a little break from...
May. 29th, 2006 10:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lavandarlizard2...the RFO.
And a Memorial Day moment... You can skip this one; it's for me and my Dad.
My dad was career military. He entered the Army in 1938, during the Depression, because the company he worked for had to let some employees go; there just wasn't enough business. Because he was single, and there were other employees who had families to support, he quit to go to the Army. He was stationed in Hawaii, before Pearl Harbor. He did what most soldiers did at that time - everything. He cooked in the mess hall, drove for the motor pool and did his turn as an MP, keeping order in the payday lines for the whorehouses on Hotel Street. As a farm boy and a truck driver from Missouri, he thought it was a pretty damn good job for $21 a month, plus room and board.
He was home in Missouri on leave on December 7, 1941. His mom's farm had no electricity, and it wasn't until a neighbor, who happened to have a radio, came charging up the road in a mule-drawn buckboard, that they heard the news, and the orders for all military personnel to report to their units immediately. The neighbor waited for my father to pack his gear and then drove him to the train station where he caught a hastily-assembled troop train for the west coast. It took over two days to reach Los Angeles; that train and many more like it, picked up hundreds of soldiers, sailors and marines along the way. A great many of those men (and they were 99% men back then) never saw their families again. My dad was one of the fortunate ones; he was with an engineering unit and saw very little actual combat, being always two steps behind the front lines. He lost friends, though; in Europe, in the Pacific and in Africa. He and several other soldiers, on the island of Ii Shima, off the coast of Okinawa during the Battle of Okinawa, took over an anti-aircraft position and along with the regular gunners at several other guns, shot down a Japanese kamikaze plane.
My dad stayed in the Army Air Corp after the war, choosing to switch to the newly-created Air Force when the opportunity arose. During his career, he served Stateside, in the Pacific, on Guam, in Hawaii, the UK, Germany, Egypt, France, Okinawa, Alaska and Australia. He retired in 1961 at a time when the military services were considered to be superfluous. Had he been asked, he would have worn that uniform and served his country until they carried his cold, stiff corpse away from his post, because it was never "all about me" for him.
SSgt Williard Lee Jackson, USAF Rtd; March 22, 1914 - March 30, 1980.
I love you, Pops; thanks.
And now for main event... ^__^
Ii Kibarashi 046 — Snips and Snails and Dragon Tails, II
Thoughtfully, Trowa studied the note left on his desk.
“’Grab a port home; I have some unexpected errands to run.’”
Would it kill that obnoxious reptile to add a simple “please” to that command? Apparently, it would. He rolled his eyes with a shrug. Wufei was Wufei. And dragons forbid that a Five-Toed Chinese Imperial Were-Dragon should descend mannerly behavior toward his inferiors. This would be just about everyone on the planet, according to said Five-Toed Chinese Imperial Were-Dragon.
He called the port dispatcher and arranged a trip and then settled back into his notes.
He didn’t mention any errands before lunch... They had plenty of food in the freezer, and Trowa remembered to take out some steaks for dinner. He’d picked up Wufei’s dry cleaning a couple of days ago and returned his over-due library books, as well. What errands would he be running now? Q had invited everyone to his place for a cook-out on the holiday... Maybe Wufei wanted to pick up some sort of gift or some food for the party. Q always provided everything for these events, but Wufei was old-fashioned that way.
Perhaps the car needed an oil change. Or fuel. Or a visit to the car wash. It looked fine to him, but Wufei was positively anal about that car; everything about it had to be perfect, all the time. Looking at just that silly car, one would never know that the Were-Dragon was an absolute slob at home.
“You are daydreaming, Trowa,” said Enrique with a smirk. “What has so piqued your concentration that you would not notice the paper airplanes being wafted your way?”
Trowa looked down, startled. His desk and the floor around it were littered with tiny paper airplanes; at least thirty of the things. He blinked.
Enrique perched on the edge of his desk. “I have been tossing these things at you for almost an hour. Is there a problem with a case?”
“Oh. Um... No. I was just deep in thought, I guess,” he admitted in some embarrassment.
“Has Heero’s cousin called for Wufei again?”
Trowa blinked at him. “Not that I know of....”
“They do seem to have come to sort of arrangement,” the Elf mused off-handedly. “He’s been here twice – or is it three times?”
“Three,” Trowa agreed automatically. Damn. Was Rigel coming again? Was that why Wufei had errands to run so suddenly? Crap.
A rapping on the doorframe saved him any further uncomfortable contemplation. His porter had arrived.
“Oh, I have to leave; their schedule,” he offered as an excuse to run away from Enrique’s gentle probing. Why were Elves so nosy, anyway?
“Of course,” Enrique agreed genially. “We will meet at Q’s garden party, yes?”
“Um... Yes. See you then.”
~*~
The porter dropped him at the gate of the apartment complex. Most of the younger porters didn’t have the pinpoint accuracy to appear in front of his door or on the balcony; they would grow into that as their skills deepened.
He checked the mail, but Wufei must have already gotten it, as the box was empty. He’d forgotten to check if Wufei’s precious car was in its space. He caught the elevator up, having to smile and nod at Mrs Lutzmeuller from the fifth floor, as she detailed her observations of the residents for that day. The elderly Witch had been forced to give up her cottage in the mountains after a tangle with an errant boggart caused her to fall off the roof and scare the crap out of her son and daughter. She categorically refused to go into a home, and she really didn’t need to be under care, just around people. Hence, the apartment on the fifth floor, from which she had an excellent view of both entrances and the parking area.
Escaping when the doors opened on the fourth floor, Trowa breathed a sigh of relief. He could probably manage to deal with the Rigel thing after the preliminary of Mrs Lutzmeuller.
“Wufei?” he called, letting himself into their apartment. “Are you here?” He smelled cleaning solutions; Wufei had at least been here since they left this morning.
“In the kitchen,” came the reply.
“What’s up that you had to... leave... so... early...?” He stared at the kitchen. It... *gleamed*. Every surface seemed to have been scrubbed, washed and polished to within an inch of its life. Figuratively speaking. “Holy Mother Bast...” he breathed.
“What?” snapped the Were-Dragon. “Haven’t you ever seen a clean kitchen?”
“Well, yeah... But only after *I’ve* cleaned it. Damn, Wufei; did someone put a spell on you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snorted. “We’re having company for dinner and I thought it only proper to tidy the place up a bit.”
“’A bit’.” Trowa backed up and looked around the living/dining room. It looked like a magazine set. Everything sparkling and shining and freshly vacuumed and put away... Fresh flowers in the vase on the mirror table and a floral centerpiece on the dining table. The table set for three, with the matching china and flatware. And those were new glasses; they used mostly fast-food soda cups and travel mugs for their coffee.
“Wufei, who the hell is coming to dinner?” A certain dread stole over him; this looked like an attempt to impress someone important... How important could a Five-Toed Chinese Imperial Were-Dragon feel that a Wyvern was, anyway? Unless... unless it was a particular Wyvern...
Shit. That... date for fencing... The dueling since then... The superior smirks flashed whenever the Wyvern was mentioned... Just... shit!
“Rowdy is bringing fish for dinner.”
“Huh?” The runaway train of thought screeched to a halt. Rowdy? Where did his cousin come into this?
“I said, Rowdy is bringing fresh fish for dinner, idiot. Go clean up before he gets here; you look like you’ve been playing in a bramble patch.” Wufei returned to polishing the range, humming under his breath.
Trowa stared at him for several seconds, before shaking himself and turning automatically toward his bedroom.
Rowdy?! And fresh fish?! Not...
“Not more koi?!” he yelled over his shoulder in horror.
“Of course not, idiot! Today is fish day at Kobari’s market; he’s bringing fresh salmon.”
Trowa appeared in the doorway. “Why?” he asked cautiously. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the reason, but he had to ask.
“I don’t know,” Wufei tossed over his shoulder as he buffed the dials on the range. “I mentioned that I particularly like salmon once; perhaps he remembered.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Trowa about-faced and slunk down the hall to his room.
Dueling dates with Rigel. Salmon from Rowdy. Wufei... humming...
The world is coming to an end...
And a Memorial Day moment... You can skip this one; it's for me and my Dad.
My dad was career military. He entered the Army in 1938, during the Depression, because the company he worked for had to let some employees go; there just wasn't enough business. Because he was single, and there were other employees who had families to support, he quit to go to the Army. He was stationed in Hawaii, before Pearl Harbor. He did what most soldiers did at that time - everything. He cooked in the mess hall, drove for the motor pool and did his turn as an MP, keeping order in the payday lines for the whorehouses on Hotel Street. As a farm boy and a truck driver from Missouri, he thought it was a pretty damn good job for $21 a month, plus room and board.
He was home in Missouri on leave on December 7, 1941. His mom's farm had no electricity, and it wasn't until a neighbor, who happened to have a radio, came charging up the road in a mule-drawn buckboard, that they heard the news, and the orders for all military personnel to report to their units immediately. The neighbor waited for my father to pack his gear and then drove him to the train station where he caught a hastily-assembled troop train for the west coast. It took over two days to reach Los Angeles; that train and many more like it, picked up hundreds of soldiers, sailors and marines along the way. A great many of those men (and they were 99% men back then) never saw their families again. My dad was one of the fortunate ones; he was with an engineering unit and saw very little actual combat, being always two steps behind the front lines. He lost friends, though; in Europe, in the Pacific and in Africa. He and several other soldiers, on the island of Ii Shima, off the coast of Okinawa during the Battle of Okinawa, took over an anti-aircraft position and along with the regular gunners at several other guns, shot down a Japanese kamikaze plane.
My dad stayed in the Army Air Corp after the war, choosing to switch to the newly-created Air Force when the opportunity arose. During his career, he served Stateside, in the Pacific, on Guam, in Hawaii, the UK, Germany, Egypt, France, Okinawa, Alaska and Australia. He retired in 1961 at a time when the military services were considered to be superfluous. Had he been asked, he would have worn that uniform and served his country until they carried his cold, stiff corpse away from his post, because it was never "all about me" for him.
SSgt Williard Lee Jackson, USAF Rtd; March 22, 1914 - March 30, 1980.
I love you, Pops; thanks.
And now for main event... ^__^
Ii Kibarashi 046 — Snips and Snails and Dragon Tails, II
Thoughtfully, Trowa studied the note left on his desk.
“’Grab a port home; I have some unexpected errands to run.’”
Would it kill that obnoxious reptile to add a simple “please” to that command? Apparently, it would. He rolled his eyes with a shrug. Wufei was Wufei. And dragons forbid that a Five-Toed Chinese Imperial Were-Dragon should descend mannerly behavior toward his inferiors. This would be just about everyone on the planet, according to said Five-Toed Chinese Imperial Were-Dragon.
He called the port dispatcher and arranged a trip and then settled back into his notes.
He didn’t mention any errands before lunch... They had plenty of food in the freezer, and Trowa remembered to take out some steaks for dinner. He’d picked up Wufei’s dry cleaning a couple of days ago and returned his over-due library books, as well. What errands would he be running now? Q had invited everyone to his place for a cook-out on the holiday... Maybe Wufei wanted to pick up some sort of gift or some food for the party. Q always provided everything for these events, but Wufei was old-fashioned that way.
Perhaps the car needed an oil change. Or fuel. Or a visit to the car wash. It looked fine to him, but Wufei was positively anal about that car; everything about it had to be perfect, all the time. Looking at just that silly car, one would never know that the Were-Dragon was an absolute slob at home.
“You are daydreaming, Trowa,” said Enrique with a smirk. “What has so piqued your concentration that you would not notice the paper airplanes being wafted your way?”
Trowa looked down, startled. His desk and the floor around it were littered with tiny paper airplanes; at least thirty of the things. He blinked.
Enrique perched on the edge of his desk. “I have been tossing these things at you for almost an hour. Is there a problem with a case?”
“Oh. Um... No. I was just deep in thought, I guess,” he admitted in some embarrassment.
“Has Heero’s cousin called for Wufei again?”
Trowa blinked at him. “Not that I know of....”
“They do seem to have come to sort of arrangement,” the Elf mused off-handedly. “He’s been here twice – or is it three times?”
“Three,” Trowa agreed automatically. Damn. Was Rigel coming again? Was that why Wufei had errands to run so suddenly? Crap.
A rapping on the doorframe saved him any further uncomfortable contemplation. His porter had arrived.
“Oh, I have to leave; their schedule,” he offered as an excuse to run away from Enrique’s gentle probing. Why were Elves so nosy, anyway?
“Of course,” Enrique agreed genially. “We will meet at Q’s garden party, yes?”
“Um... Yes. See you then.”
~*~
The porter dropped him at the gate of the apartment complex. Most of the younger porters didn’t have the pinpoint accuracy to appear in front of his door or on the balcony; they would grow into that as their skills deepened.
He checked the mail, but Wufei must have already gotten it, as the box was empty. He’d forgotten to check if Wufei’s precious car was in its space. He caught the elevator up, having to smile and nod at Mrs Lutzmeuller from the fifth floor, as she detailed her observations of the residents for that day. The elderly Witch had been forced to give up her cottage in the mountains after a tangle with an errant boggart caused her to fall off the roof and scare the crap out of her son and daughter. She categorically refused to go into a home, and she really didn’t need to be under care, just around people. Hence, the apartment on the fifth floor, from which she had an excellent view of both entrances and the parking area.
Escaping when the doors opened on the fourth floor, Trowa breathed a sigh of relief. He could probably manage to deal with the Rigel thing after the preliminary of Mrs Lutzmeuller.
“Wufei?” he called, letting himself into their apartment. “Are you here?” He smelled cleaning solutions; Wufei had at least been here since they left this morning.
“In the kitchen,” came the reply.
“What’s up that you had to... leave... so... early...?” He stared at the kitchen. It... *gleamed*. Every surface seemed to have been scrubbed, washed and polished to within an inch of its life. Figuratively speaking. “Holy Mother Bast...” he breathed.
“What?” snapped the Were-Dragon. “Haven’t you ever seen a clean kitchen?”
“Well, yeah... But only after *I’ve* cleaned it. Damn, Wufei; did someone put a spell on you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snorted. “We’re having company for dinner and I thought it only proper to tidy the place up a bit.”
“’A bit’.” Trowa backed up and looked around the living/dining room. It looked like a magazine set. Everything sparkling and shining and freshly vacuumed and put away... Fresh flowers in the vase on the mirror table and a floral centerpiece on the dining table. The table set for three, with the matching china and flatware. And those were new glasses; they used mostly fast-food soda cups and travel mugs for their coffee.
“Wufei, who the hell is coming to dinner?” A certain dread stole over him; this looked like an attempt to impress someone important... How important could a Five-Toed Chinese Imperial Were-Dragon feel that a Wyvern was, anyway? Unless... unless it was a particular Wyvern...
Shit. That... date for fencing... The dueling since then... The superior smirks flashed whenever the Wyvern was mentioned... Just... shit!
“Rowdy is bringing fish for dinner.”
“Huh?” The runaway train of thought screeched to a halt. Rowdy? Where did his cousin come into this?
“I said, Rowdy is bringing fresh fish for dinner, idiot. Go clean up before he gets here; you look like you’ve been playing in a bramble patch.” Wufei returned to polishing the range, humming under his breath.
Trowa stared at him for several seconds, before shaking himself and turning automatically toward his bedroom.
Rowdy?! And fresh fish?! Not...
“Not more koi?!” he yelled over his shoulder in horror.
“Of course not, idiot! Today is fish day at Kobari’s market; he’s bringing fresh salmon.”
Trowa appeared in the doorway. “Why?” he asked cautiously. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the reason, but he had to ask.
“I don’t know,” Wufei tossed over his shoulder as he buffed the dials on the range. “I mentioned that I particularly like salmon once; perhaps he remembered.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Trowa about-faced and slunk down the hall to his room.
Dueling dates with Rigel. Salmon from Rowdy. Wufei... humming...
The world is coming to an end...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-05-29 07:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-29 08:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-29 08:07 pm (UTC)And poor Trowa! The guy can't catch a break! :P Hmmm... wonder if I could get my house cleaned for the right type of food... *eyes family*
no subject
Date: 2006-05-29 08:55 pm (UTC)Pops used to say that when you were in the military, you never went anywhere without either running into someone you knew, or someone who knew someone you knew. Small world. ^__^
I'm surprised Trowa hasn't drowned in the depths of that river he's swimming in... You know; that big one in Egypt...
I probably couldn't get the range cleaned for any kind of food, let alone the rest of the house... >.< Dammit.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-29 11:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-29 11:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 12:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 01:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 01:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-30 03:30 am (UTC)Could be! I just got out of the shower and she's in there paddling in the water dish. Silly-ass cat. ^__^
no subject
Date: 2006-05-29 08:47 pm (UTC)Trowa needs a roommate who appriciates him... then again if this means that Wufei's going to be cleaning the apartment more... hmm. *grin*
no subject
Date: 2006-05-29 08:57 pm (UTC)Trowa needs to climb outta that river and shake some cold water on the pissy Were-Dragon. ^__^
no subject
Date: 2006-06-01 11:19 am (UTC)Thanks for more!^__^