TITLE: The Ritual
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Linguistics Database, EntSTFic, Luminosity, yes, anyone else, just ask.
CATEGORY: Humor/fluff
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: Hoshi is less than thrilled by the results of *this* first contact.
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and all its crew belong to Paramount and many other entities with expensive lawyers. I am making no profit from this story.
NOTES: This is a response to a Challenge in a Can from the Linguistics Database (http://judy.jteers.net/lingdata/indexframe.html). As usual, I'll reveal my challenge at the end. This was just another one of those odd ideas that came up during my vacation last year. Don't ask me about this one, 'cause I couldn't explain it. Thanks for the beta go to Captain Average, the superhero who laughed.
* * * * *
Hoshi gently banged her head against the wooden wall behind her. If she survived this experience without committing either homicide or suicide, nobody, absolutely *nobody*, was going to believe her.
Scrubbing her hands across her face, she wiped off the sweat that had formed. In the humidity of the small room, there was nowhere for it to go, so it rolled down her neck, tickling like a trail of insects.
The sweat ran under the sodden towel wrapped around her and Hoshi shifted uncomfortably on the bench. Through the steam, sounds drifted toward her, oddly muffled and yet echoing at the same time.
She couldn't decide if it was worse to listen or to try and block out the sounds around her. Trying to distract herself, she went back to finding human equivalents to the smells of the room. At least it wasn't the pine smell that she hated so much. Vanilla? Maybe, but a sharp vanilla, if such a thing were possible. With just a hint of seaweed.
The steam cleared for a few moments with an eddy of air, and she got a good look at the noisemakers on the other side. Hoshi had to admit that the view, at least, was impeccable. Lined up in a row, black towels wrapped around their waists, and muscular damp chests on display, were Jon, Trip, Malcolm, and Travis.
If only they could be quiet and let her enjoy the view, things would be fairly peachy. Well, toasty, but bearable. But no, the Captain insisted that if the Enterprise crew was going to join the festival ritual, they weren't going to do it halfway. In between making the abominable noise that was tormenting her, they were swigging a foamy white liquid out of huge mugs.
When they returned to the ship, she and Dr. Phlox were going to have a little talk about the exact definition of the words "mild intoxicant."
But first, a suitable revenge would be prepared for the helpful alien who said that participants often sang as they sat in the steam.
The noise died down, and the four men stopped singing and started comparing their present experience to other first contacts. Unfortunately, the "mild intoxicant" seemed to have reduced their vocabularies by a large amount, and they replaced many of the words they were groping for with "thingummy" and "whatchamacallit."
Hoshi banged her head against the wall behind her as the four men opened their mouths and resumed their song. The same song they'd been singing for at least the last hour.
"Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer..."
* * * * *
My challenge was linguist/torment/sauna. What would *you* have done?
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Linguistics Database, EntSTFic, Luminosity, yes, anyone else, just ask.
CATEGORY: Humor/fluff
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: Hoshi is less than thrilled by the results of *this* first contact.
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and all its crew belong to Paramount and many other entities with expensive lawyers. I am making no profit from this story.
NOTES: This is a response to a Challenge in a Can from the Linguistics Database (http://judy.jteers.net/lingdata/indexframe.html). As usual, I'll reveal my challenge at the end. This was just another one of those odd ideas that came up during my vacation last year. Don't ask me about this one, 'cause I couldn't explain it. Thanks for the beta go to Captain Average, the superhero who laughed.
* * * * *
Hoshi gently banged her head against the wooden wall behind her. If she survived this experience without committing either homicide or suicide, nobody, absolutely *nobody*, was going to believe her.
Scrubbing her hands across her face, she wiped off the sweat that had formed. In the humidity of the small room, there was nowhere for it to go, so it rolled down her neck, tickling like a trail of insects.
The sweat ran under the sodden towel wrapped around her and Hoshi shifted uncomfortably on the bench. Through the steam, sounds drifted toward her, oddly muffled and yet echoing at the same time.
She couldn't decide if it was worse to listen or to try and block out the sounds around her. Trying to distract herself, she went back to finding human equivalents to the smells of the room. At least it wasn't the pine smell that she hated so much. Vanilla? Maybe, but a sharp vanilla, if such a thing were possible. With just a hint of seaweed.
The steam cleared for a few moments with an eddy of air, and she got a good look at the noisemakers on the other side. Hoshi had to admit that the view, at least, was impeccable. Lined up in a row, black towels wrapped around their waists, and muscular damp chests on display, were Jon, Trip, Malcolm, and Travis.
If only they could be quiet and let her enjoy the view, things would be fairly peachy. Well, toasty, but bearable. But no, the Captain insisted that if the Enterprise crew was going to join the festival ritual, they weren't going to do it halfway. In between making the abominable noise that was tormenting her, they were swigging a foamy white liquid out of huge mugs.
When they returned to the ship, she and Dr. Phlox were going to have a little talk about the exact definition of the words "mild intoxicant."
But first, a suitable revenge would be prepared for the helpful alien who said that participants often sang as they sat in the steam.
The noise died down, and the four men stopped singing and started comparing their present experience to other first contacts. Unfortunately, the "mild intoxicant" seemed to have reduced their vocabularies by a large amount, and they replaced many of the words they were groping for with "thingummy" and "whatchamacallit."
Hoshi banged her head against the wall behind her as the four men opened their mouths and resumed their song. The same song they'd been singing for at least the last hour.
"Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer..."
* * * * *
My challenge was linguist/torment/sauna. What would *you* have done?