WARNINGS: Bizarre use of bodily fluids, if this will induce squick, please do not proceed. Not beta'd
Fandom: Firefly
Prompt: "Right" for the Firefly 100
Characters: Mal, Zoe
Timeline: Early Unification War, pre-series.
Rating: PG for grossness and a bad word or two.
Word count: 300
Disclaimer: Not mine, not paid, please don't sue
Zoë's repulsive rules for surviving the army part one.
"IF-YOU-AIN'T-THE-SORRIEST-SACKS-OF-GO-SE-I-EVER-HAD-THE- MISFORTUNE-TA-TRAIN!"
The sorry sacks of shit sagged, every last one while the abuse washed over them. Young Malcolm Reynolds was somewhere in the front row, his eyes on the soft, comfortable dirt of the parade ground, as appealing at that moment as a feather bed. He felt his knees sag a little more, felt his eyelids sliding shut…
"DO IT AGAIN!" So much for getting a little shut eye. "BY THE RIGHT! QU-ICK MARCH!"
His boots squished with sweat and blood from his blisters, but he did it again.
And again.
And again.
Until they all got it right.
Flat out across his bunk fully dressed with the verse spinning behind his eyelids he was more than a little peeved when someone slapped him across the cheek. He opened his eyes to a woman's face. First time he'd ever seen cold brown eyes.
"Get your boots off else you'll lose skin come morning."
Malcolm nearly told her to do something biologically impossible, but she had stripes on her arm, so he grudgingly sat up.
She watched him critically as he unlaced his boots and pulled them off, wincing.
"Boot leather's too hard," she explained. "Gotta soften them else your feet'll tear up n' rot out from under you in the trenches. Folks die from it. "
Malcolm blinked, "How'd I do that Sir-Ma'am?"
The Corporal didn't seem bothered by his struggles with honorifics. "Piss in 'em, n' leave it over night." She turned away to attend to someone else.
Malcolm looked at the soldier on the next bunk. "She's kidding, right?"
The boy shook his head "Nope, Corporal Alleyne don't joke."
Malcolm looked from his boots to his feet and back again, "Huh."
Before going to sleep he pinned a note to his boots, "Empty and rinse before wearing."
Autors note:
Spike Milligan was given this horrible, horrible advice by someone called Busty Roberts. Mr Milligan mentions it in "Adolf Hitler, My Part in his Downfall." He also said that it worked.
All together now... "EW!"
