Napoleon yawned and stretched. It felt so good to just lie down and not worry about the world, if only for a moment. Tomorrow they would climb onto a plane and fly back into harm's way, but tonight, they were the guests of a relieved president and his appreciative wife. They'd brought their twin girls back, safe and sound, stopped THRUSH's current scheme of world domination, and only picked up a handful of bruises and scrapes along the way.
Napoleon let his eyes drift pleasantly closed. They'd been wined, dined, and treated like royalty. He'd reveled in it while Illya rebelled. He was sitting by the fireplace, his glasses perched on the end of his nose.
Napoleon liked to be pampered and the thick robe was both luxurious and comfortable. Illya was wearing a pair of loose gray jogging shorts and a tee shirt, his robe still hanging in the closet, ignored.
"Napoleon?"
"Yes, Illya?"
"Did you know that if you yelled for eight years, seven months and six days, you'd generate enough sound energy to heat up a cup of coffee?"
Napoleon's head came up off the feather pillow. "How would they prove that?"
"One would assume by measuring the amount of sound energy in a much smaller sample and extrapolating. Furthermore, it says that if you farted constantly for six years and nine months, you would produce enough gas to create the same energy as an atomic bomb."
"Huh, must have hung around you after you ate peppers."
"Napoleon, that's crude. It's also untrue, unlike you and your unfortunate history with legumes."
"Says the little Russian fusion maker." Napoleon propped himself up on his elbows. "What are you reading?"
"A reference book. The human heart creates enough pressure when it pumps blood throughout your body that it can squirt blood thirty feet."
"Now that's impressive; and more interesting than the fart thing."
"Ah, a new chapter – animal facts. According to this a pig's orgasm lasts thirty minutes."
"Really?" Napoleon sat up and cocked his head. "That's impressive."
Illya smirked. "Yes, somehow I thought you would find it particularly so. And a cockroach can live nine days without its head before it starves to death."
"Thirty minutes, you say?"
"No, the book says." Illya flipped a couple of pages. "And be thankful you are not a male praying mantis."
"I am, every day of my life, and why would that be?"
"The female of the species has to rip its head off to begin the copulation process."
"That gives a whole new meaning to giving head."
"Napoleon, that is just crude."
"Sorry, I'm still thinking about the pig."
"Lions can mate up to fifty times in an hour."
"They should check out Bobby Finn."
"Who?"
"Rumor has it that he had sex for seven hours straight."
"Quality over quantity, Napoleon, is my thought. Butterflies taste with their feet."
"Who would want to know that?"
"Catfish have 27,000 taste buds."
"What for? They eat scum, why would anything want to taste that more than necessary?" Napoleon walked over and sat next to Illya, leaning close enough to read the pages as well. "An ostrich's eyes are bigger than its brain. I've known some THRUSH like that."
"Starfish have no brains at all," Napoleon countered, pointing to the sentence on the page.
"Starfish, THRUSH, it goes without saying…"
"Include some of the Section Four idiots and I'd agree with you."
"Cat urine will glow in black light," Illya said, tracing the sentence with his finger. He turned to his partner, who was so close they were practically nose to nose. He hesitated for a moment and then turned back to the book. "One has to question the application of that knowledge."
"Polar bears are left handed… polar bears have hands? I thought they only had paws."
"And maws or else we'd have no baby polar bears."
"You're a funny guy." Napoleon gently pushed the book closed.
"And you're still thinking about that pig, aren't you?"
"Maybe."
"Did you know the strongest muscle a human has is his tongue?"
Napoleon's lips curled now. "I do know that only men, apes, and dolphins have sex for pleasure." He leaned forward, his mouth brushing over the burr of Illya's whiskers.
"Have they heard about the pig?" Illya turned his head ever so slightly. "We really should tell them about the pig."
"Okay, just give me thirty minutes…"
With sincere apologies to whoever created this silly e mail to begin with.
