Isn't It Though
He strode into the barracks and sure enough Biffy and Spud were there, lounging on their bunks. The other pilots in the barracks leapt to attention as he walked in. Jack didn’t think he would ever tire of that.
“At ease gentleman. Okay, everyone outside.” Jack stood still as the flyboys filed out past him, Biffy and Spud bringing up the rear. “Not you two.” he said, holding up a hand, “You sit down.”
As the pair tutted and moved to sit on the nearest bunks still with pipes in hand, Jack turned and locked the barrack door.
“You can’t do that blud. You can’t be locking us in.”
“No. That’s like against our human rights or whatever.”
“Oh be quiet. We need to talk.” Jack commanded in his most authoritive voice.
“You can’t talk to us like that. You’re not our real Dad.”
Jack gave an exasperated sigh. “This is exactly what we need to talk about. You can’t keep acting like this. You can’t talk like that.”
“You can’t tell us how to talk. That’s like our freedom of speech and shit. You’re taking away our freedom of speech and all this and that.”
“Yeah, and I’ve got like a condition. I have to talk like this. I’ve got a note from my Mum.”
“Yeah, and his Gran died so you can’t tell us what to do or whatever.”
Jack gritted his teeth and tried to keep his temper.
“You’re supposed to be keeping a low profile. Blending in.”
“Yeah but it’s not like our fault that we’re here.”
“True that. There was like this big swirly thing and whatever and we fell through and now we’re here and shit.”
“Yeah, you know that big swirley thing?”
“That big swirly thing that you know.”
“Yeah you know that big swirly thing? We like fell through that.”
Jack could feel a headache forming above his eye. “Yes I know that big swirly thing. It was me that explained to you that you had fallen through the rift and ended up here in 1941. Now you have to try to blend in. Which means not talking like that.”
“You can’t make us do nothing.”
“No, you can’t make us do nothing. It’s like our…”
“Yes, it’s like your human rights. Oh, whatever.” Jack spun on his heel and, unlocking the door, left the barracks before his head exploded. Or he shot one of them.
“Isn’t it.”
“Isn’t it.”
“Isn’t it.”
“Isn’t it.”
“Isn’t it.”
“Isn’t it though.”
“At ease gentleman. Okay, everyone outside.” Jack stood still as the flyboys filed out past him, Biffy and Spud bringing up the rear. “Not you two.” he said, holding up a hand, “You sit down.”
As the pair tutted and moved to sit on the nearest bunks still with pipes in hand, Jack turned and locked the barrack door.
“You can’t do that blud. You can’t be locking us in.”
“No. That’s like against our human rights or whatever.”
“Oh be quiet. We need to talk.” Jack commanded in his most authoritive voice.
“You can’t talk to us like that. You’re not our real Dad.”
Jack gave an exasperated sigh. “This is exactly what we need to talk about. You can’t keep acting like this. You can’t talk like that.”
“You can’t tell us how to talk. That’s like our freedom of speech and shit. You’re taking away our freedom of speech and all this and that.”
“Yeah, and I’ve got like a condition. I have to talk like this. I’ve got a note from my Mum.”
“Yeah, and his Gran died so you can’t tell us what to do or whatever.”
Jack gritted his teeth and tried to keep his temper.
“You’re supposed to be keeping a low profile. Blending in.”
“Yeah but it’s not like our fault that we’re here.”
“True that. There was like this big swirly thing and whatever and we fell through and now we’re here and shit.”
“Yeah, you know that big swirley thing?”
“That big swirly thing that you know.”
“Yeah you know that big swirly thing? We like fell through that.”
Jack could feel a headache forming above his eye. “Yes I know that big swirly thing. It was me that explained to you that you had fallen through the rift and ended up here in 1941. Now you have to try to blend in. Which means not talking like that.”
“You can’t make us do nothing.”
“No, you can’t make us do nothing. It’s like our…”
“Yes, it’s like your human rights. Oh, whatever.” Jack spun on his heel and, unlocking the door, left the barracks before his head exploded. Or he shot one of them.
“Isn’t it.”
“Isn’t it.”
“Isn’t it.”
“Isn’t it.”
“Isn’t it.”
“Isn’t it though.”