Jack closed the door and leant heavily against it. What a day. What a total mess up of a lousy day. An old saying his mom often quoted popped, unbidden into his exhausted mind - disasters always come in threes. Yup, sounded about right.
First, the mission. A routine bore-fest, babysitting damn scientists who managed to find every cursed grain of sand totally fascinating. Sand is sand is sand to Jack. When you've seen one grain you've seen 'em all. And despite the industrial strength showers at the SGC there were still one or two rogue little buggers lurking in those more difficult to reach places. Oh yes, he could still feel them, between his toes, between his...
Second, the truck. Totally reliable the salesman had assured him, best on the market for reliability, designed by the smartest engineers never to give its owner a single moment of bother. "Never let you down sir," the fresh faced salesman had promised. Yeah, right. Engineers were currently right up there with scientists in Jack's estimation. So that's why he'd found himself on the shoulder of the usually busy road from the base, staring down into an engine that looked as if it'd be more at home on the space shuttle. He was a Colonel in the United States Air Force for Christ's sake, he could fly anything, he'd been everywhere, seen everything, even started a couple of wars. Could he fix his truck? Could he hell. One quick glance at the grease and engine oil ingrained in the creases in the skin of his hands showed what a monumental mess he'd made of attempting to fix the clearly unfixable.
As if that wasn't bad enough, a road that normally maintained steady stream of Air Force traffic was suddenly empty. Emptier than the desert on Abydos (a simile which made those stray grains of sand Jack was still harbouring move around some more). Not even one of those nasty, smelly, slobbering creatures indigenous to said planet to cadge a lift on back to base. Nothing.
Nada. Zip. Cell phone. Was naturally dead, battery flat, left uncharged while he was off world.
The day could hardly get any worse.
Wrong.
Three. Three was just the icing on the cake. After finally thumbing a lift back to base and borrowing a vehicle he'd finally made it home, several hours later than planned, but that was okay, there was a cold beer in the fridge with his name on it and boy was he going to enjoy it. He was pretty sure the beer was still in the fridge, he'd never actually gotten round to looking. The water pouring steadily through the kitchen ceiling from a fractured water pipe above had kind of pushed the idea to the back of his mind. Jack stood, transfixed, in the centre of his devastated kitchen, cursing roundly as water seeped up the legs of his jeans and over the tops of his boots. Great. Marvellous. Fantastic. His life was just so peachy. So fucking peachy.
Teal'c and Jonas were off doing whatever it was they'd recently taken to doing together, an eating contest most like. Sam wasn't picking up either at home or on her cell. Which left Janet. Who wasn't home either but Cassandra had swung in to action and was soon pulling up outside Jack's house with a flourish, spinning wheels kicking loose gravel chips up to ping off the car's rusty paintwork. Good job Janet hadn't given in to Cassie's endless hints and bought her a new car when the kid first got her licence Jack thought.
"Hey Jack," Cass waved cheerily. "Jump in."
"Maybe I should drive," Jack moved toward the driver's door. "Getting in a car wreck is not how I want to end my perfect day."
"D'you want to come stay with us or spend the night under water?" Cass gave him one of her famous 'looks', an exact replica of Janet at her most formidable. It was all Jack could do not to flinch. "Well?" she pushed, looking mutinous.
"Okay, fine, kid." Jack climbed into the passenger seat. "Just remember I'm an old man and adjust your driving style accordingly. I do not wish to take this ride with you only to end up with your mom doctoring to me. That I so don't need."
"Oh relax Jack, I'm an excellent driver."
"Yeah, right." Jack snapped shut the safety belt, yanked discretely on its fixings to make sure they would hold, sank down in the seat, pulled his cap down over his eyes and prayed the sound of the racing engine would mask his whimpers of fear. Please God, which ever one happens to be listening right about now, please let me be alive at the end of this white-knuckle ride.
"You can open your eyes now, you big brave Colonel you," Cass pulled on the parking brake and killed the engine. Silence had never seemed so sweet. Never had Jack been so relieved to be getting out of a vehicle with all his limbs in tact.
"Sure it's all over?" he asked warily.
"You are the most ungrateful..."
"I need a drink."
"You need a bath," Cass wrinkled her nose. "All covered in oil and dirt."
"And sweat, don't forget lots and lots of sweat thanks to you. I think, no I'm fairly sure that's all, I am an Air Force Colonel after all, but for a moment back there, when your speeding wheels happened to make contact with the sidewalk, it was touch and go."
"Jack!" Cassandra smacked his arm. "You're disgusting."
"You're a teenager, does pot, kettle and black ring any bells?" Jack countered.
"Oh get in the house you old misery."
Jack got.
And so there he was, the bathroom door closed to the heavy beat of Cassandra's music, and, if he wasn't mistaken the phone was ringing, another distraction for his rescuer. If Janet's dark mutterings at the base were anything to go by, Cassandra had yet to spend less than an hour on the phone to her friends at any one time.
"There are towels in the cupboard, and use whatever you need," Cass had instructed as he'd headed up the stairs. "I'll make us some supper when you're done."
"Great, one more shock for my poor old system," he'd muttered but not quietly enough to pass her by.
Glancing round, Jack discovered something he'd never before noticed, despite being a regular visitor to Janet's house; this particular bathroom had no shower. Which was a damn shame. He'd been looking forward to a shower. Real men didn't do baths. There had to be a shower in another bathroom... no, Cass had directed him here, so here he would stay. A bath it was. Just so long as no-one ever found out.
Sinking into the tub, water up to his chin, Jack let his eyes close and simply enjoyed the sensation of being immersed in piping hot water. Sure felt better than the last time he'd been up to his neck, and beyond, in water. Bottom of the ocean hadn't felt like this. No sir.
When Jack eventually opened his eyes, he topped up the cooling water and took a moment to look at his surroundings. Nice. A cluttered family bath, a lot like the one he used to share with Sara. Yes, he was surrounded by 'girlie' things, lots and lots of bottles of every size and description. Why do women need so many bottles? And what on earth were they all for? He snapped open the lids on those closest and sniffed. Mm, fruity. What was it? Shampoo, conditioner, bath oil. Why should shampoo smell of fruit? If he lived to be a hundred Jack would never get women, never understand them. And maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. A little knowledge on that front could prove dangerous in the extreme.
On the shelf there was something Jack had never seen before. Something round, baseball sized, wrapped in a clear bag with a fancy label. Curious. And Jack was nothing if not curious. He snagged one of the balls from the shelf and took a closer look at the label. 'Bath Bomb. Just place in a filled tub and watch it go.' Go? Go where? What in the hell was a Bath Bomb? Would it explode? Could he put it back on the shelf and not find out? Nah.
The label popped and the ball dropped into his hand. Time to find out just what a Bath Bomb actually was and did.
It fizzed. A lot. Like sitting in a bath of soft pink Alka-seltzer. An interesting experience. He lifted it out. It kept on fizzing. Crap. And fizzing. Jack let it fall back in the water. Maybe Janet and Cassandra wouldn't notice if one of their Bath Bombs was missing, there were plenty more on the shelf. Yes, they'd never notice. They wouldn't think old Colonel Jack was losing it adding 'stuff' to his bath water. If only the damn thing would stop fizzing.
Jack swooshed the now dwindling bomb around in the water until at last it fizzed its last. Much to his relief. The bath now smelt distinctly feminine but at least he wasn't surrounded by bubbles. Bubbles and he would have been out of there. The smell wouldn't last, it was quite subtle and Jack was pretty sure it was beginning to fade already. So maybe a few more minutes in the bath wouldn't kill him. A few more minutes and then he'd get out.
"Jack, you still in there?"
Janet's voice jerked him awake. "Hm? Yeah, I'm still in here."
"Much longer and you'll beat Cassie's bathroom record. Supper's ready when you are."
"Thanks Janet, I'll be right there."
The water was barely warm; he must have drifted off to sleep. Jack ducked his head under the water one last time and climbed out, fingers and toes wrinkled like prunes but definitely no latent grains of sand, no trace of engine grease, of that he was certain. Maybe, he mused as he rubbed himself briskly with a large, fluffy towel, maybe it wouldn't kill him to take a bath from time to time. Purely as a deep cleaning exercise you understand. And no Bath Bombs.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Mom," Cassie said over breakfast the next morning, long after Jack had gone to meet the plumber and rescue his kitchen.
"Yes hon?"
"Did you notice anything strange about Jack?"
"Strange in what way?" Janet wanted to know.
"Like... glittery strange."
"Oh yeah, I noticed," Janet said with a smile. "Lots of sparkle about Jack this morning. And if you would care to count those weird bomb things you put in your bath I think you might find you're one short."
"Jack used one of my Bath Bombs! No way."
"Hey, you let Jack loose in your bathroom, did you honestly expect him not to have a poke about, nose around. Remember this is Jack, he who likes to know everything."
"And you let him leave here this morning, covered in sparkles?" Cassie's eyes were round as saucers, laughter close.
"Oh yes," Janet carried on pouring herself a fresh coffee. "Well, I didn't want to embarrass him un-necessarily."
"Mom, that is so cool!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jack strolled into the commissary. Lunchtime. His kitchen was still out of action at home, the plumber had, not unsurprisingly, not had the right piece of pipe or doohickey or whatever and was scheduled to return the following day. So back to the base it was for a meal and a flake out in his private quarters.
"Hey Colonel," Jonas slid an overflowing tray on the table next to Jack's. "I thought you had a couple of days leave."
"Yeah, well, water pipe broken at home, so here I am. Where's Teal'c?"
"Finishing off in the gym, he'll be along shortly."
"Sure you got enough there?" Jack asked, pointing to the groaning plate.
"Do you think I might need more?" Jonas asked in all seriousness.
"No Jonas," Jack replied with a sigh. "It was a joke."
"Oh. Right," Jonas grinned at him. "Nice one." And began demolishing the pile of food before him.
"O'Neill."
"Hey Teal'c," Jack scooted further down the table as Teal'c lowered his considerable bulk alongside, depositing a tray to rival Jonas'. "Good workout?"
"Indeed."
Silence reigned, broken only by the occasional scrape of silverware on china.
"O'Neill," said Teal'c, as the last piece of pie vanished from his plate.
"Teal'c."
"You appear to be... sparkling."
"What?" Jack gawped at him.
"Sparkling."
"Teal'c, I do not sparkle."
"I'm afraid he's right Colonel," added Jonas. "I kind of noticed it myself earlier, just didn't like to mention it."
"What exactly do you mean, sparkling?" Jack demanded.
"Your skin, and your hair, it's sort of glinting in the light. May I?" Jonas asked.
"May you what?" Jack wanted to know.
Jonas reached across the table and deftly removed a small piece of glitter from Jack's chin. "There," he showed him. "Glitter."
"What the...?"
Teal'c flicked the Colonel's ear and more tiny particles of glitter cascaded down.
Shit.
Jack jumped up and fled the commissary, returning only to hiss to his two team members, "Not a single word of this to anyone."
Jonas and Teal'c nodded dumbly, both too close to laughter to be able to speak.
It had to be that goddamn Bath Bomb. Which meant...
Janet and Cassie had allowed him to leave their house that morning covered in glitter. The plumber. Jack groaned. He'd snarled at the plumber - covered in glitter. He was going to kill somebody; he just had to decide who to start with. There were plenty of contenders.
"Colonel?" Sam's voice broke through his haze of anger and humiliation. "Sir? Is everything all right?"
"Fine Major, fine. I just need to... shower. Yeah, gotta shower. Later Carter."
"Yes sir. Um sir?"
"What?" Jack asked through gritted teeth, wanting simply to get to the locker room as quick as possible.
"Did you know you seem to be covered in glitter sir?"
"Thank you Carter," words came out like bullets. "I am well aware."
"Okay," she backed away and turn to bid a hasty retreat from one seriously unhinged Colonel.
"Carter."
"Sir?"
Jack took a deep breath. "I don't suppose you happen to have a brush in your locker?"
"Brush sir?"
"Scrubbing brush, you know the kind of thing you use on floors."
"Um, no sir, I don't have a scrubbing brush in my locker. I do have a nail brush."
Nail brush. Jack tried to conjure a picture of a nail brush. Small. But it did have bristles. Better than nothing. "Thank you Carter. Can you fetch it for me?"
"Yes sir." Sam shot off toward the female locker room, grateful to escape. The Colonel clearly had issues, and she had no intention of getting in any deeper thank you very much. She'd seen that look in his eye a hundred times before and it never boded well for the person on the receiving end of his wrath. And why in God's name would he think she might keep a scrubbing brush in her locker? To do a spot of cleaning up when the fancy took her? Once again Colonel O'Neill had thrown her completely. Best get him the nail brush and retreat to a safe distance. Like California maybe.
A nail brush. Jack sagged against the corridor wall. This was going to take hours. Plenty of time then to plan his revenge on the owner of the Bath Bomb. That teenager was in for some serious retribution. Oh yes. Payback was guaranteed. He just had to figure out when and where.
AUTHOR'S NOTE. This latest piece of drabble all came about from a real life experience, picking glittery bits off the skin of my husband above the collar of his shirt before he went to school. Glitter and teaching Maths - not a winning combination. Which will teach him not to take a Bath Bomb bath... In addition my son is currently learning to drive and whilst I love him to pieces I have vowed not to get back in the car with him until he has passed his test and has some serious mileage under his belt. Oh, and if anyone's interested, Bath Bombs are produced by a company called Lush (available on-line) and I highly recommend them, although one or two do come with a bit of a twist...
My thanks as always to aligater for setting me off on this particular course and managing to still enjoy the story despite my setting it during Season 6.
First, the mission. A routine bore-fest, babysitting damn scientists who managed to find every cursed grain of sand totally fascinating. Sand is sand is sand to Jack. When you've seen one grain you've seen 'em all. And despite the industrial strength showers at the SGC there were still one or two rogue little buggers lurking in those more difficult to reach places. Oh yes, he could still feel them, between his toes, between his...
Second, the truck. Totally reliable the salesman had assured him, best on the market for reliability, designed by the smartest engineers never to give its owner a single moment of bother. "Never let you down sir," the fresh faced salesman had promised. Yeah, right. Engineers were currently right up there with scientists in Jack's estimation. So that's why he'd found himself on the shoulder of the usually busy road from the base, staring down into an engine that looked as if it'd be more at home on the space shuttle. He was a Colonel in the United States Air Force for Christ's sake, he could fly anything, he'd been everywhere, seen everything, even started a couple of wars. Could he fix his truck? Could he hell. One quick glance at the grease and engine oil ingrained in the creases in the skin of his hands showed what a monumental mess he'd made of attempting to fix the clearly unfixable.
As if that wasn't bad enough, a road that normally maintained steady stream of Air Force traffic was suddenly empty. Emptier than the desert on Abydos (a simile which made those stray grains of sand Jack was still harbouring move around some more). Not even one of those nasty, smelly, slobbering creatures indigenous to said planet to cadge a lift on back to base. Nothing.
Nada. Zip. Cell phone. Was naturally dead, battery flat, left uncharged while he was off world.
The day could hardly get any worse.
Wrong.
Three. Three was just the icing on the cake. After finally thumbing a lift back to base and borrowing a vehicle he'd finally made it home, several hours later than planned, but that was okay, there was a cold beer in the fridge with his name on it and boy was he going to enjoy it. He was pretty sure the beer was still in the fridge, he'd never actually gotten round to looking. The water pouring steadily through the kitchen ceiling from a fractured water pipe above had kind of pushed the idea to the back of his mind. Jack stood, transfixed, in the centre of his devastated kitchen, cursing roundly as water seeped up the legs of his jeans and over the tops of his boots. Great. Marvellous. Fantastic. His life was just so peachy. So fucking peachy.
Teal'c and Jonas were off doing whatever it was they'd recently taken to doing together, an eating contest most like. Sam wasn't picking up either at home or on her cell. Which left Janet. Who wasn't home either but Cassandra had swung in to action and was soon pulling up outside Jack's house with a flourish, spinning wheels kicking loose gravel chips up to ping off the car's rusty paintwork. Good job Janet hadn't given in to Cassie's endless hints and bought her a new car when the kid first got her licence Jack thought.
"Hey Jack," Cass waved cheerily. "Jump in."
"Maybe I should drive," Jack moved toward the driver's door. "Getting in a car wreck is not how I want to end my perfect day."
"D'you want to come stay with us or spend the night under water?" Cass gave him one of her famous 'looks', an exact replica of Janet at her most formidable. It was all Jack could do not to flinch. "Well?" she pushed, looking mutinous.
"Okay, fine, kid." Jack climbed into the passenger seat. "Just remember I'm an old man and adjust your driving style accordingly. I do not wish to take this ride with you only to end up with your mom doctoring to me. That I so don't need."
"Oh relax Jack, I'm an excellent driver."
"Yeah, right." Jack snapped shut the safety belt, yanked discretely on its fixings to make sure they would hold, sank down in the seat, pulled his cap down over his eyes and prayed the sound of the racing engine would mask his whimpers of fear. Please God, which ever one happens to be listening right about now, please let me be alive at the end of this white-knuckle ride.
"You can open your eyes now, you big brave Colonel you," Cass pulled on the parking brake and killed the engine. Silence had never seemed so sweet. Never had Jack been so relieved to be getting out of a vehicle with all his limbs in tact.
"Sure it's all over?" he asked warily.
"You are the most ungrateful..."
"I need a drink."
"You need a bath," Cass wrinkled her nose. "All covered in oil and dirt."
"And sweat, don't forget lots and lots of sweat thanks to you. I think, no I'm fairly sure that's all, I am an Air Force Colonel after all, but for a moment back there, when your speeding wheels happened to make contact with the sidewalk, it was touch and go."
"Jack!" Cassandra smacked his arm. "You're disgusting."
"You're a teenager, does pot, kettle and black ring any bells?" Jack countered.
"Oh get in the house you old misery."
Jack got.
And so there he was, the bathroom door closed to the heavy beat of Cassandra's music, and, if he wasn't mistaken the phone was ringing, another distraction for his rescuer. If Janet's dark mutterings at the base were anything to go by, Cassandra had yet to spend less than an hour on the phone to her friends at any one time.
"There are towels in the cupboard, and use whatever you need," Cass had instructed as he'd headed up the stairs. "I'll make us some supper when you're done."
"Great, one more shock for my poor old system," he'd muttered but not quietly enough to pass her by.
Glancing round, Jack discovered something he'd never before noticed, despite being a regular visitor to Janet's house; this particular bathroom had no shower. Which was a damn shame. He'd been looking forward to a shower. Real men didn't do baths. There had to be a shower in another bathroom... no, Cass had directed him here, so here he would stay. A bath it was. Just so long as no-one ever found out.
Sinking into the tub, water up to his chin, Jack let his eyes close and simply enjoyed the sensation of being immersed in piping hot water. Sure felt better than the last time he'd been up to his neck, and beyond, in water. Bottom of the ocean hadn't felt like this. No sir.
When Jack eventually opened his eyes, he topped up the cooling water and took a moment to look at his surroundings. Nice. A cluttered family bath, a lot like the one he used to share with Sara. Yes, he was surrounded by 'girlie' things, lots and lots of bottles of every size and description. Why do women need so many bottles? And what on earth were they all for? He snapped open the lids on those closest and sniffed. Mm, fruity. What was it? Shampoo, conditioner, bath oil. Why should shampoo smell of fruit? If he lived to be a hundred Jack would never get women, never understand them. And maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. A little knowledge on that front could prove dangerous in the extreme.
On the shelf there was something Jack had never seen before. Something round, baseball sized, wrapped in a clear bag with a fancy label. Curious. And Jack was nothing if not curious. He snagged one of the balls from the shelf and took a closer look at the label. 'Bath Bomb. Just place in a filled tub and watch it go.' Go? Go where? What in the hell was a Bath Bomb? Would it explode? Could he put it back on the shelf and not find out? Nah.
The label popped and the ball dropped into his hand. Time to find out just what a Bath Bomb actually was and did.
It fizzed. A lot. Like sitting in a bath of soft pink Alka-seltzer. An interesting experience. He lifted it out. It kept on fizzing. Crap. And fizzing. Jack let it fall back in the water. Maybe Janet and Cassandra wouldn't notice if one of their Bath Bombs was missing, there were plenty more on the shelf. Yes, they'd never notice. They wouldn't think old Colonel Jack was losing it adding 'stuff' to his bath water. If only the damn thing would stop fizzing.
Jack swooshed the now dwindling bomb around in the water until at last it fizzed its last. Much to his relief. The bath now smelt distinctly feminine but at least he wasn't surrounded by bubbles. Bubbles and he would have been out of there. The smell wouldn't last, it was quite subtle and Jack was pretty sure it was beginning to fade already. So maybe a few more minutes in the bath wouldn't kill him. A few more minutes and then he'd get out.
"Jack, you still in there?"
Janet's voice jerked him awake. "Hm? Yeah, I'm still in here."
"Much longer and you'll beat Cassie's bathroom record. Supper's ready when you are."
"Thanks Janet, I'll be right there."
The water was barely warm; he must have drifted off to sleep. Jack ducked his head under the water one last time and climbed out, fingers and toes wrinkled like prunes but definitely no latent grains of sand, no trace of engine grease, of that he was certain. Maybe, he mused as he rubbed himself briskly with a large, fluffy towel, maybe it wouldn't kill him to take a bath from time to time. Purely as a deep cleaning exercise you understand. And no Bath Bombs.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Mom," Cassie said over breakfast the next morning, long after Jack had gone to meet the plumber and rescue his kitchen.
"Yes hon?"
"Did you notice anything strange about Jack?"
"Strange in what way?" Janet wanted to know.
"Like... glittery strange."
"Oh yeah, I noticed," Janet said with a smile. "Lots of sparkle about Jack this morning. And if you would care to count those weird bomb things you put in your bath I think you might find you're one short."
"Jack used one of my Bath Bombs! No way."
"Hey, you let Jack loose in your bathroom, did you honestly expect him not to have a poke about, nose around. Remember this is Jack, he who likes to know everything."
"And you let him leave here this morning, covered in sparkles?" Cassie's eyes were round as saucers, laughter close.
"Oh yes," Janet carried on pouring herself a fresh coffee. "Well, I didn't want to embarrass him un-necessarily."
"Mom, that is so cool!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jack strolled into the commissary. Lunchtime. His kitchen was still out of action at home, the plumber had, not unsurprisingly, not had the right piece of pipe or doohickey or whatever and was scheduled to return the following day. So back to the base it was for a meal and a flake out in his private quarters.
"Hey Colonel," Jonas slid an overflowing tray on the table next to Jack's. "I thought you had a couple of days leave."
"Yeah, well, water pipe broken at home, so here I am. Where's Teal'c?"
"Finishing off in the gym, he'll be along shortly."
"Sure you got enough there?" Jack asked, pointing to the groaning plate.
"Do you think I might need more?" Jonas asked in all seriousness.
"No Jonas," Jack replied with a sigh. "It was a joke."
"Oh. Right," Jonas grinned at him. "Nice one." And began demolishing the pile of food before him.
"O'Neill."
"Hey Teal'c," Jack scooted further down the table as Teal'c lowered his considerable bulk alongside, depositing a tray to rival Jonas'. "Good workout?"
"Indeed."
Silence reigned, broken only by the occasional scrape of silverware on china.
"O'Neill," said Teal'c, as the last piece of pie vanished from his plate.
"Teal'c."
"You appear to be... sparkling."
"What?" Jack gawped at him.
"Sparkling."
"Teal'c, I do not sparkle."
"I'm afraid he's right Colonel," added Jonas. "I kind of noticed it myself earlier, just didn't like to mention it."
"What exactly do you mean, sparkling?" Jack demanded.
"Your skin, and your hair, it's sort of glinting in the light. May I?" Jonas asked.
"May you what?" Jack wanted to know.
Jonas reached across the table and deftly removed a small piece of glitter from Jack's chin. "There," he showed him. "Glitter."
"What the...?"
Teal'c flicked the Colonel's ear and more tiny particles of glitter cascaded down.
Shit.
Jack jumped up and fled the commissary, returning only to hiss to his two team members, "Not a single word of this to anyone."
Jonas and Teal'c nodded dumbly, both too close to laughter to be able to speak.
It had to be that goddamn Bath Bomb. Which meant...
Janet and Cassie had allowed him to leave their house that morning covered in glitter. The plumber. Jack groaned. He'd snarled at the plumber - covered in glitter. He was going to kill somebody; he just had to decide who to start with. There were plenty of contenders.
"Colonel?" Sam's voice broke through his haze of anger and humiliation. "Sir? Is everything all right?"
"Fine Major, fine. I just need to... shower. Yeah, gotta shower. Later Carter."
"Yes sir. Um sir?"
"What?" Jack asked through gritted teeth, wanting simply to get to the locker room as quick as possible.
"Did you know you seem to be covered in glitter sir?"
"Thank you Carter," words came out like bullets. "I am well aware."
"Okay," she backed away and turn to bid a hasty retreat from one seriously unhinged Colonel.
"Carter."
"Sir?"
Jack took a deep breath. "I don't suppose you happen to have a brush in your locker?"
"Brush sir?"
"Scrubbing brush, you know the kind of thing you use on floors."
"Um, no sir, I don't have a scrubbing brush in my locker. I do have a nail brush."
Nail brush. Jack tried to conjure a picture of a nail brush. Small. But it did have bristles. Better than nothing. "Thank you Carter. Can you fetch it for me?"
"Yes sir." Sam shot off toward the female locker room, grateful to escape. The Colonel clearly had issues, and she had no intention of getting in any deeper thank you very much. She'd seen that look in his eye a hundred times before and it never boded well for the person on the receiving end of his wrath. And why in God's name would he think she might keep a scrubbing brush in her locker? To do a spot of cleaning up when the fancy took her? Once again Colonel O'Neill had thrown her completely. Best get him the nail brush and retreat to a safe distance. Like California maybe.
A nail brush. Jack sagged against the corridor wall. This was going to take hours. Plenty of time then to plan his revenge on the owner of the Bath Bomb. That teenager was in for some serious retribution. Oh yes. Payback was guaranteed. He just had to figure out when and where.
AUTHOR'S NOTE. This latest piece of drabble all came about from a real life experience, picking glittery bits off the skin of my husband above the collar of his shirt before he went to school. Glitter and teaching Maths - not a winning combination. Which will teach him not to take a Bath Bomb bath... In addition my son is currently learning to drive and whilst I love him to pieces I have vowed not to get back in the car with him until he has passed his test and has some serious mileage under his belt. Oh, and if anyone's interested, Bath Bombs are produced by a company called Lush (available on-line) and I highly recommend them, although one or two do come with a bit of a twist...
My thanks as always to aligater for setting me off on this particular course and managing to still enjoy the story despite my setting it during Season 6.