Title/Author: Nothing Wrong with Fruit Loops / by Gimli2003
Season/Spoilers: Season 4/6/7, Window of Opportunity, Homecoming (because Jonas is there, as is Daniel, and
a mention of not liking fruit loops for time-loop-related reasons)
Rating/Content: PG / Mild language (very mild, like the spiciness of green peppers mild)
Category: Humor
Summary: SG-1 contemplates food-or the commissary's suitable lack thereof
Author's Note: Hello all, this is my very first fan-fic, so please be honest and give me feedback. Oh
yes, and I own none of this. The show, and everything associated with it, 0% is owned by
me. Damn lawyers...
Nothing Wrong with Fruit Loops
By Gimli20003
Chapter One: Balefull Breakfast
Jack O'Neill entered the commissary and stopped dead in his tracks.
He had seen some sights in his days, courtesy of time spent in Special Ops in the USAF. Top that off with
exploits gallivanting around the galaxy in the SGC, the Earths best-keep, most invaluable secret. Some of them
were uplifting, some were boring (no no, most of them, MOST of them!); a few were kinda exciting, while others
were downright depressing.
Nothing he had seen in his 45+ years spent dealing with depressing situations, however, could prepare him
for the site that greeting him here, though. The commissary, half full for breakfast now, was normally bustling
with people who were meeting, eating, greeting...err, seating?...no, stupid, forget it, all in that way that said,
"Oh yeah, I definitely hate mornings. How about you?"
Nothing like that cheerful bustle had greeted him on the way down the hall to his favorite room in the SGC
today, though. Ok, 2nd favorite after Carter's lab, admittedly. Such shiny things! Too bad they broke so often.
He had been tempted to see if he had gotten the room right after seeing the subdued, no too light a term, glum,
expressions on all those gathered therein.
None struck the blow home more so than SG-1 plus one Napoleonic Needle-monger, aka. our good ol' Doc.
Frasier. They looked like their favorite pets had all up and croaked at once. Teal'c, ever the stoic,
emotionally unassailable rock of the party, actually looked kinda...sad? And JONAS!?! O'Neill didn't even think
it was possible for the young Kelownan to look that depressed, considering his past encounters with Quinns unusual
brand of optimism/naiveté. Admittedly, his next comment to his teammates as he joined them with a plate full of
food could have been picked better.
"Hey, who died?"
Teal'c simply raised an eyebrow at him. "The SGC's principal chef."
Ahh, damn. Nice comment there, El Jacko.
"Crap, that sucks," he said as he sat down next to Carter and across from his big Jaffa friend. He meant
it, too. He had always liked Cookie. The guy regularly went into his own wages to bring four extra flavors of
Jell-O to his friends in the SGC, where the budget only allowed one. Damn Pentagon bean-counting weenies. "Damn
Pentagon bean-counting weenies."
This did, of course, attract several stares from his friends, most confused, a few, including Sam, he
noted with glee, concerned. Sam was concerned about him. Hmmm, wait. Back up a sec, not right. It was only
after he registered the five sets of eyes on him that he realized he had spoken out loud. Stupid inner-dialogue.
"Sorry, thinking out loud." That got them back to normal. That's right, just me, plain ol' crazy, pay-
no-attention-to-the-nutcase-in-front-of-you-he's-like-this-all-the-time O'Neil. Whew.
"Well, sounds like you've got enough on your mind, Jack, " Daniel opined sagely, deciding to intervene at
this point, since even his CO, so-to-speak, didn't deserve the harsh treatment the canteen was giving them today,
not even after the 'photo-shoot incident.' "I wouldn't recommend adding today's special to that load." He took a
look at O'Neill's plate, anyway. "Oh, too late."
"It that what this is?" Jack decided to prod the nameless sludge in the center of his tray. The fork
stuck in it. When it refused to release his beloved eating implement from its death grip, it became clear that
Cookies health wasn't the only thing in the SGC to go south in the past couple days. Apparently so had the bases
supply of flour and baking soda.
"Let's just say this 'new-recruit'-did I say that right?-isn't fully versed in the proper preparation
procedures of ordinary Terran meals." This earned Jonas another patented 'speak words those big again and I will
staple your mouth shut!' look from O'Neill.
Teal'c, fortunately, summed up the young mans remark rather nicely, and briefly. "This cook is not a good
one. I seriously fear for the health of the warriors of this base if we are continually subjected to this-" he
cast a look at the substances adorning his plate-"treatment." Remarkably, this was the closest anyone in the SGC
could remember in 7 years of seeing their favorite Jaffa neighbor expressing such a considerable degree of disgust
in ANYTHING.
"I know what you mean Teal'c." O'Neill started to struggle against the resilient pile of good. "This
pile of...crap...won't...give me back...my...fork!!" His last word was punctuated by a 'sssppllLLOORRPP' sound
that saw fork and crap pile sail gracefully across the room-
-and land, not so gracefully, on top of a morose Sgt. Siler, whose immediate "EEKK!", Jack reflected, was
well worth the loss of his beloved friend and aide, Mr. Fork. Grinning, SG-1 turned their attention back towards
their own meals.
"So, how's the coffee, at least? I mean, they couldn't screw that up, right?"
Sam's turn to intervene. "I wouldn't sir. Daniel has sworn off coffee for a week after one sip of that
stuff."
"Damn my cultured taste buds and nervous system," their resident linguist grouched.
"Pampered Space Monkey, pampered."
Jackson shrugged with indifference. "Same thing."
"On the plus side, though, we could make a fortune selling this to people to help them get over coffee
addiction. No more budget problems for the SGC, sir."
They heard a sigh from their CMO. "It won't cover the costs of the civil suits brought against us for
allowing a toxic chemical into the general populace."
Sam squinched her eyebrows together, in her 'thinking' mode, before giving a small laugh. "You're right,
Janet, though I wouldn't even call it a chemical. It's more like a mix of...coffee pulp in some unidentifiable
liquid."
"I wouldn't even call it a liquid," Daniel groused, holding his beloved coffee cup upside down for a few
seconds, revealing that the substance also, apparently, defied gravity. Quite the clever chemist, this new chef;
diabolical little bastard, yes, but clever.
Jack was startled out of his contemplating asking Hammond if it was possible to send the new cook to work
for the Goa'uld and, subsequently, wipe them out via food poisoning by a startled sound from Jonas. The young
scientist was eying his plate and, wait...was that smoke?!?
Sam immediately moved from her position boxing in Danny with Janet to examine Jonas' newfound discovery.
A few drops of something were rapidly burning through the flapjacks on the Kelownans plate. The flapjacks, which
now that he looked close enough at his own, were really solid looking, dissolved readily under the assault of this
mystery substance. Dammit, now I'll never be able to eat the SGCs maple syrup again.
Carter looked like she'd just gotten her hands on a new alien gizmo, eyes wide with fascination. "Jonas,
how'd you do that?!"
"I didn't DO anything, it just happened," he moaned, looking sadly at his now desiccated pancakes.
"Jonas, pancakes don't just evaporate into thin air, what'd you put on them?"
"Well..." he took a moment to think, eyes drifting to the small, open-topped container for the maple syrup.
"They were kinda...tough, so I thought some syrup might soften them up." He screwed up his face for a second in
concentration. "Is maple syrup supposed to do that?"
"HELL NO!" Jack half-screamed. Ignoring the looks he was getting from Janet, Daniel and Teal'c, he turned
towards his own stack of pancakes, mentally tuning out Carters rant on the possible chemical structure of one of
his favorite morning foods. Well, I'm glad at least YOU find this interesting, Major he grouched inwardly. He
picked up his knife and turned his frustration into a keen drive to slice and dice the yummy cakes in front of him.
Not surprisingly, he found the pancakes to be somewhat...tougher than he was used to. "Just cut already,
you stupid little, aw screw it!" He took the two round cakes and tossed them into the nearby wall of the
commissary, right above the trashcan, surprised to see them shatter like two pieces of fine china in a shooting
gallery. "Huh, well, that was new."
"Just as DanielJackson will no longer be able to drink coffee, I fear this new chef has also ruined my
thirst for orange juice," Teal'c rumbled in a tone that would send lesser beings fleeing.
"Why Teal'c, what'd he do now?"
"There are...things, floating in it." The big Jaffa cast a baleful eye at his full mug of OJ.
"It's called pulp, Teal'c. It's little pieces of the orange itself, it's actually really good for you."
O'Neill relaxed visibly at this, since he'd taken one small sip of his OJ without looking at it. Thank you, my
lovely Doc. Frasier. Wait, had he just actually thought that?
"I am aware of what pulp is, DoctorFrasier. This is not pulp." He pushed out his cup into the middle of
the table for all to see. Not really wanting to, but having his gaze drawn towards it anyway, kinda like the
morbid sense of fascination one experienced around a train wreck, O'Neill snuck a peak at the OJ-
-and immediately wished he hadn't. "Ohmygod!" Look away, look away O'Neill, before you totally lose it! He took a moment to breath deep, get his stomach under control, pushing his cup out to meet Teal'cs.
"Is it supposed to have those little white things in it," he heard Jonas quip.
"Ohfercryingoutloud, of course it isn't!" This time, he did scream.
A sigh came from Jackson. "Well, this certainly takes the cake as the worst ever meal the SGC has ever
seen." He glanced longingly at his mug. "At least in my experience."
"Carter," O'Neill groaned, "please tell me that his new sadistic chef of ours would have at least let
alone the dry breakfast foods."
"Yes, sir, I don't think he has any reason to go near those."
"Sweet," he mumbled, pushing away from the table. "Fruit loops time."
"Jack, I thought you were never eating those again after the whole three-months-in-the-time-loop thing."
"I'll make an exception for today, Space Monkey." As he strode over to the stocked dry foods cabinet, he
smiled inwardly at what it had taken him to get over his aversion to fruit loops. After today, he would no longer
have a problem with his favorite cereal.
Yep, nothing wrong with fruit loops.
// So, that's it..............you know what goes here, riiiight? Bingo, reviews! Oh, btw, among the
// other things I don't own, count in Fruit Loops too. Just to be sure.
// Next up ludicrous lunch!
Season/Spoilers: Season 4/6/7, Window of Opportunity, Homecoming (because Jonas is there, as is Daniel, and
a mention of not liking fruit loops for time-loop-related reasons)
Rating/Content: PG / Mild language (very mild, like the spiciness of green peppers mild)
Category: Humor
Summary: SG-1 contemplates food-or the commissary's suitable lack thereof
Author's Note: Hello all, this is my very first fan-fic, so please be honest and give me feedback. Oh
yes, and I own none of this. The show, and everything associated with it, 0% is owned by
me. Damn lawyers...
Nothing Wrong with Fruit Loops
By Gimli20003
Chapter One: Balefull Breakfast
Jack O'Neill entered the commissary and stopped dead in his tracks.
He had seen some sights in his days, courtesy of time spent in Special Ops in the USAF. Top that off with
exploits gallivanting around the galaxy in the SGC, the Earths best-keep, most invaluable secret. Some of them
were uplifting, some were boring (no no, most of them, MOST of them!); a few were kinda exciting, while others
were downright depressing.
Nothing he had seen in his 45+ years spent dealing with depressing situations, however, could prepare him
for the site that greeting him here, though. The commissary, half full for breakfast now, was normally bustling
with people who were meeting, eating, greeting...err, seating?...no, stupid, forget it, all in that way that said,
"Oh yeah, I definitely hate mornings. How about you?"
Nothing like that cheerful bustle had greeted him on the way down the hall to his favorite room in the SGC
today, though. Ok, 2nd favorite after Carter's lab, admittedly. Such shiny things! Too bad they broke so often.
He had been tempted to see if he had gotten the room right after seeing the subdued, no too light a term, glum,
expressions on all those gathered therein.
None struck the blow home more so than SG-1 plus one Napoleonic Needle-monger, aka. our good ol' Doc.
Frasier. They looked like their favorite pets had all up and croaked at once. Teal'c, ever the stoic,
emotionally unassailable rock of the party, actually looked kinda...sad? And JONAS!?! O'Neill didn't even think
it was possible for the young Kelownan to look that depressed, considering his past encounters with Quinns unusual
brand of optimism/naiveté. Admittedly, his next comment to his teammates as he joined them with a plate full of
food could have been picked better.
"Hey, who died?"
Teal'c simply raised an eyebrow at him. "The SGC's principal chef."
Ahh, damn. Nice comment there, El Jacko.
"Crap, that sucks," he said as he sat down next to Carter and across from his big Jaffa friend. He meant
it, too. He had always liked Cookie. The guy regularly went into his own wages to bring four extra flavors of
Jell-O to his friends in the SGC, where the budget only allowed one. Damn Pentagon bean-counting weenies. "Damn
Pentagon bean-counting weenies."
This did, of course, attract several stares from his friends, most confused, a few, including Sam, he
noted with glee, concerned. Sam was concerned about him. Hmmm, wait. Back up a sec, not right. It was only
after he registered the five sets of eyes on him that he realized he had spoken out loud. Stupid inner-dialogue.
"Sorry, thinking out loud." That got them back to normal. That's right, just me, plain ol' crazy, pay-
no-attention-to-the-nutcase-in-front-of-you-he's-like-this-all-the-time O'Neil. Whew.
"Well, sounds like you've got enough on your mind, Jack, " Daniel opined sagely, deciding to intervene at
this point, since even his CO, so-to-speak, didn't deserve the harsh treatment the canteen was giving them today,
not even after the 'photo-shoot incident.' "I wouldn't recommend adding today's special to that load." He took a
look at O'Neill's plate, anyway. "Oh, too late."
"It that what this is?" Jack decided to prod the nameless sludge in the center of his tray. The fork
stuck in it. When it refused to release his beloved eating implement from its death grip, it became clear that
Cookies health wasn't the only thing in the SGC to go south in the past couple days. Apparently so had the bases
supply of flour and baking soda.
"Let's just say this 'new-recruit'-did I say that right?-isn't fully versed in the proper preparation
procedures of ordinary Terran meals." This earned Jonas another patented 'speak words those big again and I will
staple your mouth shut!' look from O'Neill.
Teal'c, fortunately, summed up the young mans remark rather nicely, and briefly. "This cook is not a good
one. I seriously fear for the health of the warriors of this base if we are continually subjected to this-" he
cast a look at the substances adorning his plate-"treatment." Remarkably, this was the closest anyone in the SGC
could remember in 7 years of seeing their favorite Jaffa neighbor expressing such a considerable degree of disgust
in ANYTHING.
"I know what you mean Teal'c." O'Neill started to struggle against the resilient pile of good. "This
pile of...crap...won't...give me back...my...fork!!" His last word was punctuated by a 'sssppllLLOORRPP' sound
that saw fork and crap pile sail gracefully across the room-
-and land, not so gracefully, on top of a morose Sgt. Siler, whose immediate "EEKK!", Jack reflected, was
well worth the loss of his beloved friend and aide, Mr. Fork. Grinning, SG-1 turned their attention back towards
their own meals.
"So, how's the coffee, at least? I mean, they couldn't screw that up, right?"
Sam's turn to intervene. "I wouldn't sir. Daniel has sworn off coffee for a week after one sip of that
stuff."
"Damn my cultured taste buds and nervous system," their resident linguist grouched.
"Pampered Space Monkey, pampered."
Jackson shrugged with indifference. "Same thing."
"On the plus side, though, we could make a fortune selling this to people to help them get over coffee
addiction. No more budget problems for the SGC, sir."
They heard a sigh from their CMO. "It won't cover the costs of the civil suits brought against us for
allowing a toxic chemical into the general populace."
Sam squinched her eyebrows together, in her 'thinking' mode, before giving a small laugh. "You're right,
Janet, though I wouldn't even call it a chemical. It's more like a mix of...coffee pulp in some unidentifiable
liquid."
"I wouldn't even call it a liquid," Daniel groused, holding his beloved coffee cup upside down for a few
seconds, revealing that the substance also, apparently, defied gravity. Quite the clever chemist, this new chef;
diabolical little bastard, yes, but clever.
Jack was startled out of his contemplating asking Hammond if it was possible to send the new cook to work
for the Goa'uld and, subsequently, wipe them out via food poisoning by a startled sound from Jonas. The young
scientist was eying his plate and, wait...was that smoke?!?
Sam immediately moved from her position boxing in Danny with Janet to examine Jonas' newfound discovery.
A few drops of something were rapidly burning through the flapjacks on the Kelownans plate. The flapjacks, which
now that he looked close enough at his own, were really solid looking, dissolved readily under the assault of this
mystery substance. Dammit, now I'll never be able to eat the SGCs maple syrup again.
Carter looked like she'd just gotten her hands on a new alien gizmo, eyes wide with fascination. "Jonas,
how'd you do that?!"
"I didn't DO anything, it just happened," he moaned, looking sadly at his now desiccated pancakes.
"Jonas, pancakes don't just evaporate into thin air, what'd you put on them?"
"Well..." he took a moment to think, eyes drifting to the small, open-topped container for the maple syrup.
"They were kinda...tough, so I thought some syrup might soften them up." He screwed up his face for a second in
concentration. "Is maple syrup supposed to do that?"
"HELL NO!" Jack half-screamed. Ignoring the looks he was getting from Janet, Daniel and Teal'c, he turned
towards his own stack of pancakes, mentally tuning out Carters rant on the possible chemical structure of one of
his favorite morning foods. Well, I'm glad at least YOU find this interesting, Major he grouched inwardly. He
picked up his knife and turned his frustration into a keen drive to slice and dice the yummy cakes in front of him.
Not surprisingly, he found the pancakes to be somewhat...tougher than he was used to. "Just cut already,
you stupid little, aw screw it!" He took the two round cakes and tossed them into the nearby wall of the
commissary, right above the trashcan, surprised to see them shatter like two pieces of fine china in a shooting
gallery. "Huh, well, that was new."
"Just as DanielJackson will no longer be able to drink coffee, I fear this new chef has also ruined my
thirst for orange juice," Teal'c rumbled in a tone that would send lesser beings fleeing.
"Why Teal'c, what'd he do now?"
"There are...things, floating in it." The big Jaffa cast a baleful eye at his full mug of OJ.
"It's called pulp, Teal'c. It's little pieces of the orange itself, it's actually really good for you."
O'Neill relaxed visibly at this, since he'd taken one small sip of his OJ without looking at it. Thank you, my
lovely Doc. Frasier. Wait, had he just actually thought that?
"I am aware of what pulp is, DoctorFrasier. This is not pulp." He pushed out his cup into the middle of
the table for all to see. Not really wanting to, but having his gaze drawn towards it anyway, kinda like the
morbid sense of fascination one experienced around a train wreck, O'Neill snuck a peak at the OJ-
-and immediately wished he hadn't. "Ohmygod!" Look away, look away O'Neill, before you totally lose it! He took a moment to breath deep, get his stomach under control, pushing his cup out to meet Teal'cs.
"Is it supposed to have those little white things in it," he heard Jonas quip.
"Ohfercryingoutloud, of course it isn't!" This time, he did scream.
A sigh came from Jackson. "Well, this certainly takes the cake as the worst ever meal the SGC has ever
seen." He glanced longingly at his mug. "At least in my experience."
"Carter," O'Neill groaned, "please tell me that his new sadistic chef of ours would have at least let
alone the dry breakfast foods."
"Yes, sir, I don't think he has any reason to go near those."
"Sweet," he mumbled, pushing away from the table. "Fruit loops time."
"Jack, I thought you were never eating those again after the whole three-months-in-the-time-loop thing."
"I'll make an exception for today, Space Monkey." As he strode over to the stocked dry foods cabinet, he
smiled inwardly at what it had taken him to get over his aversion to fruit loops. After today, he would no longer
have a problem with his favorite cereal.
Yep, nothing wrong with fruit loops.
// So, that's it..............you know what goes here, riiiight? Bingo, reviews! Oh, btw, among the
// other things I don't own, count in Fruit Loops too. Just to be sure.
// Next up ludicrous lunch!