rthstewart (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rthstewart) wrote2011-09-23 08:04 pm
rthstewart) wrote2011-09-23 08:04 pm
Mary, Polly, South America and the wet books
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lady_songsmith who asked for this: Polly, Mary, South America, and the time all the books but one got soaked.
EDIT: NOW WITH ADDED COMMENTFIC (OF COURSE)
Three pairs of eyes peered over the edge of the dugout canoe into the murky depths of the Amazon.
Polly blew out an aggravated breath. “And I suppose that all your examination textbooks Digory gave you were in that bag now sinking to the bottom of the second largest river in the world?”
“I’m afraid so,” Mary replied airily. “The Latin and Greek, the religion, and the philosophy.”
“The only thing that did not fall in is Gadow’s Amphibia and Reptiles, Asim added.
“That is a stroke of luck, what?”
Polly vowed she was never traveling again with a seventeen year old girl. If she wanted further demonstration of the merits of relationships only with women, and rigorous use of contraception when with men, here it was in the boat next to her.
“What do you think, Asim?” Polly asked.
“I think I am more comfortable swimming with the fauna of Africa than South America.”
“Mary? What’s down there if I push you in to retrieve your bookbag?”
“Well, there is Eunectes murinus of course.”
Asim looked at Polly and she whispered, “Green Anaconda.”
“Largest snake in the world. There’s also Melanosuchus niger.”
“That’s a…”
“I know,” Asim said wearily. “It’s some kind of crocodile.”
“I wonder…” Mary leaned precariously over the side of the boat and stuck her fingers into a small school of circling fish. The fish rushed at her appetizing appendage.
“Ha! I thought so!” Mary exclaimed, yanking her fingers out. “Pygocentrus nattereri!!” She waggled her fingers – one was bleeding.
That did it.
“Asim, start the engine,” Polly said, utterly exasperated. Tempting as it was to shove Mary in, Polly really couldn’t blame her. The red piranhas of the Amazon were welcome to Digory’s fourth best copy of the Virgil’s Aeneid and Duns Scotus’ Questions on Metaphysics.
lady_songsmith who asked for this: Polly, Mary, South America, and the time all the books but one got soaked.EDIT: NOW WITH ADDED COMMENTFIC (OF COURSE)
Three pairs of eyes peered over the edge of the dugout canoe into the murky depths of the Amazon.
Polly blew out an aggravated breath. “And I suppose that all your examination textbooks Digory gave you were in that bag now sinking to the bottom of the second largest river in the world?”
“I’m afraid so,” Mary replied airily. “The Latin and Greek, the religion, and the philosophy.”
“The only thing that did not fall in is Gadow’s Amphibia and Reptiles, Asim added.
“That is a stroke of luck, what?”
Polly vowed she was never traveling again with a seventeen year old girl. If she wanted further demonstration of the merits of relationships only with women, and rigorous use of contraception when with men, here it was in the boat next to her.
“What do you think, Asim?” Polly asked.
“I think I am more comfortable swimming with the fauna of Africa than South America.”
“Mary? What’s down there if I push you in to retrieve your bookbag?”
“Well, there is Eunectes murinus of course.”
Asim looked at Polly and she whispered, “Green Anaconda.”
“Largest snake in the world. There’s also Melanosuchus niger.”
“That’s a…”
“I know,” Asim said wearily. “It’s some kind of crocodile.”
“I wonder…” Mary leaned precariously over the side of the boat and stuck her fingers into a small school of circling fish. The fish rushed at her appetizing appendage.
“Ha! I thought so!” Mary exclaimed, yanking her fingers out. “Pygocentrus nattereri!!” She waggled her fingers – one was bleeding.
That did it.
“Asim, start the engine,” Polly said, utterly exasperated. Tempting as it was to shove Mary in, Polly really couldn’t blame her. The red piranhas of the Amazon were welcome to Digory’s fourth best copy of the Virgil’s Aeneid and Duns Scotus’ Questions on Metaphysics.
no subject
"Oof," said Peter. "Your boots aren't half painful."
"Steel capped toes," Mary said primly. "You deserved that, especially after the trouble you've had with the Dread Dunce yourself."
"It's not that," Peter said, clambering to his feet and rubbing a sore spot perilously close to his left kidney. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to the bed.
"Only so that I can shove you away again if you mock me," Mary said, refusing to look at him.
"No," Peter soothed, taking her hand. She didn't pull away: a good sign. "No, no. I'm laughing because I know that you're still offended that he gave you a dressing-down in front of Polly and Asim, and that is why you've always taken a perverse pleasure in stealing his papers."
The silence next to Peter grew petulant. He'd experience with this, too. He waited her out.
"Mostly," Mary finally admitted.
"Mostly?" Peter echoed. "What's the rest of it, then? Oh, don't tell me - you're single-handedly redressing the wrongs done by all those thieving male paleontologists."
This time, a feathered pillow accompanied Peter to the ground.
"Not that I'm against larceny for its own sake," said Peter, removing the same boot from the same sore spot on his back - he was sure it'd bruise delightfully - "and especially not when it's to redress great wrongs. But I'm sure there are better ways to set this right."
"And you'd know all about that," Mary huffed. "You're a King, not an archaeologist. An ex-King."
"Kings know a few things about how to dismantle a revered hero," Peter said. "I think these heroes have it coming, and I think you're just the one to knock the statues down."
"Get the gin while you're down there," Mary finally replied, "and then tell me what you're thinking."