"Artie…"

"Yeah, Jim?"

"You're doing it again."

"Hmm? Oh! Sorry."

Silence fell over the varnish car once again where the two Secret Service agents were relaxing after the end of a strenuous case, Jim West lounging on one of the sofas with a dime novel, Artemus Gordon sitting at the desk writing up their report for the colonel. For a while there was only the sound of the scratch of Artie's pen, punctuated by the occasional flip of a page of Jim's book. Then…

Jim sighed and laid the book on his chest. "Artie, you're humming. Again."

Artie winced. "Sorry. I don't even realize I'm doing it till you point it out."

Jim dog-eared a page of his book and tossed it aside as he sat up. "What is that tune anyway?" he asked. "You keep humming the same four bars of it, over and over and over, and it's not anything I recognize."

Now Artie sighed and dropped his pen with a clatter onto the desk. "Yeah, and if I have any say in the matter, you never will know it!" He pinched at his nose, then added, "Look, you remember the last time Peaches came by?"

"Sure." Artie's daughter the Time Lady had a habit of popping in now and again.

"Well, this last time she managed to infect me with an earworm," Artie grumped.

"Infec… Artie? You need a doctor?"

Jim started to jump up, but Artie lifted a hand and waved him back to his seat. "Naw, naw, nothing like that! It's not that kind of infection. Peaches explained it. Apparently when she comes from, an earworm is what they call it when you get a tune stuck in your head. And let me tell you, she seemed plenty pleased with herself for getting this one stuck into my head!"

Jim leaned forward on the sofa, hands folded at his knees. "So what song is it?"

"Aw, James! This thing is probably one of the stupidest songs you'll ever hear in your whole life - not that I want you to hear it! And y'know, I still have no idea what the thing is even about! I mean, why on earth would you want to stick a banana in your ear - especially a ripe banana, and into your favorite ear?"

"…your favorite…" Jim echoed.

"I've never even been aware that I had a favorite ear," Artie went on. "And if I did, wouldn't sticking a banana into it be prima facie evidence that it was in fact not my favorite?"

"…banana…" Jim echoed this time.

"Yeah, but… You just watch, Jim! You watch; I'll get her back!" He smiled smugly.

Jim had no doubt of that! "Do I want to know how?"

"Oh, it's very simple! Next time she shows up, I'll be ready to sing her a song. A nice little earworm, just for Peaches!" An evil grin spread across his face. "And I know just which song to give her, too."

"Oh? Which one?"

"Something I used to hear the Rebs singing back during the War. No doubt you heard 'em too." He named the song, then with an occasional chuckle, he went back to work on his report.

And Jim retrieved his book and laid back down to read it. Soon all was quiet again.

Until a voice began singing softly, "Peas, peas, peas, peas, eatin' goober peas. Goodness how de…" Jim's voice broke off abruptly as he turned a long slow glare towards his partner.

Who was staring back in horror. "Jim! Great Scott, buddy, I'm sorry! That certainly wasn't meant for you!"

And now the slow glare was replaced by a slow smile. "Oh, don't worry about it, Artie. No harm done. G'night." Still smiling, Jim got up and headed for his stateroom.

Long after he himself had retired for the night as well, Artie lay awake in his bed fretting. He knew Jim far too well to believe this was over! Some time soon, when he wasn't expecting it, Jim would return the favor and infect Artie with an earworm; of that he was sure. The only question was what song would it be, and Artie's ever-fertile imagination was helpfully churning out every single one of the most irritating songs he'd ever heard. Worse, even inventing a few.

At length he groaned and buried his head under the pillow - yeah, like that helped!

While in his own stateroom, Jim lay on his back, his hands folded behind his head. He too knew his partner very well and had no doubt that Artie was over there in his room driving himself crazy wondering in what form Jim would exact his revenge for the earworm. But how long would it take Artie to realize that the vengeance was already being exacted?

Chuckling lightly, Jim rolled over and was shortly sound asleep, with a smile on his face like that of the cat who had eaten the canary.

FIN