A/N: Yes, I had to do it. He made me do it! *Points accusingly at plot bunny* *Bunny munches clover contentedly, looks up at accusation* But seriously, I happened to just see a major fear of mine and thought (after I stopped screaming and the firemen peeled me off the ceiling) it would be funny to write out my fears...with a twist. *Throws back head and gives evil laugh* *Ahem* I'm back. Hope you enjoy, it's not my intention to send my readers into therapy. Although, if you mention my name more than three times, I get a free therapy session.
So, with that out of the way, I need to clear a few thingies up...Don't own Jack, (Hah, get it?) so please don't sue if you do. I am open to negotiations, I would love to own Jack, Daniel, Cam, Teal'c, Sam, Janet (Before she died, although...What do you guys think about a zombie Janet? Just Kidding!) and Vala.
Once again, I don't own, so if you do, please don't sue.
Toodles! VMD-J
The scream of ultimate terror shattered the morning like a glass, pounding feet and thumping as his children struggled for supremacy in their home.
He never minded, though, always wanting them to settle things in their own way and leave him out of it.
His O'Neill Rules of House Warfare had settled many an argument before, would continue to do so on through the years.
Rule One: If there were gunshots, he'd send them to boarding schools on separate coasts. Ella to a military academy with before-the-crack-of-dawn roll call, CJ to finishing school with an emphasis on ballet.
So far, no gunshots.
Rule two: Knives were cool, as long as no one got stabbed.
Someone gets stabbed, the stabber has to tell Mom. Stabbee has to endure Mom's cooking for however long they are incapacitated. So far, no one had needed a trip to the ER for accidental or otherwise intentional stabbing
Rule three: If there's bloodshed, it must be cleaned up before Mom gets home.
Rule four: If visible wounds were present, there had to be a good reason.
He'd never forget the time Ella accidentally sliced her forehead open. To this day, she and CJ both swore an Ori attacked.
He gave them points for originality, even when he found the coke can she had tried to open by pounding her forehead against it until it busted open.
Now, CJ burst into his father's study, slamming the door and pressing his twelve year old body against it tightly.
"You didn't hit her, did you?" Jack asked warningly. Ella shoved against the door from the opposite side, CJ's body bucking forward slightly at her shoving.
"Not at all, not at all. It's just….It's feeding day, and she handed me Homer. I panicked. That's all. I may have accidentally chucked him at her, but nothing more. And maybe he kind of, like, bit her, but that's just-" He endured several seconds of bucking as he struggled to hold the door closed, "just an accident. Then she threatened to hold me down in the tub while Bart ate a rabbit on top of me."
Jack sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair.
"You remember we got you the snake when you were six, you begged for him. You remember that, right? You were the one to name him Bart." He asked. CJ nodded frantically, bracing his feet against the floor to better hold the door shut.
"She's got Bart right now, Dad! And Homer's on her too, she's fighting dirty again!" Jack couldn't let it continue, waving his son away from the door he waited for Ella to come in. When she did, her boa constrictor wound haphazardly around her neck, shoulders and upper chest, he stopped her with a raised hand. He tilted his head, watching the tarantula climb over her ear and to the top of her head.
"Stop torturing your brother." He ordered sternly.
"But Dad…!" Jack raised a finger warningly and she fell silent.
"Go put them away." He continued. She grumbled, but obeyed. Giving his son a nod and watching him scamper out of the room, Jack turned back to his paperwork. Thirty seconds later, CJ let loose with a scream of terror once more.
"Who'd'a thought the boy would be the one afraid of boa constrictors and tarantula's?" Jack chuckled softly.