Show: NUMB3RS
Genre: Humor
Rated: K
Summary: Hmm…why on Earth is Charlie digging through Don's old Monty Python tapes? You will appreciate this more if you have seen The Holy Grail, though anyone can follow it. Read and review, s'il vous plait.
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own NUMB3RS. Yup, I wish I did. Yup, I LOVE Don Eppes to death. Yup, I'll settle for a Don/Terry romance instead. Nope, I have no life to speak of – must you ask?
"Unlaiden Swallow"
Don Eppes opened the door to his father's old house, which now belonged to his brother Charlie, and sighed as he stepped into the cool, comfortable kitchen. Los Angeles in July was certainly what he considered to be unpleasant given the sweltering heat and unrelenting humidity of the city, and this week had been particularly brutal because of the heat wave that had engulfed the south-western part of the United States. For his part, Don had become especially aware of the marvelous invention of air-conditioning during the past week and felt like crying with happiness that his father had chosen to crank it to maximum that afternoon.
Tossing his sunglasses and cell phone on the counter, Don took off his jacket and loosened his tie. He moved to the fridge and stared at the contents until a large container of iced tea caught his eye. He was about to go find a glass in the pantry, but with a quick glance over his shoulder and shrug of his shoulders, he chugged it straight from the carton. His mother always admonished him not to do that when he was a teenager, but these were desperate times – it was over 100 degrees outside, and well, he was a guy. Wasn't that expected and accepted behavior?
Having finished the entire quart of iced tea he threw away the carton and gave a small belch of pleasure. He kicked off his loafers and began to wander through the house looking for his brother and father. Passing the front window, he noticed his father's car was missing for the driveway – probably out picking up some things for dinner, he mused. Next, he began his hunt for Charlie. He searched the usual places including the small study, the dining room where he normally graded papers, and finally the shed, where he found only several dusty chalkboards and carelessly discarded chalk bits.
Puzzled at his brother's apparent absence, Don decided to begin a thorough search of the entire house beginning with the upstairs bedrooms and working his way down. He found nobody and finally came to a stop outside of the rarely used living room. To his surprise he could hear the softly muffled sounds of the television coming from the door – Charlie rarely watched television, and Don cracked open the door in curiosity.
Charlie was sprawled in front of the small television set, laying on his stomach on the carpet, his face inches from the screen. Don could see the remote lying within arms reach and crumpled balls of paper scattered around the floor. From the door he could hear Charlie mumbling under his breath and scribbling frantically onto the pad of paper that he had his arm curled around. Stepping into the room, Don could make out what was on the television, and he was surprised and more than a little curious to recognize that the program was Monty Python and the Holy Grail. He realized that this was his own taped copy from college – the battered case was on the coffee table, and he recognized the grainy quality of the film.
Don allowed himself a few pleasurable moments to watch the movie from the doorway. It was one of his favorite parts, when Tim the Enchanter was introducing Arthur and his knights to the carnivorous rabbit. He couldn't help laughing when the rabbit attacked the men, and Charlie turned suddenly, startled to see Don in the doorway.
"Hey, Don. When did you come home?" he asked.
"Oh, just a few minutes ago," he said, walking forward to flop on the floor next to Charlie. "I didn't know you liked Monty Python."
"Well, I don't…I mean, not really," he answered, obviously flustered as he tried to gather all of the strewn papers from around the room. "It was just…well, it was strictly for educational purposes, of course."
"Of course. And what would those be again, Charlie?'
"It's not important. I, um, I think I'm done though, so if you don't mind…" Charlie stood up to go, clutching his papers to his chest.
Don quickly shot out a hand and wrestled a sheet from his grasp despite his brother's protests. Unfolding the crumpled paper he was immediately confused to see a poorly drawn stick figure of what he assumed to be some sort of bird. Dotted lines criss-crossed the page to form rough flight paths and several numbers were scribbled in the page's margins. "Um, Charlie, why are you drawing birds?" He glanced up and saw that Charlie was beet-red and staring down determinedly at his feet. "Charlie?" he prompted.
"I was just trying to solve this problem, and I thought some sketches could be helpful," he said.
Don stared at the massive sheaf of crumpled paper in Charlie's arms. "Are all of those birds too?" he asked, pointing.
"Oh, no! I've actually managed to work out a pretty rough equation, and it takes into account weather, age and size of the bird, wind patterns –"
"Charlie, what are you talking about?" Don asked in an impatient voice.
Charlie glanced at the television screen which was still softly playing Monty Python and said in an embarrassed manner, "I'm trying to figure out the airspeed velocity of an unlaiden swallow."
Don could only stare at his brother in disbelief, finally pointing at the television. "You mean, like in the movie? You're actually trying to make an equation to determine –"
"Yeah, and I'm getting pretty close." Charlie kneeled beside the coffee table and spread out some of his papers, which were covered in figures and Greek symbols. "I've actually gotten pretty far, and I don't think it's an unanswerable question as long as you take into account all of the available theories on flight and gravity. Look at this." He pointed at one particularly messy section of the paper. "I actually found out that African swallows have a greater wingspan than European swallows, which could affect their speed and altitude during flight, so by using the reciprocal of this part of the equation, you can determine the airspeed velocity for each variety."
He looked up at his brother expectantly. Don was staring back at him, mouth open and eyes glazed in a partly horrified, partly amused, and partly stunned expression. His eyes flicked to the television where the Holy Hand Grenade was being consecrated and then back to Charlie, whose eyes were burning with excitement.
"Well?" Charlie asked, "What do you think?"
"What do I think?" Don sighed. "I think you need to get out more often, Charlie. You've been breathing in too much chalk dust or something." He gave a shake of his head and stood to leave, throwing a last disbelieving glance over his shoulder toward his brother, who was still seated cross-legged at the coffee table.
Charlie watched him go. Reaching for the remote, he was about to switch off the television when he was distracted by another thought. Surely, there must have been a more logical way for Arthur to find the Holy Grail besides splitting up his knights for random searching. Grabbing up his pencil, he reached for a spare piece of paper and began furiously outlining his postulate. Obviously, if they'd organized their search patterns, they could have triangulated the location of the Grail, found it with a spiral or concentric circle search, which would mean…
He looked up from his paper with a contented sigh. Don just didn't understand math.
LA FIN!
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