The scene in Barracks Two was not one for the faint of stomach. In a rare moment of blessed peace, the heroes lounged on their bunks trying to forget their recent horrors and heal their many wounds.
Relatively unscratched, Kinch sat at the table as he attempted to write a letter home. But the groaning from several bunks made it hard to concentrate. However, he didn't blame his friends as they'd been shot, kidnapped, blown up, tortured, and had broken various bones too many times in the past year.
And that wasn't even counting the crackfics.
It was those authors. They seemed to derive some sick sort of pleasure from inflicting pain on characters that they claimed to be their favorite. Kinch had his doubts. But regardless of the reasons, he could barely even look at Newkirk anymore due to the bruises and scars that covered most of his body. He seemed to be receiving more than his fair share of the authors' attentions at the moment.
Colonel Hogan didn't look much better as he often wandered around the camp with a confused look on his face. Ever since a recent time traveling adventure, the officer had trouble remembering what year it was or what events had happened in what timeline.
Even the men in the back row were not immune from the latest round of stories. They suffered from no physical ailment but the long periods of enforced silence and inactivity sent many into a deep depression.
What they needed was a break. But how were they to get a vacation in a POW camp?
Walking into the room, his weary CO grabbed a cup of coffee and joined Kinch at the table. Rubbing his head in an attempt to ease his latest violin-induced headache, Hogan said, "We can't keep going on like this."
"Oui," LeBeau agreed. "But we took them to court - twice. And we lost - twice. What else can we do?'
Carter considered the problem. "Trying to stop them from writing doesn't work, so why don't we try encouraging them to write."
Newkirk was incredulous. "Are you out of your bloody mind? More stories means more of ..." He gestured around the room. "...this."
"No, I mean, we encourage them to write the stores we want them to write."
"Stories where we meet girls," LeBeau said, a hint of excitement entering his voice.
Olsen smiled. "Stories where we work with women from the Underground."
"Stories where we rescue beautiful birds," Newkirk added.
"Now that is an idea I could get behind," Hogan said. "But knowing these authors we'll end up with Mary Sues or worse - Marya."
"What's wrong with Marya?"
Newkirk rolled his eyes at the lovesick Frenchman and said, "If asking for a little female companionship is too dangerous, what's safe?"
"Probably nothing," Kinch replied.
Hogan looked thoughtful. "What about that yearly challenge they do?"
"The Short Story Speedwriting Challenge?" Baker asked. "That's the one where they have to use a line from a predetermined list in a story."
Carter looked thoughtful. "Last year's entries were pretty tame. Lots of gen and humor."
"Except for the one where I died," Hogan said.
"Only one!" Carter was trying very hard to keep things positive. "And if we pick the lines they have to choose from this year then we can guarantee that stories they write will be happy."
LeBeau looked skeptical. "What makes you think the authors will participate?"
Hogan sipped his coffee. "These authors have egos. If we challenge them to write the type of stories that we'd prefer they won't be able to resist. They'll have to prove that they are capable of meeting our challenge."
"Sounds like a plan," Kinch said.
Carter smiled as he saw his plan coming together. "It'll be a piece of pie."
"Cake," replied everyone.
Hogan's eyes lit up. "That's it, Carter. We'll use idioms. Just not that one; it's too easy. We need sayings that can keep them so busy that they'll learn to let sleeping dogs lie."
"Good one, sir," Kinch said as he began to write. His pencil moved fast as the suggestions came in.
"Bob's your uncle."
"'Til the cows come home."
"Fold like a cheap camera."
"Couper la poire en deux."
Baker looked questioningly at the Frenchman. "What?"
"It means to cut a pear in two."
Newkirk shook his head. "The translation makes just as much sense as the French. You're losing the plot."
"Oh, and that one makes perfect sense."
"Of course it does; it's British."
LeBeau looked like he was about to explode in a tirade of French and English so Hogan stepped in. "We'll use both. If the authors have to spend time researching what some of these sayings mean then they'll have less time to think of new injuries to inflict upon us. Anyone else?"
"Raining cats and dogs," Carter suggested.
There was hesitation on that one. "Do we really want to get soaking wet?" Baker asked.
Kinch shrugged. "It's better than hypothermia or frostbite."
"Anything that gives us stories not set in winter," Hogan said.
Olsen suggested, "Don't shoot the messenger."
Newkirk shuddered. "No shooting."
"That's the point," Olsen countered, "that idiom is all about not shooting. Something these authors need to learn."
Tired of being ignored, the boys in the back row huddled together and then gave their suggestion. "Between the devil and the deep blue sea," Addison said.
LeBeau frowned. "That could go dark."
"Really dark," Baker agreed.
Hogan tapped his fingers against the table. "It could," he admitted. "But we are at war and in war we have to make difficult decisions. I think that is a good thing for the authors to remember."
Kinch thought Hogan had a good point but, before he could agree, the barracks' door opened and Schultz stepped into the room. "What is going on here?"
"We're discussing idioms," Hogan stated.
Schultz looked confused. "Why?"
Newkirk nudged the guard with his elbow. "We need a break from those bloody authors."
"Yeah, so we're going to challenge them to write nice stories using idioms we've chosen," Carter explained. "Do you know any good ones?"
Schultz smiled. "Ich glaub mich knutscht ein Elch." The German speakers all laughed while the guard translated for the English only speakers in the room. "I think I was kissed by a moose."
"I wasn't aware that there were moose in Germany," Olsen said.
"Very few. That's why it's used as an expression of surprise."
Intrigued, LeBeau pressed for more. "Give us another."
Schultz thought for moment before replying, "Der Fisch stinkt vom Kopf her. The fish starts stinking from the head."
Unable to resist, Hogan quipped, "I wouldn't say that one too loudly. Someone might think you are talking about the Fuehrer."
"Yeah, we wouldn't want you shot for telling the truth," Carter added.
Schultz's face fell and he quickly started backing out of the room. "I hear nothing. I know nothing. I said nothing!"
Once Schultz slammed the door, Kinch counted up his list. "That gives us eleven idioms. Do you really think this idea will work?"
"If it does we'll be cooking with gas," Baker said with a grin.
Kinch grinned back. "And if it doesn't it will add insult to injury."
"No!"
"Not that one."
"Pick another."
"It's an idiom," Kinch explained. "It's not supposed to be taken literally. That's the whole point."
"I don't care," LeBeau said. "I don't want the authors to see the word injury. It'll give them ideas."
Newkirk crossed his arms. "You don't understand. The authors just ignore you. If you were lying in a bunk with bullet holes in your body, you'd feel differently."
Ending the fight, Hogan ordered, "We won't use it. Twelve should be plenty. Kinch, send these lines off to London. The faster this challenge is issued, the sooner we'll get a break."
"Yes, sir." Kinch rose and descended into the tunnels. But before turning on the radio, he added his suggestion back to the list. It was just a phrase. It wouldn't do any harm - at least not to him. Sometimes it was nice to be the man everyone ignored.
Now that the heroes have thrown down the gauntlet, here are the rules:
1. Write as many short stories as you can from now until Saturday June 4th.
2. All stories must be a minimum of 1,000 words and a maximum of 5,000 words.
3. All stories must include at least one idiom from the challenge list somewhere in the story.
4. All stories should be posted online on June 4th. You can put your story up as long as it is June 4th somewhere in the world (starting with New Zealand and ending at midnight in Hawaii).
5. Your stories can be any genre you wish (including slash and crossovers). However, if you post a M rated story or a crossover please advertise your story in the challenge thread in Forum XIIIc so it doesn't get overlooked.
6. You may change the verb tense of your idiom if necessary to make it work grammatically in a sentence.
7. For the German and French idioms, you can use the original language or the English translation or both.
8. You are not required to follow the heroes' wishes with this challenge. Feel free to cause as much injury and angst as you desire. Or be as funny and fluffy as you want. We just ask that your story has a discernable plot (so no crackfics).
This year the following members of our fandom have pledged to donate money to charity for each story written: Sgt. Moffitt (US Holocaust Museum), snooky-9093(Honor Flight Philadelphia), Abracadebra (Honor Flight), Book 'em Again (Pets for Vets), 96 Hubbles (Fort McMurry Relief), Sophia Villo (Red Cross), konarciq (TBD), FloatingPizza (TBD) and dust on the wind (Refugee Council of Australia). So each story you write raises money for charity!
Finally, if you didn't catch them all in the story, here is your Idiom Challenge List:
Let sleeping dogs lie
Bob's your uncle
Til the cows come home
Fold like a cheap camera
To cut the pear in two / Couper la poire en deux
Losing the plot
Raining cats and dogs
Don't shoot the messenger
Between the devil and the deep blue sea
I think I was kissed by a moose / Ich glaub mich knutscht ein Elch
The fish starts stinking at the head / Der Fisch stinkt vom Kopf her
Cooking with gas
Add insult to injury
If you have any questions about the challenge or are having trouble figuring out the meaning of the some of these idioms, check out the challenge thread in Forum XIIIc.
Thanks to Sophia Villo for her help in putting this challenge together.
Happy Writing All!
Book 'em Again