A/N: Again, thank you all for reading and commenting. And, well, perhaps Laura is not -that- self-conscious, but then again she is self-conscious the Marine way ...

xxxxx

Carson flicked to the next double page of the diary just to find a real short-story scribbled all over it. Aye, this was going to take a while to work through, a bloody long while. But he was sure the entry was at least a bit exciting for a change...

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Dear Diary,

The last 36 hours were a really scary trip to low-tech hell. Okay, here's the whole frigging story, just for you:

It all started with us going through the gate to explore a new planet. At first we thought it was uninhabited, but then we found a colony of stinky, grimy, primitive guys bombing us with their slingshots.

Anyway, as we later found out this place was a prison island for an oh-so-advanced culture living on the mainland, who had intelligently dumped their bad guys right there near the Stargate to serve the Wraith as finger-food.

Yikes, that punishment is almost as ugly as the slimy magistrate governing the place. That guy had a long tail of mucus dribbling all around him whenever he spoke:

Jabber, jabber, jabber... sooo pleased to meet us... jabber, jabber ... so advanced a culture ... oh so welcome on his nice planet ... blah, blah, blah...

Oh, now that we are on the subject of politicians: Have I ever told you of my aunt who was a doppelganger of Maggie Thatcher? She was very hairy and needed to shave twice a day...

Well, where did I stop? Ah, right... I was just telling this enlightening story about said auntie as I was impolitely interrupted by these goddamned prisoners shooting us out of the sky with their DIY coconut bombs.

And hell, in that fat crash landing (not one of Sheppard's 'better' landings, by the way) I CHIPPED MY TOOTH and NOBODY CARED. Luckily I have a good dental insurance back home, and that's all left to comfort me in sad moments like this.

But that was not the worst event of the day. Oh no, those prisoners took us prisoner and their semi-wise mass-murdering leader started to pick on me. He needed our jumper to 'take a trip to the city' and I 'seemed intelligent' and so he wanted me to repair it for him which, of course, was absolutely impossible.

But tell that to a thug... As I did so he almost blew my head off and told me that I was LYING and that he would KILL MY FRIENDS if I refused. And on the other hand he bombarded me with compliments about my 'hidden potential'. Hello, who did this guy think he was? SIGMUND FREUD? Oh, please...

Oh, and then I met that stuttering guy with the stupid hat, who had mixed the explosives for those guys. He was supposed to help me, but instead he kept on gabbing away about his miserable life and pulled out crystals from their sockets making any progress nearly impossible.

But at least he was nice enough to free the rest of the team with Ronon almost turning him into chop suey...

I can't help but wonder what happens when this Eldon guy makes friends with Radek. They would possibly blow us all to smithereens with their assembled explosives collection... (Okay, let's not think about it.)

And, well, I then tried to repair the jumper's DHD so that we could attempt an escape on foot before the Wraith would come and suck on us. But as usual people were disturbing me with their extra wishes. I should really open a shop when I get back to Earth:

"Welcome to McGyver's, what can I do for you? Ah, you need a washing machine that flies you to the moon... no problem. Anything else? A burger, coffee, donuts..."

Who the heck do they think I am ?

Well, luckily Elizabeth and that Sheppard-lookalike Major Lorne got us and the cons out on time, practically serving the slimy magistrate and his people to the Wraith on a silver platter now that the island was deserted...

So, I think that's it. About time I stop writing before I fill all your precious pages with senseless chatter.

Thanks again for listening,

All the best, Rodney

PS: Again I need to complain about Ronon's manners. Not only that he's a nitwit. Oh no, he also eats from alien kettles. And, really, couldn't that be the reason for the baddies noticing us at all?

And he isn't very hygienic either; dribbling his blood on the floor after getting shot with an arrow, refusing to get it plastered until Teyla comes to sweet-talk him. He really could've fit in with those Braveheart actors down on that prison island just fine. Really, that big guy is beyond my comprehension...

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Oh man, seldom Carson had seen so much jabber jumbled in one place. Even for Rodney that was a new negative record of mixed-up chatter. He should really take some time to talk to his friend about the things having happened back on the prison island. It looked like once again Rodney needed some kind of emotional trash can to be stopped from getting too loopy... Poor lad, why did he always get into this kind of trouble!

xxxxx

A/N: Okay, that's it for today.

And somehow I just couldn't help but wonder what'd happen if you put Ducky's mom and Carson's mom into one room together. What do you think?