, he thought she'd said -
"Swearing."
"Swearing," he repeated stupidly.
"Yes, swearing." Delenn looked a trifle flustered. "It seems to be a relevant part of your language - one with which I have had limited experience and no opportunity to practice."
"You want me to teach you to swear?" God, this was surreal. For a moment he wondered if Ivanova had put her up to this as some sort of bizarre revenge scheme, but then dismissed the idea: Delenn would not be party to such a plan.
"OK," he said slowly, "What exactly do you want to know about swearing?"
"The appropriate times at which to swear, which words should be used..." she spread her small hands in an encompassing gesture. "I have studied your language extensively, but there are so many contradictions when it comes to this particular form of expression that I thought it might be simpler to ask. I can speak to someone else about it, if you are too busy."
"No, that's fine Ambassador," he assured her. "I'll do what I can, although you'd probably be better off speaking to someone who actually teaches languages." Actually, on second thought, maybe that wasn't such a good idea. He didn't really want Delenn running all over the station asking people about swearing.
"You are my friend, Mr Garibaldi. I trust you."
Garibaldi took a breath. 'It could have been worse, Michael,' he told himself. 'At least she hasn't come asking you about the birds and the bees.' He regarded her politely eager expression with a hint of trepidation and kissed the rest of his quiet evening away: it looked like this might take a while.
"All right." He ran his hand across his scalp, then took another sip of juice. Where to start?
"Perhaps we should do a comparison," he suggested.
"A comparison of what?" Delenn asked, following Garibaldi's lead and sipping at her drink.
"Well... for instance..." He cast his mind about for something that would be common to both cultures. "OK. Say if you were walking around your quarters without shoes on..."
"One always wears shoes in one's quarters," Delenn interrupted. "It would be inconsiderate - not to mention disrespectful - not to do so, in case one had an unexpected guest."
This was going to be harder than he thought, though he filed that handy tip away for future reference: always wear shoes when Minbari come-a-calling.
"What about when you go to bed?" he asked. "You don't wear shoes then, do you?" Great doing, Michael, asking the Minbari Ambassador what she wears to bed. What will you ask next: whether she buttons, then zips?
"No." Delenn shook her head.
"All right, you've prepared for bed, so you have your shoes off, and you're just about to climb in when you accidentally kick your toe hard into a piece of furniture."
"That would be very clumsy," Delenn frowned. "A Minbari would be more aware of their personal space."
Michael mentally banged his head on a hard surface. Delenn might look relatively human, but she almost seemed to be going out of her way to be excessively Minbari tonight.
"Well, just pretend," he said patiently, taking another sip. "What might you say?"
Delenn tilted her head to one side as if seriously considering the scenario.
"V'shar"
Good, we're getting somewhere. "And that means?"
"'Ouch' - approximately."
Garibaldi was glad he'd swallowed - he would have sprayed his mouthful across half the room if he hadn't. Even still, he strained not to laugh. Ouch. Oh, dammit, that was just too funny.
A chuckle burst forth.
Delenn regarded him with guileless green eyes.
"That is funny?"
"Sorta... Sorry Ambassador, I didn't mean to laugh. It's just been one of those days." He wiped his eyes.
"'Ouch.' OK. Now, if *I * were in that situation, I guess I'd probably say 'dammit,' or 'bloody hell,' or 'crap,' or 'shit,' depending on what sort of mood I was in - how bad my day had been. That sort of thing."
"You do not have one particular word that would be used?"
"Nope. Swearing's a pretty personal thing - people use different words depending on their up-bringing and personality."
Delenn frowned. "'Crap?' 'Shit?'"
Oh dear. "I... uhh... A lot of human swearing is heavily influenced by bodily functions," he said, staring at his hands. Be grateful you didn't add f**k to that list, Michael, or you'd be trying to explain why humans used a term for intercourse as a swear word.
"Oh." She thought about it for a moment. "And this 'shit' is...?"
Oh God, how do I put this? "It's... uhmm..." God, why hadn't she gone and asked Susan or someone? "It's solid waste that is excreted from the body," he said in a rush before he could think too much more about it.
"I see."
At least she didn't look offended.
"'Crap' is a more socially acceptable way of saying 'shit,'" he hurried on.
She nodded. "What about 'dammit?' I looked it up in the language files. Damn meant: to condemn, to ruin or eternal punishment in hell." She regarded him with a puzzled expression. "Why would you wish to condemn something to eternal punishment in hell simply for kicking your toe?"
She had to be having him on, right? She wasn't *that* literal about her translations... He didn't sink his head into his hands, but he did sigh.
"I don't think I'm cut out to be a teacher, Ambassador: I think I may be making things worse."
"On the contrary, Mr. Garibaldi," she disagreed. "You are helping to facilitate understanding between our peoples. Which is one of the major directives of the charter for Babylon 5, is it not?"
"Yeah, but I don't think they had lessons in Intergalactic swearing in mind when that was drafted."
"Purposes change," she smiled mysteriously.
That was almost Vorlon, he thought.
"Shall we continue?" she pressed.
"Sure," he said sitting back. "Trust Garibaldi - he'll soon have you swearing like a trooper."
"A trooper? That means a soldier, yes? Do soldiers tend to swear more than people in other occupations?"
He started to tell her it was just a figure of speech, then changed his mind: it would only provoke more off-topic questions. Besides, it was true.
"Yeah... in general, I guess."
"That explains the Captain's fondness for words such as 'dammit' and 'absofragginglutely,' then."
'So this was what this was about,' Garibaldi thought shrewdly, regarding the woman sitting beside him out of the corner of his eye. Sheridan. Hhmm. The Captain was probably in for interesting times ahead.
"What does absofragginglutely mean?" she was saying. "I looked up the entomology of the word and was not able to find anything.
"That's just one of John's favorite expressions," Garibaldi grinned. "I don't think it means anything much - he just uses it to emphasize what he's saying."
"What about 'butt'?" Delenn asked suddenly.
He raised his eyebrows at her abrupt change of direction. "What about it? My butt? Your butt...?" Damn, he'd been getting too comfortable.
"My butt?"
"Ahh, forget I said that, Ambassador. It's been a long day and I'm kinda punchy. OK: butt. You know 'butt' is a way to referring to a part of the body?"
"Yes - the part where you sit," she said. "It comes from the word 'buttock' and can also be described as 'derriere' or 'behind.'"
"Um, yeah." Had Delenn memorized the dictionary?
"Well, you can combine this with other words to get things like 'butthead.'"
"And I could say this if I stubbed my toe?"
"Well, no... When you swear like that, it's kinda more of an abstraction. 'Butthead' is something you'd call a person."
"You would call someone this?" Delenn looked puzzled. "Does this mean you would think the person had a head that looked like a butt? Wouldn't that be impolite to comment on such a thing?"
Garibaldi rubbed his eyes. 'Why me?'
"No. I told you humans use body functions as swear words. They also use parts of the body. 'Butthead' is something you'd say to insult someone. Like 'dickhead' or 'arsehole' or..." he trailed off, seeing the expression on her face. "What?"
"You... you call people these things?"
"Well, not usually in general conversation, no. But if you're angry with them... I guess Minbari don't do that."
"No."
"What about your Warrior Caste," he pressed. "Don't they even insult or verbally abuse their enemies?"
"To do so would only demean them," Delenn replied with dignity.
Garibaldi looked at the Human/Minbari hybrid with an ironic smile.
"You know what, Ambassador? Personally, I think your way is better. Perhaps you're better off not learning any of this. You're too..." - What was the word he was looking for? - "too much of a lady to be using this language."
"I am too female?" she frowned. "Does that mean only human males swear? I had thought I had heard females swearing upon occasion."
"Oh, women can swear all right," he assured her with a laugh. "My grandmother was a cop, and she used to be able to blister the air about her with her language. But no, I meant that you're too classy, Delenn, too refined for swearing to come naturally to you."
She smiled, and inclined her head gracefully at his comment.
"But even a 'lady' should know what these things mean."
"Well you are persistent, Ambassador," he grinned. "Okay...."
#####
Epilogue
....."Tell them... Tell them that from this place we will deliver notice to the parliament of conquerors that a line has been drawn against the darkness. And that we will hold that line, no matter the cost."......
Garibaldi watched as the Rangers filed quietly from the room and started to follow but was restrained by Sheridan's hand on his arm.
"Just a moment, Chief, I wanna talk to you."
He hoped that Sheridan wasn't going to give him hell for not telling the C.O. about the Rangers sooner. Dammit: yes, he trusted John, but he'd made a promise. He kept his facial expression neutral as Delenn and Kosh left together.
"Look, Captain, I know you would've liked in sooner, but..."
Sheridan held up his hand to stop the flow of words.
"No, that's not what I wanted to talk about."
Garibaldi raised an eyebrow and Sheridan casually crossed his arms over his chest.
"Tell me, Michael," he said slowly in a deceptively pleasant tone, "does the phrase: *absofragginglutely, dammit* ring any bells?"
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END: Absofragginglutely
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Author: Rowen
Fandom: Babylon 5
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Most of this is set right before the second season episode 'The Long Twighlight Struggle' (although the last scene occurs just after).
Synopsis: Garibaldi assists Ambassor Delenn in her exploration of an important human custom.
Pairing: ---
Genre: Humor
Disclaimer: Babylon 5 is not mine. Never was, never will be.
Notes: Roses to Kathleen for beta-reading this baby and for her great feedback.
This story was written somewhere between 1993 and 1997.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The pizza box lay on the coffee table, the contents long gone cold and soggy. Beside it, propped inelegantly on the glass surface, rested Michael Garibaldi's booted feet. His eyes were half closed, as he lounged back against the sofa cushions with a glass of chilled juice in hand.
This was bliss. He stretched out, soaking in the blessedly silent ambience of his quarters. The station was quiet, all the bad guys were tucked safely in their holding cells, and he'd had three hours, three completely *undisturbed* hours, all to himself. He could make a habit of this...
.
The door chime. Great.
"You had do go and think it, didn't you Michael," he muttered to himself. "You couldn't just lie back and enjoy it.... *No* you had to *think* about it." He sighed, removing his boots from the table and assuming a more dignified position.
"Come."
His visitor entered uncertainly. He had half expected it to be Sheridan or Ivanova or Stephen or Zack. It was however none of these, instead the slim, graceful figure of Delenn stepped into the room.
"Ambassador," he rose quickly to his feet. "Is something wrong?"
"No, not at all Mr. Garibaldi." She paused far enough inside so that the door would swing shut behind her, casting a quick gaze at the remains of the pizza. "I am sorry - I did not intend to disturb your evening meal."
"No, I finished long ago - just hadn't got around to cleaning up yet." He fumbled with the box, embarrassed that she had seen him slobbing, and swept the whole thing into the disposal unit of the kitchenette.
"Please sit down. Can I get you something to drink? Juice? Water?" It was clear the Minbari Ambassador had some weighty matter on her mind she wished to discuss.
"Some juice, perhaps?" she requested, seating herself gracefully on the couch.
He rifled through his cupboard for a glass, discretely checking to see if it was clean before filling it.
"So what can I do for you?" he asked, handing the drink to her and sitting on the other end of the couch. "Have you come to watch some more 'Duck Dodgers'? I managed to get my hands on a couple of great ones the other day." It wasn't the most elegant way of breaking the tension, but it worked, for Delenn smiled demurely, sipping at her juice.
"Actually, since you were of such help in assisting me in my study of Earth humor, I thought I might be able to turn to you for advice in some further study of human customs."
"Of course, Ambassador, I'd be glad to help you in any way I can," he agreed cheerfully, though feeling a little wary. When Delenn decided she wanted to study something, she was pretty single-minded about the business. "So, what do you want to know? Our fascination with sports? What sort of music we like? Culinary arts?" he took a swig of his drink.
"Swearing."
Garibaldi froze - juice in mouth - unsure he had heard correctly. After a moment he swallowed with some effort.
"Excuse me?" he must of misheard, he thought she'd said -
"Swearing."
"Swearing," he repeated stupidly.
"Yes, swearing." Delenn looked a trifle flustered. "It seems to be a relevant part of your language - one with which I have had limited experience and no opportunity to practice."
"You want me to teach you to swear?" God, this was surreal. For a moment he wondered if Ivanova had put her up to this as some sort of bizarre revenge scheme, but then dismissed the idea: Delenn would not be party to such a plan.
"OK," he said slowly, "What exactly do you want to know about swearing?"
"The appropriate times at which to swear, which words should be used..." she spread her small hands in an encompassing gesture. "I have studied your language extensively, but there are so many contradictions when it comes to this particular form of expression that I thought it might be simpler to ask. I can speak to someone else about it, if you are too busy."
"No, that's fine Ambassador," he assured her. "I'll do what I can, although you'd probably be better off speaking to someone who actually teaches languages." Actually, on second thought, maybe that wasn't such a good idea. He didn't really want Delenn running all over the station asking people about swearing.
"You are my friend, Mr Garibaldi. I trust you."
Garibaldi took a breath. 'It could have been worse, Michael,' he told himself. 'At least she hasn't come asking you about the birds and the bees.' He regarded her politely eager expression with a hint of trepidation and kissed the rest of his quiet evening away: it looked like this might take a while.
"All right." He ran his hand across his scalp, then took another sip of juice. Where to start?
"Perhaps we should do a comparison," he suggested.
"A comparison of what?" Delenn asked, following Garibaldi's lead and sipping at her drink.
"Well... for instance..." He cast his mind about for something that would be common to both cultures. "OK. Say if you were walking around your quarters without shoes on..."
"One always wears shoes in one's quarters," Delenn interrupted. "It would be inconsiderate - not to mention disrespectful - not to do so, in case one had an unexpected guest."
This was going to be harder than he thought, though he filed that handy tip away for future reference: always wear shoes when Minbari come-a-calling.
"What about when you go to bed?" he asked. "You don't wear shoes then, do you?" Great doing, Michael, asking the Minbari Ambassador what she wears to bed. What will you ask next: whether she buttons, then zips?
"No." Delenn shook her head.
"All right, you've prepared for bed, so you have your shoes off, and you're just about to climb in when you accidentally kick your toe hard into a piece of furniture."
"That would be very clumsy," Delenn frowned. "A Minbari would be more aware of their personal space."
Michael mentally banged his head on a hard surface. Delenn might look relatively human, but she almost seemed to be going out of her way to be excessively Minbari tonight.
"Well, just pretend," he said patiently, taking another sip. "What might you say?"
Delenn tilted her head to one side as if seriously considering the scenario.
"V'shar"
Good, we're getting somewhere. "And that means?"
"'Ouch' - approximately."
Garibaldi was glad he'd swallowed - he would have sprayed his mouthful across half the room if he hadn't. Even still, he strained not to laugh. Ouch. Oh, dammit, that was just too funny.
A chuckle burst forth.
Delenn regarded him with guileless green eyes.
"That is funny?"
"Sorta... Sorry Ambassador, I didn't mean to laugh. It's just been one of those days." He wiped his eyes.
"'Ouch.' OK. Now, if *I * were in that situation, I guess I'd probably say 'dammit,' or 'bloody hell,' or 'crap,' or 'shit,' depending on what sort of mood I was in - how bad my day had been. That sort of thing."
"You do not have one particular word that would be used?"
"Nope. Swearing's a pretty personal thing - people use different words depending on their up-bringing and personality."
Delenn frowned. "'Crap?' 'Shit?'"
Oh dear. "I... uhh... A lot of human swearing is heavily influenced by bodily functions," he said, staring at his hands. Be grateful you didn't add f**k to that list, Michael, or you'd be trying to explain why humans used a term for intercourse as a swear word.
"Oh." She thought about it for a moment. "And this 'shit' is...?"
Oh God, how do I put this? "It's... uhmm..." God, why hadn't she gone and asked Susan or someone? "It's solid waste that is excreted from the body," he said in a rush before he could think too much more about it.
"I see."
At least she didn't look offended.
"'Crap' is a more socially acceptable way of saying 'shit,'" he hurried on.
She nodded. "What about 'dammit?' I looked it up in the language files. Damn meant: to condemn, to ruin or eternal punishment in hell." She regarded him with a puzzled expression. "Why would you wish to condemn something to eternal punishment in hell simply for kicking your toe?"
She had to be having him on, right? She wasn't *that* literal about her translations... He didn't sink his head into his hands, but he did sigh.
"I don't think I'm cut out to be a teacher, Ambassador: I think I may be making things worse."
"On the contrary, Mr. Garibaldi," she disagreed. "You are helping to facilitate understanding between our peoples. Which is one of the major directives of the charter for Babylon 5, is it not?"
"Yeah, but I don't think they had lessons in Intergalactic swearing in mind when that was drafted."
"Purposes change," she smiled mysteriously.
That was almost Vorlon, he thought.
"Shall we continue?" she pressed.
"Sure," he said sitting back. "Trust Garibaldi - he'll soon have you swearing like a trooper."
"A trooper? That means a soldier, yes? Do soldiers tend to swear more than people in other occupations?"
He started to tell her it was just a figure of speech, then changed his mind: it would only provoke more off-topic questions. Besides, it was true.
"Yeah... in general, I guess."
"That explains the Captain's fondness for words such as 'dammit' and 'absofragginglutely,' then."
'So this was what this was about,' Garibaldi thought shrewdly, regarding the woman sitting beside him out of the corner of his eye. Sheridan. Hhmm. The Captain was probably in for interesting times ahead.
"What does absofragginglutely mean?" she was saying. "I looked up the entomology of the word and was not able to find anything.
"That's just one of John's favorite expressions," Garibaldi grinned. "I don't think it means anything much - he just uses it to emphasize what he's saying."
"What about 'butt'?" Delenn asked suddenly.
He raised his eyebrows at her abrupt change of direction. "What about it? My butt? Your butt...?" Damn, he'd been getting too comfortable.
"My butt?"
"Ahh, forget I said that, Ambassador. It's been a long day and I'm kinda punchy. OK: butt. You know 'butt' is a way to referring to a part of the body?"
"Yes - the part where you sit," she said. "It comes from the word 'buttock' and can also be described as 'derriere' or 'behind.'"
"Um, yeah." Had Delenn memorized the dictionary?
"Well, you can combine this with other words to get things like 'butthead.'"
"And I could say this if I stubbed my toe?"
"Well, no... When you swear like that, it's kinda more of an abstraction. 'Butthead' is something you'd call a person."
"You would call someone this?" Delenn looked puzzled. "Does this mean you would think the person had a head that looked like a butt? Wouldn't that be impolite to comment on such a thing?"
Garibaldi rubbed his eyes. 'Why me?'
"No. I told you humans use body functions as swear words. They also use parts of the body. 'Butthead' is something you'd say to insult someone. Like 'dickhead' or 'arsehole' or..." he trailed off, seeing the expression on her face. "What?"
"You... you call people these things?"
"Well, not usually in general conversation, no. But if you're angry with them... I guess Minbari don't do that."
"No."
"What about your Warrior Caste," he pressed. "Don't they even insult or verbally abuse their enemies?"
"To do so would only demean them," Delenn replied with dignity.
Garibaldi looked at the Human/Minbari hybrid with an ironic smile.
"You know what, Ambassador? Personally, I think your way is better. Perhaps you're better off not learning any of this. You're too..." - What was the word he was looking for? - "too much of a lady to be using this language."
"I am too female?" she frowned. "Does that mean only human males swear? I had thought I had heard females swearing upon occasion."
"Oh, women can swear all right," he assured her with a laugh. "My grandmother was a cop, and she used to be able to blister the air about her with her language. But no, I meant that you're too classy, Delenn, too refined for swearing to come naturally to you."
She smiled, and inclined her head gracefully at his comment.
"But even a 'lady' should know what these things mean."
"Well you are persistent, Ambassador," he grinned. "Okay...."
#####
Epilogue
....."Tell them... Tell them that from this place we will deliver notice to the parliament of conquerors that a line has been drawn against the darkness. And that we will hold that line, no matter the cost."......
Garibaldi watched as the Rangers filed quietly from the room and started to follow but was restrained by Sheridan's hand on his arm.
"Just a moment, Chief, I wanna talk to you."
He hoped that Sheridan wasn't going to give him hell for not telling the C.O. about the Rangers sooner. Dammit: yes, he trusted John, but he'd made a promise. He kept his facial expression neutral as Delenn and Kosh left together.
"Look, Captain, I know you would've liked in sooner, but..."
Sheridan held up his hand to stop the flow of words.
"No, that's not what I wanted to talk about."
Garibaldi raised an eyebrow and Sheridan casually crossed his arms over his chest.
"Tell me, Michael," he said slowly in a deceptively pleasant tone, "does the phrase: *absofragginglutely, dammit* ring any bells?"
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END: Absofragginglutely
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