Media Woes II: Jack's Goes Hollywood
By Livi2Jack
Summary: Once the media has a story, it won't let go. GNN arrived to interview Jack. And now he has to cooperate. Or does he?
Sequel Part Two to: Media Woes
Category: Humor
Characters: Team
Pairings: None
Season Ten+
Warnings/Rating: All
For the ATST Challenge 46 to use the word "spiral."
Author's Note: For those who don't know the joke, Barbara Walters once asked Katherine Hepburn the all-time stupidest question on one of her "Specials"...if you were a tree what kind of tree would you be?" She's been the butt of jokes for 25 years because of it.
Disclaimer: "Stargate SG-1" and its characters are the property of Sony Pictures, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Film Corp., Showtime/Viacom and USA Networks, Inc. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations and story are the property of the author(s), and may not be republished or archived elsewhere without the author's permission.
Major General Jack O'Neill of the USAF hung his head in his hands over his desk. From deep within came the grunt. "OY!"
He was famous.
And not just famous, famous Galaxy-wide. GNN, the Galactic News Network wanted an interview. They wouldn't take no for an answer.
The President was NOT amused. And he was. In fact, everyone right down the line was snickering if not chortling over this turn of events. Well, there had to be some fallout from all those antics at the SGC for ten years.
Who knew?
So the order came down.
Cooperate.
"Oy!"
"He wants to know if I am going to ask him what?" Dame Agatha of GNN the INTRA-galactic version of Barbara Walters was stumped. "What kind of tree he is."
"What the hell does that mean?" She shook her head. Since meeting the man, Agatha had her doubts about him. He couldn't possibly be the right man. Maybe there was another Jack O'Neill? She'd heard rumors about an O'Neil with one 'L.'
"I don't know, ma'am," the Air Force aid replied. She looked to be about 19 years old and had no idea what the issue was.
"Well find out," snapped Agatha. She wasn't about to upset O'Neill more than he already was. If he wanted to be asked about his tree, then fine. She'd ask. It only made this assignment even more bizarre.
The door opened again. Aggie looked at the rumpled figure of a middle-aged man looking at her as if she had two heads. Well, they all did that. She was getting used to it.
"And what do you want?"
"Um, hello, I'm Emmett Bregman. General O'Neill sent me to help you prepare for the interview." He held out his hand to her. She stared at it. "Um, well," Bregman withdrew his hand. "I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself and set a time to go over your notes." She still only stared at him. "I mean, I am a journalist like you and…"
Like me? I don't think so.
"So nice to make your acquaintance, Emmett Bregman," she replied and smiled instead. Aggie was irritated. She had a base of 40 BILLION viewers across the galaxy. This man was nothing.
"Yes, ma'am. And may I say that I am very, oh boy, VERY excited about working with you. Imagine! Broadcasting all over the galaxy that's, that's unbelievable."
Yes, well you would think so wouldn't you?
"Yes, we do…all over the Galaxy, Mr. Bregman."
"Ok, right, well, I'd like to get started. Show me what you have. And I'll make a list of what you need for background and so forth," Emmett pulled a chair up to the table where Aggie was sitting.
Forward nobody. Hmm, how to get rid of him?
"Mr. Bregman, perhaps you would give me a file with your own resume so I can review it to know with whom I am speaking."
"They, they didn't tell you?" Bregman looked stunned. "I'm the official, well for all practical purposes, official journalist for the Stargate Program. I did a program called 'Heroes' a few years back to describe what efforts and accomplishments the Program had made." She looked blank. "They didn't show it to you?" She shook her head. "Oh, well that explains it. I'll have a copy sent to you, immediately." Bregman dug into his pocket and removed a cell phone to order up a copy.
Pity, these poor folks don't have implants for this nonsense. Look at the size of that instrument. Well, he's trying to be helpful. Poor man is out of his league. She smiled at him instead.
"I should have an agent, shouldn't I?" Jack glared at Daniel sitting across his desk. Jack's office in the Pentagon was lovely. As a Major General he was considered to be 'rug rank,' meaning he got a terrific office furnished nicely and a window. "An 'agent,' Jack?" Daniel pushed his glasses up his nose and waited for the inevitable complaining.
"Sure, shouldn't I have an agent? If they want to do this interview, shouldn't I get paid or something?"
"You are paid, Jack. You are paid by the military. You are doing a public service by doing this interview."
"Not the same, Daniel, I mean there's all the other stuff as well."
"Like what?" Daniel's voice went up an octave. No one had asked him for an interview…yet.
(mumble)
"I didn't get that. What?"
(MUMBLE)
Daniel tapped his finger to his ear and looked askance at his former CO. "Hmmmm?"
"A book deal and…(mumble)
"Didn't catch that?"
"… a 'movie' their style."
"You got a book deal and a movie deal, too?" Daniel's voice definitely went up another octave. He was hurt.
(mumble)
"And?"
"And, what?"
"And what was that mumbling just now?"
"And," Jack sighed, "a speaking engagement tour. Just a few planets, though right now."
"I've got to get me an agent. I'm not military." Daniel stood up and left.
Sam Carter closed her eyes in ecstasy. Moans of pleasure escaped her lips. Her eyeballs rolled back in her head. She shook with pleasure. Ever so slightly she rolled her tongue across her lips. She sank backwards in delight.
Teal'c grunted his satisfaction. His eyes closed then opened wide, seeing and not seeing.
"Ok that display was just disgusting, Sam." Daniel watched her reach for another fried pickle slice. "They can't be that good."
"Do not strike your pickle before you tried it Daniel Jackson," Teal'c intoned and grabbed a second basket full from the waitress just arriving with another round.
"Hoo-daddy, those are some good fried pickles. Who woulda thunk it? Sam you sure do know good places hereabouts," Cam Mitchell exclaimed. "Here, gimme some of those, Big Guy." He reached out for Teal'c's freshly arrived basketful.
He was met with Teal'c's scary face.
"Ok, ok, I'll order my own. Waiter! Bring me somma them pickles," He pointed at the basket Teal'c clutched to his chest. "And extra Thousand Island to go with, too!" Cam slouched back grinning. "Not getting in between a Jaffa and his fried pickles, no sir!"
The waiter nodded and was about to leave.
"Um, some more crabcakes, 'hush puppies,' and another round," Vala called out. "What? Can't a girl enjoy her food? I deserve these after that news." Vala arranged her pickle slices in a spiral on her plate.
"Save room for the fried ice cream, Vala," Cam grinned and popped the last fritter.
"What? Is everything you eat fried?"
"If it ain't fried, it ain't food, as my Grandma likes to say." Cam swigged a long pull on his beer.
Holding up a hush puppy, Vala asked, "so why do you call these 'hush puppies?' She popped it in chewing with delight. "This isn't made from dogs," she stopped with mouth full, "or is it?" She spat it out and looked at it again.
"Nope, just cornmeal."
"Oh, good," she popped the half-chewed ball back in.
"Comes from a time when fishermen would take their dogs out with them, make camp, fry up some cornmeal and throw some at the dogs saying, 'hush…puppy.' At least that's what my Grandma told me." Cam eyed Daniel who looked doubtful. "No really, it's a Southern thing. You always eat these with seafood."
Sam grunted and groaned with her eyes closed again.
"Will you stop that?"
All heads swiveled to find Jack staring down at them. Cam jumped up and so did Sam with a salute and her mouth full.
"I'm only going to say this once….at ease." He pulled up a chair as Cam offered his own. "Knew I would find you here," Jack signaled the waitress. "Another one of those," Jack pointed at the beers, "and oh, a basket of fried pickles. She's dangerous when she runs out of them."
"Nice to see you, General," Vala said hopefully. Jack eyed her with suspicion and nodded briefly. He took his seat facing the Potomac River.
"What's she doing here?"
"We took pity on her, sir, and asked General Landry to let her out with us."
"I've been good, haven't I?" Vala looked around getting no answer. "Well, mostly good." Still no answer. "Ok, except for that little bit back there with the…"
"Stop while you're ahead," Daniel ordered. He hung his head, shaking it. She was a loose canon and always would be. But sometimes that came in handy.
"What? Those weapons were valuable. And they just turned them into junk without so much as a by your leave."
"Does anyone still know about …(security)? Jack mouthed.
"Shut up, Vala."
"Oh, right."
"See this is why we don't take you out."
"Alright, I got it." Vala huffed and then eyed a passing young man in shorts. She liked what she saw and flashed a broad smile. "Excuse me, I'll be right back." Getting up to go, Daniel's hand shot out to stop her. Pulling her back down, he gave her such a look.
"No."
"No? Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"Oh, well, since General O'Neill is here, I guess it's a private party." She smiled and gave Jack the once over. He raised his eyebrows half amused. Sam cleared her throat.
"Ahem, well, we should have a party to celebrate, sir."
"Should we, Carter?"
"And what happens when all this gets broadcast? What then?" Mitchell frowned.
"We have a problem," Jack replied.
"He got a WHAT?" President Hayes was pissed.
Retired Lt. General George Hammond frowned. As the President's Off World Affairs advisor, he was constantly shuttling between the White House and the Pentagon.
"An agent," replied Hammond. "He's with IGM, and that's not all. He also got a manager."
"What's next, an entourage?"
"Jack's got a few already. He calls them his 'brain dead sycophants.' It's serious."
"Can he do that? He's still in uniform."
"As long as he doesn't tell them what it's all about, we can't stop him."
"You're kidding, right? You're not kidding? Oh my God!" The President's mouth dropped open. "Well how did he get them to talk to him in the first place if they don't know what this is for?"
"Bregman helped them."
"I'll shoot the sonofabitch. What else, give it to me straight."
"Apparently, Dr. Jackson is in L.A. to do lunch with ICM."
"International Creative Management, that's a big agency. How's he going to get them to take him and still maintain security? What else?"
"Mitchell and Carter are in New York cutting their own deals. Carter also wants a book deal for her "Wormhole Physics" book so she's also got a literary agent. That's why she went to New York."
"Well at least Teal'c has some sense."
"Teal'c and Rak'nor went with the William Morris Agency. And Bra'tac signed with CAA, that's um, Creative Artists Agency, this morning."
"It's a free for all! You've got to do something, George!"
"I'll work on it, sir, just as soon as I have my sit down with Michael Ovitz this afternoon."
"WHAT?"
"He came out of retirement for this one, sir." Hammond chuckled. "He said Swifty Lazar is turning in his grave not being able to represent me!"
"This afternoon? You didn't lose any time, did you George?"
"Well I had to join the unions, SAG and AFTRA this morning. It's sort of a Catch-22 not having exactly been hired to do anything yet. But we got them to waive the requirements since I have made a number of televised appearances."
"I can't believe you still think you can work here after a stunt like this George."
"Sir, after we get done with GNN, none of this will matter."
"Okay, I got the message. What does everyone want to make this go away?"