Sporky Meese!
Ok, so fair warning: this has no point. There, I've admitted it. So don't whine about how… pointless it is, because I just told you. And because it's pointless, it doesn't all have to make sense, right? Right. Ok, now that we've got that all straight…
Sark sighed to himself. His current disagreement with one Agent Michael Vaughn was once again causing him to doubt the true intelligence of the Central Intelligence Agency. Obviously, Vaughn had absolutely no clue what he was talking about. His ignorance made Sark sick to his stomach.
"Why are you so stubborn?" Vaughn questioned.
"Me? You're the one who just can't admit it when he's wrong. Which you are, by the way. Wrong, that is."
"What? I'm not wrong here. You are. But hey, that's nothing new. You're the bad guy, you're always wrong."
"You know, it's not always so cut and paste… so black and white… so crystal clear… so-"
"I get the point! There are shades of gray, don't judge a book by it's cover, don't count your chickens before they hatch." Sark stared at him.
"Chickens have nothing to do with this."
"Do you have a point?"
"Of course. I'm Mr. Sark, I always have a point. And in this case, my point is, the plural of moose is meese." Vaughn shook his head and sighed in exasperation.
"No. It's moosepotami. Everyone knows that."
"Now you're just making up silly words."
"No I'm not. That's the true answer. Meese… now, that is a silly word." Suddenly, Will appeared from out of nowhere. (well, it probably was somewhere. Will's actually not an alien, so he can't come from nowhere. And hey, even if he were an alien, he'd have to come from somewhere, right? Right. So, for the sake of logic, which this fic obviously depends highly upon, we shall instead say…) from out of the 3rd story window, Will appeared, and joined in the argument.
"You're both wrong. It's moose. Everyone with half a brain knows that."
"Oh, so you only have half a brain?" Sark queried.
"No, I have two halves! I mean, a whole one!"
"I somehow doubt that…" Sark said dryly.
"Will, I don't doubt your intelligence, but it's not moose. Moose is just for when you're talking about one. For multiple, it's moosepotami." Sark and Will sighed simultaneously. Annoyed at the obviously diminished intelligence of the other two men, Sark turned and reached for a spork to finish eating his ice cream. (What happened to the utensil he began eating with, you ask? No one knows… but whatever happened, it was probably Sloane's fault.) Anyway, as I was saying, Sark grabbed a spork to finish his sorbet… did I say ice cream? Oops. Oh well, now it's sorbet.
Spying (because he is, of course. A spy.) Sark grab the spork, Vaughn gasped dramatically and tried to grab the awe inspiring utensil from his nemesis.
"That's the last spork!" he shouted. Sark blinked and turned to glare at him.
"You're not more than a foot away. Screaming is not necessary."
"I didn't scream" Vaughn protested.
"Uh… yeah you did," Will said timidly.
"Shut up," Vaughn growled.
"Make me!" Will retorted. Sark sat back to watch, and finish his frozen yogurt… or whatever was in his bowl. It was cold, that's all we know for sure. Suddenly, Will stumbled back into Sark, and his bowl of cold stuff flew all over him… and the spork flew into the pool behind him. All three men gasped, and watched the precious item drift to the bottom of the pool. Sark glared at Will.
"Look what you've done, you imbecile!"
"It's not my fault… he pushed me!" Will sputtered, pointing at Vaughn.
"Oh sure, blame me."
"Why wouldn't I? You caused it!"
"Well if Sark hadn't taken the last spork, we wouldn't be in this predicament to begin with!"
"I take offense to that!" Sark stated.
"Noted," Vaughn replied dryly. With an angry noise (yeah, that's as descriptive as we're getting. Deal with it. Imagine it yourself. Good job.) Sark pounced, tackling Vaughn to the grass. They rolled around for a few moments, each battling for control, until they hit Will, and all three somehow ended up in the pool. They stood up simultaneously, and all began swinging at one another. At some point during the fray, Vaughn's white shirt was ripped, exposing his dripping chest. He posed dramatically for a long moment, until Sark and Will elbowed him, causing him to fall face first into the grass.
As Vaughn attempted to recover, Sark and Will continued battling. Sark easily got the upper hand, being a much more experienced fighter than Will could ever hope to be. Sark tripped Will, who splashed into the shallow water and began gasping for breath… until he realized that it was only a two feet deep kiddie pool. At that point, he stood up in annoyance, finding that his shirt had gone completely missing. With an aggravated sigh, he grabbed at Sark's shirt, until Vaughn rejoined the battle, and they both began ripping at Sark's clothing… only the top half people, stay out of that gutter! The shirt ripped in half, causing Vaughn and Will both to go flying, and leaving the soaked Sark standing alone in the pool.
He jumped out, and was about to attack the other two men, when a shocked voice interrupted their shenanigans.
"What in the hell is going on here?" All three men stopped what they were doing immediately, and slowly turned, with sheepish looks on their faces, to see Sydney Bristow standing just a few feet away, hands on hips, looking utterly confused… though not entirely upset… and waiting for some kind of response.
No answer was forthcoming, and they all stood there staring at one another for a few moments. Finally, Sydney sighed.
"I'm waiting!"
Ok, that's about it for now… just a slight (very slight) departure from the angst I love so much… but I think I'll return home tomorrow, and carry on with my normal stuff… well, normal in relative terms… eh, whatever. If you have no idea what this fic is about, I can assure you- you're not alone.
