Comments: Humour; History; Never watch Terry Jones on the Discovery Channel on Christmas Eve - it has a strange affect on the brain...
WARNING: This has not been beta read - so all typos are my fault, all murder of the English language is my fault, the occasional bad pun is my fault, Bart is innocent - he didn't do it, nobody saw it, they can't prove anything...wait - wrong show! Ahem!
Feedback: You becha - even if it's only to tell me to stop...!
Methos' Revenge
Richie Ryan walked into the bar, whistling somewhat tunelessly.
"Hey - Richie, good to see you," stated the man behind the bar. "When did you get into town?"
"Joe - great to be back," he replied, waving. "I stopped by the loft - Mac not in town?"
"He's at an auction upstate some place - said he'd be back this evening though. You want a drink?" Joe enquired.
"Yeah - and you got any food?" Richie grinned. "I've been living off McDonalds for waaaay too long."
Joe grinned and after pouring a beer for his friend, turned to the kitchen to see if he could rustle up some food.
Just as Joe left the barroom, Richie felt the approach of another Immortal. Feeling the 'buzz', he slipped his hand into his jacket and took a grip on his sword. He hoped it would just be someone passing - but no such luck. The bar door opened.
"Oh - it's you."
"Geez - nice to see you too, *Adam*," Richie retorted. Standing before him was the tall, thin form of the eldest Immortal known: Methos - although Richie had only known *that* detail for a matter of weeks. Previously, he had known the man as Adam Pierson, gauche Watcher and young Immortal. **At least I figured he was young,** Richie silently amended.
"Yeah, yeah." Methos was clearly still feeling somewhat put out at Richie's reaction to the news that he was the ancient Immortal.
**Ancient pain in the ass more like,** Richie snickered to himself.
"Is Joe here?"
"In the kitchen, Adam," shouted a voice. "Just fixin' some food for garbage guts out there! You want something too?"
"Me - no, I'll stick with beer thanks," Methos answered and promptly helped himself to a bottle.
Richie watched as the eldest living Immortal popped the top off his liberated bottle and took a healthy swig.
"So - you figured out your questions yet?" Methos asked, as much to break the silence as anything else.
"A few," Richie agreed, certain he wasn't about to share his personal soul searching with a man he barely liked - and who barely liked him. "Like why a McDonald's hamburger tastes so good."
Methos rolled his eyes. "They're *nothing* new."
**What's he mean?** Richie wondered.
"Adam - what're you on about?" Joe enquired, unconsciously mirroring Richie's train of thought.
A slow grin spread across Methos' face. "I'm talking about hamburgers."
"Hamburgers." Joe shook his head. "Rich - club sandwich for ya."
Richie walked over to the bar and claimed the sandwich. "So - old timer, if the Golden Arches weren't the inventor of the hamburger, who was?" Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Joe shaking his head again - but Richie's interest was piqued. **I mean - what's more twentieth century than the hamburger?**
"The Romans."
Joe, who had just started to take a sip from a mug of coffee, spluttered. "You're kiddin' me, right?"
Methos shook his head. "Nope - the Romans were the first people, *that I know of* to invent the hamburger." He gave a careless shrug and added, "There may have been some tribe in the back of beyond who invented it first - but I wasn't there, so I wouldn't know. I *was* in Rome though - and I can assure you, they had hamburgers. And street lighting."
"Oh now you have *got* to be joking," Richie complained.
"No - the Romans had street lights. They were little...well quite big, I suppose...oil lamps that were placed on pedestals at intervals along the main roads in Rome, and Antioch and a couple of other places, that were lit as the sun went down and then burned until dawn."
"Uh-huh." Richie nodded slowly. "And what else did these guys have? Slot machines?"
"Yup."
Joe choked again.
"Where?"
"In temples - worshippers put in a coin and got out the exact measure of Holy Water they needed for their ritual."
"You *are* kidding, aren't you?" Richie asked.
Methos shook his head. "Deadly serious - it was invented by Heron of Alexandria. You can look him up, if you don't believe me."
"Uh-oh - he *must* be serious!" Joe muttered.
"OK, then. So you're trying to tell me that these ancient dudes had slot machines, street lights and hamburgers..."
"Not to mention concrete, condoms, high rise apartments and takeaway restaurants," Methos put in.
"Oh, this is too much!" Richie complained. "Those are all...like twentieth century things. Are you...you mean *none* of that stuff's modern?"
"Yup." Methos nodded.
Richie studied the face of the eldest Immortal for any trace of joking - and found none. He was apparently completely serious. "Oh man. I think I just got a whole bunch more questions."
Then, shaking his head - and leaving two thirds of his sandwich behind - Richie got to his feet and headed out of the bar, shaking his head and wondering if he would ever understand life.
Meanwhile, in the bar, one very old man laughed.