Stargateland: Choose Your Own Adventure
Title: Down the Rabbit Hole - Chunks
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Character: Sam Carter
Rating: PG
Orientation: Gen
Word Count: 3022 total
These are the snippets/chunks I did for the crazy Down the Rabbit Hole choose your own adventure team challenge over at stargateland :
Sam chooses to walk down a beach towards a Prometheus class ship:
Sam walked slowly along the beach towards the bulky ship in the distance. The further she walked, the less the landscape resembled sand and surf and became more and more like a military staging area. A high-pitched horn blared behind her, and Sam jumped and twisted aside as a forklift sped past her, loaded high with crates stenciled "SGC."
A be-speckled clerk in a plain green flight suit ran up to her and held out a clipboard and a pen. "Sign here, Colonel."
"What am I signing?" Sam glanced down, but could not understand the strange language on the paper.
"Responsibilities waiver. You break it, you bought it."
Sam looked around as people and equipment were loaded onto the ship. "If I don't sign?"
"Then the ship doesn't get finished. We can't paint her if you don't choose the color. "Red or blue, Samantha Carter?" The clerk tilts her head up and looks at Sam through very familiar round glasses. The lunch lady! "Red to continue the journey or blue to return to the constraints of normality? The choice is yours."
"I have duties. I cannot just walk away from my duties." Sam protests, looking up at the modified Prometheus class ship. She very much wanted to see inside that ship.
"I do not think anyone has recommended dereliction of duty, Colonel. Dreams are timeless and space is infinite, Samantha Carter, and exploration of all aspects of one's psyche can only yield positive knowledge of self."
Sam chewed her lower lip. She had never been one to spend precious lab and research time meditating, though T'ealc had been after her for years to get in touch with her inner feelings. And Jack O'Neill, the big giant child that he was constantly told her she needed to play more. And Daniel, well, Daniel the Former Ascended Being was all for self inspection. "I won't lose any real time?" Sam asked the curious little lunch-not lunch lady.
The red and blue choice-obsessed guide huffed out a breath that fogged her glasses. "So practical! No, Samantha Carter, choosing the red path will not impact your precious schedule in the waking world."
With a wide smile, Sam waved at the ship and snatched the clipboard eagerly, circling red several times and initialing the form.
“Scientists. Why do they have to make everything so difficult? Red or blue? Not hard choices, red or blue!" The guide muttered and stalked off with the clipboard tucked under her arm.
Circling around the side of the ship which was now painted a shiny candy-apple red, Sam looked up and saw a workman putting the finishing touches on the ship's name. She nodded in approval as she read the stylized black letters spelling out, "Jacob Carter." The finish was completely impractical, one atmospheric entry and the paint job would be ruined, but this was a dream, and in Sam's dream, her ship was the same color as her father's favorite car had once been. Sam bounced happily up the gangplank of the ship, her combat boots clattering noisily.
Only in a dream would the gangplank lead directly to the bridge.
"Commander on deck!" Barked out a voice, and everyone came to attention.
Sam glanced around and realized every position was filled by familiar and trusted faces. Some impossibly here, since they no longer lived back in reality. Her dream crew. Well, why not? This was her dream. Sam smiled warmly and grasped both of Janet Fraiser’s hands in hers for a moment, seeing her lost friend again left her speechless. She glanced around and saw others she had served with over the years and lost along the way. Martouf gave a wave and a smile from behind a console. In Sam’s dream, she had decided the Tok’ra were allies serving on SGC vessels.
"So, the hyperfolddrive is installed, tested and ready. The communications are functioning perfectly. All systems are state of the art, of course, as you designed them. I foresee no problems. If there are any, I will be perfectly happy to assist you in addressing them." Doctor Rodney McKay said as he smiled sincerely and bounced on his heels beside her.
Ok. No. That is disturbing, a friendly, non-egomaniacal and helpful McKay? This is supposed to be a good dream, not some bizzarro nightmare. "You, go back to the SGC and be useful there." Without a single word of complaint, fake-dream Rodney disappeared in a puff of red smoke, Sam was beginning to like the color red, very much.
Sam clapped her hands together and looked around. "And what is our mission, people?"
A crewman dressed in a red shirt blurted out, "To seek out new life and new civi..."
"Bzzzzz. Nope. Unoriginal, back to the SGC with you." Sam waved her hand and the offending geek disappeared.
Jack O’Neill was reclining in a seat off to the side, sipping on a cold frosted umbrella drink in a tall glass. He waved off the question. “I’m just here for the launch party. This is all your thingy Carter, carry on.”
From his position beside a brightly blinking console, Walter Harriman looked over at Cam Mitchell in the pilot's seat. Cam tilted his head, shrugged and looked to Daniel Jackson. Jackson looked as if he were about to say something, thought better of it and shook his head.
"Shopping?" Vala suggested brightly, bobbing up behind Daniel and peering over his shoulder.
Sam tapped her chin thoughtfully and then pointed at Vala. "Where, exactly?"
"There's a wonderful bazaar on Mercatroid this time of year. Just hang a left at Albe-qwer-kee." Vala skirted over to the navigator's position and tapped a few keys to bring up a map.
"Anywhere I want to go." Sam whispered thoughtfully. "All the time in the world." She trotted over to the command chair, which was decidedly non-regulation and squishy, and sank into the luxurious comfort. "We'll add shopping to the list. But first, I'd like to do a little exploring. I think my dream ship should be black-hole proof. Hey people, wanna go do some impossible things with this baby before breakfast? Let's put the Jacob Carter through her paces." Sam sat back in her seat and grinned, unaware that elsewhere in the cosmos, a dark haired little lunch lady was smirking in satisfaction.
The End
Another thread/choice:
Sam follows Daniel on a surfboard, through the wormhole, and meets Crush the turtle...
Sam gives Crush a wicked smile, eyes the swirling wormhole before them and calls out, “Let’s go!” She follows the turtle as best she can while maintaining her balance on the board. Determined to live in the moment, Sam casts aside her usual logic and refuses to think about facts such as:
A) Turtles don’t talk
B) Samantha Carter has never surfed before in her life
C) Her BDUs had somehow transformed into a neon green bikini.
“Whooo!” Sam shouts, riding the surfboard up and around the “top” of the wormhole. She spies her shelled guide coasting along the side up ahead, and she crouches low and skims the edge of a “wave” to reach him. A burst of giggles erupts as she makes a quick move and passes the turtle.
“Whoa, dude, wrong way! Totally wrong way! That’s too far eassssssttttt!!!” She hears from behind her as the wormhole suddenly forks (something else the logical Doctor Samantha Carter refuses to ponder.) She jerks her head around, but her guide is gone. The sudden movement causes her to lose her balance, and she topples off the board backwards.
Anticipating a hard landing, Sam clenches her eyes shut and takes a deep breath, and is quite surprised when she passes through one layer of wormhole “water” and feels open air, then hits water, her momentum carrying her down beneath the surface.
Sam flounders, unsure of which way is up, kicking and flailing in mild panic in the dark green water until she feels a slim hand grasp her wrist and tug her. Following the lead, she straightens herself and swims properly, relieved to see lighter green water above. She bursts through to the air, gasping and gulping in deep breaths. A tinkle of giggles beside her makes her turn to see wide green eyes and a fall of bright red hair.
“The human party is over there!” The girl says brightly, with a toss of her hand. “Gotta go, late for music lessons!” She swims back a few feet and dives under the water again. Sam realizes she has just been rescued by a little mermaid. Looking off in the direction the girl had indicated, Sam sees a beach, and the tinny sound of drums reaches her ears. With a shrug, she swims towards the shore.
Once at the beach, she resists the urge to flop onto the sand, her natural curiosity taking over and forcing her to explore and find the source of the music.
Suddenly, a large blue man with a topknot, black goatee, barrel chest and outrageously ugly orange and yellow board shorts appears on the sandy path before her. “Reservation?”
“Uh, no. I didn’t plan to be here.” Sam replies hesitantly.
The man looks around. “Party of one?” When Sam nods, he leans in and whispers, “I think I can squeeze you in. Oh, my, this won’t do, dress code!” He trills out, waves his hand, looks her up and down once more and then nods in approval. With an audible “Poof!” he disappears. Unsure if she should wait or not, Sam chews her lip and stares at the jungle-like greenery around her, Sam scuffs the toe of her rhinestone studded flip-flop in the sand. Huh, she’s got flip flops now, pretty ones that match the bright green of her suit, which is now covered with an elegant crocheted wrap. Scratching her head in confusion, Sam encounters what feels like a large flower wired to a comb in her short blond locks.
“Well come on!” The blue man’s head appears in the air before her, bobbing about five feet from the ground. With a shrug, Samantha follows the bouncing head. “You’re not singing!” The head chides. “I can’t hear you!” Only then does Sam notice that there are words floating in the air beneath the bobbing head.
Catching the tune being played by the band up ahead, she is relieved to find she knows the song. She clears her throat and tentatively sings, “I like mine with lettuce and tomato.”
“Louder, they can’t hear you in the back!” The head says. And then she is standing on a low stage, a microphone in her hand and a karaoke screen beside her. With a shrug, Sam belts out, “Heinz 57 and French fried potatoes!” The crowd is singing along and she gets into the somewhat reggae version of Buffet's Cheeseburger in Paradise.
The blue man reappears, yanks her off the stage by the arm, sending the microphone sailing through the air to be caught by a purple and turquoise octopus wearing a straw hat and waving maracas in five of his other tentacles. A plate with a giant cheeseburger and fries on it is shoved into one hand, followed by a cold frosted glass of draft beer to the other. “Very good, here’s your order, seats at the back, bar to the right, Jacuzzi to the left, volleyball tournament back behind the stage. Enjoy, thank you for dining at Genie’s Place, have a weird day!” The blue man shoves her between the shoulder blades and she stumbles towards the seating area.
“Hey Sam! Sam! Over here!” A familiar voice calls. Since she had seen him at the SGC, Jack had acquired a long dread-lock and braided wig, and large tricorn pirate hat, which slipped down over his eyes as he jumped up and down to get her attention, rattling the red parrot on his shoulder and provoking a string of bird-expletives. Beside him, Daniel smirked and raised his pink umbrella festooned glass in her direction.
She wove her way through tables to get to her teammates and dropped down into the curved booth with them. “The Flaming Flamingo Fruity Flambé is to die for!” Daniel slurred, holding out his drink for her to sample and then declared, “I get all I can drink, ‘cause it’s my unbirthday today!”
Sam though to herself that, unbirthday or no, Daniel had probably had enough. “Well, a very merry unbirthday to you, but I’ll stick with the beer, thanks Daniel.” Sam smiled and dug into her burger, which was cooked exactly the way she liked it, it was like magic.
Sam was just reaching for the beer, anticipating the cool frosty goodness, when a little man in a top hat ran through the tables, shouting out above the music, “Clean cup, clean cup, shove over, move down!” Then Daniel was pushing at her, so she moved over into Jack’s seat when Jack moved away and found herself in front of Jack’s heaping plate of BBQ’d ribs and coleslaw. At least Jack had been drinking draft beer too; Sam grabbed for the glass and chugged down a fair portion, lest the seating arrangements should change again.
“Volleyball time, you’re a team!” A very large, muscular woman with short hair, tight t-shirt and shorts, and a whistle strung around her neck appeared beside their table and pointed at the three members of SG-1.
“Coach Beiste?!?” Daniel exclaims.
“Yeah, now get your rears in gear!” They are now standing on the beach with a group of other people in front of a volleyball net. Sam looks down at herself, she is now clad in a t-shirt and shorts, as are Daniel and Jack, though Jack had retained the eye patch, hat, wig and parrot. Daniel had managed to hold onto his quadruple “F” frou-frou drink as well. Sam briefly mourned the loss of her beer.
A thin man with curly hair had moved to the front of the group and waved to get their attention. “Before we start, I think perhaps we need a team building exercise. Nothing does that better than a song. I was thinking of ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ by Journey, now the choreography will go like this…”
Sam shook her head. No. Not even Red Jell-O could make this happen. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished, and then repeated the wish four times while the crazy curly haired guy organized people into voice sections, causing a bit of a ruckus when he tried to take Jack’s parrot, insisting that the bird was a soprano and Jack belonged over with the baritone section.
When she looked down at her feet, the bejeweled flip-flops were gone, and Sam was happy to see sparkling, glittery red pumps in their place. The sand beneath her feet made it quite easy for Sam to click her heels together and repeat the mantra “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.”
And Sam found herself standing in the commissary line, wedged between Jack and Daniel; a tray in her hands and the usual lunch lady glaring at her over the shimmering dishes of jiggling blue and red jell-o. She earned odd looks from her teammates when she declared forcefully, “No, no way, I just can’t, I absolutely draw the line at Glee.” With a sigh, Sam reached for the blue jell-o.
The End.
Another thread/choice:
Sam sits down at her computer with a PBJ sandwich
Munching absently on a mini peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Sam waits for her computer to boot up. It finally does start up with a happy chime, and a message flashes across the screen, Sam groans and slumps back in her chair. “Stupid darn Itunes... this is gonna be a while.” She might as well have another sandwich. She glances at the empty plate. She must have been hungrier than she had thought. With a last glare at the progress bar on her screen, she stomps over to the pantry to retrieve the sandwich fixings. She opens the door, blinks at what she sees and quickly closes the door again. She glances around; checking for lurking pranksters or potential hidden cameras installed in her absence, takes a deep breath and opens the pantry door again.
“Peanut butter?” A scantily clad, very muscular, very blonde Chippendale’s Dancer asks huskily, helpfully holding out a jar of Skippy’s best munchies cure.
Wide-eyed and a bit stupefied, Sam nods silently and takes the spread. She points to a lower shelf, where the jelly she had just bought rests beside the bread. The dancer smirks, one eyebrow crooking up suggestively, and Sam realizes what else she was pointing at and quickly pulls her hand back, letting it rest, slightly clenched, against her throat. She gulps and stammers out, “Je… Jelly.” She clears her throat and says, “The grape jelly too.”
Blondie tilts his head and looks at her blankly. Sam puts the peanut butter on the counter behind her.
“Over here” She edges over sideways, leans down, reaching around one bare thigh to grab at the jar blindly. She scrambles back and holds up the jar triumphantly.
“Not grape, try again?” Blondie chuckles, crosses his arms and poses provocatively.
She looks at the jar in her hand and realizes that she is holding the last of the strawberry jam that she and Cassie had made as an experiment last summer after going strawberry picking at a pick-your-own farm they had passed while out for a ride in Mitchell’s mustang that they had “liberated” from the base parking lot. (Mitchell had almost demanded his spare keys back and complained about the berry smell for weeks afterwards.)
“This will do!” Sam blurted. Oh, dear. The bread. Muscles McFlexalot was standing in front of the bread too. “I have nothing to spread it on.”
“I can help with that.” The dancer winked suggestively and Sam blushed. “Your Itunes is finished, got any good dance music?”
The choices from here:
Sam cranks up the tunes and gets jiggy with the sexy guy
Sam requests the bread and carries on making more
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Character: Sam Carter
Rating: PG
Orientation: Gen
Word Count: 3022 total
These are the snippets/chunks I did for the crazy Down the Rabbit Hole choose your own adventure team challenge over at stargateland :
Sam chooses to walk down a beach towards a Prometheus class ship:
Sam walked slowly along the beach towards the bulky ship in the distance. The further she walked, the less the landscape resembled sand and surf and became more and more like a military staging area. A high-pitched horn blared behind her, and Sam jumped and twisted aside as a forklift sped past her, loaded high with crates stenciled "SGC."
A be-speckled clerk in a plain green flight suit ran up to her and held out a clipboard and a pen. "Sign here, Colonel."
"What am I signing?" Sam glanced down, but could not understand the strange language on the paper.
"Responsibilities waiver. You break it, you bought it."
Sam looked around as people and equipment were loaded onto the ship. "If I don't sign?"
"Then the ship doesn't get finished. We can't paint her if you don't choose the color. "Red or blue, Samantha Carter?" The clerk tilts her head up and looks at Sam through very familiar round glasses. The lunch lady! "Red to continue the journey or blue to return to the constraints of normality? The choice is yours."
"I have duties. I cannot just walk away from my duties." Sam protests, looking up at the modified Prometheus class ship. She very much wanted to see inside that ship.
"I do not think anyone has recommended dereliction of duty, Colonel. Dreams are timeless and space is infinite, Samantha Carter, and exploration of all aspects of one's psyche can only yield positive knowledge of self."
Sam chewed her lower lip. She had never been one to spend precious lab and research time meditating, though T'ealc had been after her for years to get in touch with her inner feelings. And Jack O'Neill, the big giant child that he was constantly told her she needed to play more. And Daniel, well, Daniel the Former Ascended Being was all for self inspection. "I won't lose any real time?" Sam asked the curious little lunch-not lunch lady.
The red and blue choice-obsessed guide huffed out a breath that fogged her glasses. "So practical! No, Samantha Carter, choosing the red path will not impact your precious schedule in the waking world."
With a wide smile, Sam waved at the ship and snatched the clipboard eagerly, circling red several times and initialing the form.
“Scientists. Why do they have to make everything so difficult? Red or blue? Not hard choices, red or blue!" The guide muttered and stalked off with the clipboard tucked under her arm.
Circling around the side of the ship which was now painted a shiny candy-apple red, Sam looked up and saw a workman putting the finishing touches on the ship's name. She nodded in approval as she read the stylized black letters spelling out, "Jacob Carter." The finish was completely impractical, one atmospheric entry and the paint job would be ruined, but this was a dream, and in Sam's dream, her ship was the same color as her father's favorite car had once been. Sam bounced happily up the gangplank of the ship, her combat boots clattering noisily.
Only in a dream would the gangplank lead directly to the bridge.
"Commander on deck!" Barked out a voice, and everyone came to attention.
Sam glanced around and realized every position was filled by familiar and trusted faces. Some impossibly here, since they no longer lived back in reality. Her dream crew. Well, why not? This was her dream. Sam smiled warmly and grasped both of Janet Fraiser’s hands in hers for a moment, seeing her lost friend again left her speechless. She glanced around and saw others she had served with over the years and lost along the way. Martouf gave a wave and a smile from behind a console. In Sam’s dream, she had decided the Tok’ra were allies serving on SGC vessels.
"So, the hyperfolddrive is installed, tested and ready. The communications are functioning perfectly. All systems are state of the art, of course, as you designed them. I foresee no problems. If there are any, I will be perfectly happy to assist you in addressing them." Doctor Rodney McKay said as he smiled sincerely and bounced on his heels beside her.
Ok. No. That is disturbing, a friendly, non-egomaniacal and helpful McKay? This is supposed to be a good dream, not some bizzarro nightmare. "You, go back to the SGC and be useful there." Without a single word of complaint, fake-dream Rodney disappeared in a puff of red smoke, Sam was beginning to like the color red, very much.
Sam clapped her hands together and looked around. "And what is our mission, people?"
A crewman dressed in a red shirt blurted out, "To seek out new life and new civi..."
"Bzzzzz. Nope. Unoriginal, back to the SGC with you." Sam waved her hand and the offending geek disappeared.
Jack O’Neill was reclining in a seat off to the side, sipping on a cold frosted umbrella drink in a tall glass. He waved off the question. “I’m just here for the launch party. This is all your thingy Carter, carry on.”
From his position beside a brightly blinking console, Walter Harriman looked over at Cam Mitchell in the pilot's seat. Cam tilted his head, shrugged and looked to Daniel Jackson. Jackson looked as if he were about to say something, thought better of it and shook his head.
"Shopping?" Vala suggested brightly, bobbing up behind Daniel and peering over his shoulder.
Sam tapped her chin thoughtfully and then pointed at Vala. "Where, exactly?"
"There's a wonderful bazaar on Mercatroid this time of year. Just hang a left at Albe-qwer-kee." Vala skirted over to the navigator's position and tapped a few keys to bring up a map.
"Anywhere I want to go." Sam whispered thoughtfully. "All the time in the world." She trotted over to the command chair, which was decidedly non-regulation and squishy, and sank into the luxurious comfort. "We'll add shopping to the list. But first, I'd like to do a little exploring. I think my dream ship should be black-hole proof. Hey people, wanna go do some impossible things with this baby before breakfast? Let's put the Jacob Carter through her paces." Sam sat back in her seat and grinned, unaware that elsewhere in the cosmos, a dark haired little lunch lady was smirking in satisfaction.
The End
Another thread/choice:
Sam follows Daniel on a surfboard, through the wormhole, and meets Crush the turtle...
Sam gives Crush a wicked smile, eyes the swirling wormhole before them and calls out, “Let’s go!” She follows the turtle as best she can while maintaining her balance on the board. Determined to live in the moment, Sam casts aside her usual logic and refuses to think about facts such as:
A) Turtles don’t talk
B) Samantha Carter has never surfed before in her life
C) Her BDUs had somehow transformed into a neon green bikini.
“Whooo!” Sam shouts, riding the surfboard up and around the “top” of the wormhole. She spies her shelled guide coasting along the side up ahead, and she crouches low and skims the edge of a “wave” to reach him. A burst of giggles erupts as she makes a quick move and passes the turtle.
“Whoa, dude, wrong way! Totally wrong way! That’s too far eassssssttttt!!!” She hears from behind her as the wormhole suddenly forks (something else the logical Doctor Samantha Carter refuses to ponder.) She jerks her head around, but her guide is gone. The sudden movement causes her to lose her balance, and she topples off the board backwards.
Anticipating a hard landing, Sam clenches her eyes shut and takes a deep breath, and is quite surprised when she passes through one layer of wormhole “water” and feels open air, then hits water, her momentum carrying her down beneath the surface.
Sam flounders, unsure of which way is up, kicking and flailing in mild panic in the dark green water until she feels a slim hand grasp her wrist and tug her. Following the lead, she straightens herself and swims properly, relieved to see lighter green water above. She bursts through to the air, gasping and gulping in deep breaths. A tinkle of giggles beside her makes her turn to see wide green eyes and a fall of bright red hair.
“The human party is over there!” The girl says brightly, with a toss of her hand. “Gotta go, late for music lessons!” She swims back a few feet and dives under the water again. Sam realizes she has just been rescued by a little mermaid. Looking off in the direction the girl had indicated, Sam sees a beach, and the tinny sound of drums reaches her ears. With a shrug, she swims towards the shore.
Once at the beach, she resists the urge to flop onto the sand, her natural curiosity taking over and forcing her to explore and find the source of the music.
Suddenly, a large blue man with a topknot, black goatee, barrel chest and outrageously ugly orange and yellow board shorts appears on the sandy path before her. “Reservation?”
“Uh, no. I didn’t plan to be here.” Sam replies hesitantly.
The man looks around. “Party of one?” When Sam nods, he leans in and whispers, “I think I can squeeze you in. Oh, my, this won’t do, dress code!” He trills out, waves his hand, looks her up and down once more and then nods in approval. With an audible “Poof!” he disappears. Unsure if she should wait or not, Sam chews her lip and stares at the jungle-like greenery around her, Sam scuffs the toe of her rhinestone studded flip-flop in the sand. Huh, she’s got flip flops now, pretty ones that match the bright green of her suit, which is now covered with an elegant crocheted wrap. Scratching her head in confusion, Sam encounters what feels like a large flower wired to a comb in her short blond locks.
“Well come on!” The blue man’s head appears in the air before her, bobbing about five feet from the ground. With a shrug, Samantha follows the bouncing head. “You’re not singing!” The head chides. “I can’t hear you!” Only then does Sam notice that there are words floating in the air beneath the bobbing head.
Catching the tune being played by the band up ahead, she is relieved to find she knows the song. She clears her throat and tentatively sings, “I like mine with lettuce and tomato.”
“Louder, they can’t hear you in the back!” The head says. And then she is standing on a low stage, a microphone in her hand and a karaoke screen beside her. With a shrug, Sam belts out, “Heinz 57 and French fried potatoes!” The crowd is singing along and she gets into the somewhat reggae version of Buffet's Cheeseburger in Paradise.
The blue man reappears, yanks her off the stage by the arm, sending the microphone sailing through the air to be caught by a purple and turquoise octopus wearing a straw hat and waving maracas in five of his other tentacles. A plate with a giant cheeseburger and fries on it is shoved into one hand, followed by a cold frosted glass of draft beer to the other. “Very good, here’s your order, seats at the back, bar to the right, Jacuzzi to the left, volleyball tournament back behind the stage. Enjoy, thank you for dining at Genie’s Place, have a weird day!” The blue man shoves her between the shoulder blades and she stumbles towards the seating area.
“Hey Sam! Sam! Over here!” A familiar voice calls. Since she had seen him at the SGC, Jack had acquired a long dread-lock and braided wig, and large tricorn pirate hat, which slipped down over his eyes as he jumped up and down to get her attention, rattling the red parrot on his shoulder and provoking a string of bird-expletives. Beside him, Daniel smirked and raised his pink umbrella festooned glass in her direction.
She wove her way through tables to get to her teammates and dropped down into the curved booth with them. “The Flaming Flamingo Fruity Flambé is to die for!” Daniel slurred, holding out his drink for her to sample and then declared, “I get all I can drink, ‘cause it’s my unbirthday today!”
Sam though to herself that, unbirthday or no, Daniel had probably had enough. “Well, a very merry unbirthday to you, but I’ll stick with the beer, thanks Daniel.” Sam smiled and dug into her burger, which was cooked exactly the way she liked it, it was like magic.
Sam was just reaching for the beer, anticipating the cool frosty goodness, when a little man in a top hat ran through the tables, shouting out above the music, “Clean cup, clean cup, shove over, move down!” Then Daniel was pushing at her, so she moved over into Jack’s seat when Jack moved away and found herself in front of Jack’s heaping plate of BBQ’d ribs and coleslaw. At least Jack had been drinking draft beer too; Sam grabbed for the glass and chugged down a fair portion, lest the seating arrangements should change again.
“Volleyball time, you’re a team!” A very large, muscular woman with short hair, tight t-shirt and shorts, and a whistle strung around her neck appeared beside their table and pointed at the three members of SG-1.
“Coach Beiste?!?” Daniel exclaims.
“Yeah, now get your rears in gear!” They are now standing on the beach with a group of other people in front of a volleyball net. Sam looks down at herself, she is now clad in a t-shirt and shorts, as are Daniel and Jack, though Jack had retained the eye patch, hat, wig and parrot. Daniel had managed to hold onto his quadruple “F” frou-frou drink as well. Sam briefly mourned the loss of her beer.
A thin man with curly hair had moved to the front of the group and waved to get their attention. “Before we start, I think perhaps we need a team building exercise. Nothing does that better than a song. I was thinking of ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ by Journey, now the choreography will go like this…”
Sam shook her head. No. Not even Red Jell-O could make this happen. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished, and then repeated the wish four times while the crazy curly haired guy organized people into voice sections, causing a bit of a ruckus when he tried to take Jack’s parrot, insisting that the bird was a soprano and Jack belonged over with the baritone section.
When she looked down at her feet, the bejeweled flip-flops were gone, and Sam was happy to see sparkling, glittery red pumps in their place. The sand beneath her feet made it quite easy for Sam to click her heels together and repeat the mantra “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.”
And Sam found herself standing in the commissary line, wedged between Jack and Daniel; a tray in her hands and the usual lunch lady glaring at her over the shimmering dishes of jiggling blue and red jell-o. She earned odd looks from her teammates when she declared forcefully, “No, no way, I just can’t, I absolutely draw the line at Glee.” With a sigh, Sam reached for the blue jell-o.
The End.
Another thread/choice:
Sam sits down at her computer with a PBJ sandwich
Munching absently on a mini peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Sam waits for her computer to boot up. It finally does start up with a happy chime, and a message flashes across the screen, Sam groans and slumps back in her chair. “Stupid darn Itunes... this is gonna be a while.” She might as well have another sandwich. She glances at the empty plate. She must have been hungrier than she had thought. With a last glare at the progress bar on her screen, she stomps over to the pantry to retrieve the sandwich fixings. She opens the door, blinks at what she sees and quickly closes the door again. She glances around; checking for lurking pranksters or potential hidden cameras installed in her absence, takes a deep breath and opens the pantry door again.
“Peanut butter?” A scantily clad, very muscular, very blonde Chippendale’s Dancer asks huskily, helpfully holding out a jar of Skippy’s best munchies cure.
Wide-eyed and a bit stupefied, Sam nods silently and takes the spread. She points to a lower shelf, where the jelly she had just bought rests beside the bread. The dancer smirks, one eyebrow crooking up suggestively, and Sam realizes what else she was pointing at and quickly pulls her hand back, letting it rest, slightly clenched, against her throat. She gulps and stammers out, “Je… Jelly.” She clears her throat and says, “The grape jelly too.”
Blondie tilts his head and looks at her blankly. Sam puts the peanut butter on the counter behind her.
“Over here” She edges over sideways, leans down, reaching around one bare thigh to grab at the jar blindly. She scrambles back and holds up the jar triumphantly.
“Not grape, try again?” Blondie chuckles, crosses his arms and poses provocatively.
She looks at the jar in her hand and realizes that she is holding the last of the strawberry jam that she and Cassie had made as an experiment last summer after going strawberry picking at a pick-your-own farm they had passed while out for a ride in Mitchell’s mustang that they had “liberated” from the base parking lot. (Mitchell had almost demanded his spare keys back and complained about the berry smell for weeks afterwards.)
“This will do!” Sam blurted. Oh, dear. The bread. Muscles McFlexalot was standing in front of the bread too. “I have nothing to spread it on.”
“I can help with that.” The dancer winked suggestively and Sam blushed. “Your Itunes is finished, got any good dance music?”
The choices from here:
Sam cranks up the tunes and gets jiggy with the sexy guy
Sam requests the bread and carries on making more