donutsweeper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
donutsweeper) wrote2008-03-26 12:58 pm
donutsweeper) wrote2008-03-26 12:58 pm
Entry tags:
Jack and the Ultimate No Good Cracktastically Clichéd Very Bad Day
Title: Jack and the Ultimate No Good Cracktastically Clichéd Very Bad Day
Pairing/Warning/Rating: Jack/himself (sort of), crack warning, cliché warning, rated PG
Word Count: 610
Beta:_medley_
Summary: There is a plot, but this was mostly an attempt to sneak as many crack clichés as possible into a story. Can you spot all 18?
Author's Note: The clichés herein come from thewtf27 prompt list. I tip my hat to them for the inspiration.
“Well, it looks like...” Owen paused, cleared his throat, and then picked up the test results and buried his nose in them again.
“Out with it, Owen.” Jack, Torchwood Three’s Jack, was tired of Owen’s delays.
“Tell us how to fix this or I will shoot you,” threatened Jack. The other Jack. The one that fell through the rift and caused all the problems. The one that was already so angry he couldn’t see straight. Angry because he was now a she. And angry because they’d listened to Owen when he’d insisted that the only way to prevent the catastrophic breakdown of the two Jack’s DNA, and the resulting implosion that might destroy the rift and the world, was to have sex. This Jack was a former hooker and pornstar and had always prided himself, whatever shape his body happened to be in the moment, on providing the most mindblowing sexual experiences his partner could hope for. ‘Wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ was nothing to be proud of, especially when the cataclysmic result was screwed up DNA for both of them. Tentacles were itchy.
“You can’t kill my team’s doctor,” the other Jack warned, unfurling his wings in frustration.
“Well, considering he’s already dead here that’s not an issue, is it?” His/her tentacles shot out and grabbed the papers out of Owen’s hands. “I know this is your Torchwood, and seventy years more advanced than mine, but a zombie doctor? Really.”
“Errr, congratulations?” Owen offered, walking as quickly as he could for the doorway, only to have his escape blocked when it was slammed shut. He spun around. “Who did that?” But neither Jack admitted using their telekinesis to trap him in the room with them.
“What do you mean, congratulations?” Torchwood Three’s Jack oozed menace as he stepped closer.
“You’re both pregnant?” Owen’s voice squeaked as he delivered the news. Feeling the tension in the room rise he continued, “And before you say males can’t be pregnant remember one of you is a woman now and... well... remember in some species the males carry the fetus.”
“You said I’d turn back into a guy when I returned home.”
“Yeah... about that...” Owen fumbled about, waving his hands around haphazardly. “You see... I mean I thought...”
“And I am not a seahorse!” The other Jack interrupted.
“With the transmogrifier we could....” He gestured at the cabinet where it was stored.
“I have two words for you Owen. HELL. And NO. Although...” The two Jacks eyed each other. Tentacles undulated over and selected the correct device. A flick of some dials and a short burst of purple light later and a monkey was suddenly jumping up and down in Owen’s place.
“The Merlin owes me a favor or two.” Jack absentmindedly stroked his breasts as he spoke. “Doctor Crusher as well. Between his magic and her tech they should be able to fix this. What do you say we meet over at Callahan’s in 1987 or so? They’re used to visiting time travelers and whatnot. And the drinks are cheap.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Jack followed Jack out the door, turning back to the angry monkey. “I’m taking the transmogrifier with me. I shouldn’t be gone too long.” He tossed Owen a banana. “Stay out of trouble or I’ll let that Narn princess buy you the minute I change you back. Right now I’m liking the idea of you being a slave.” Owen’s shriek echoed as he pulled the door shut behind him.
Gallantly, he offered his other self an arm. “Shall we, darlin’?” They walked down the hall, pretending not to notice where each other’s wings and tentacles wound up.
Now with accompanying art!
Pairing/Warning/Rating: Jack/himself (sort of), crack warning, cliché warning, rated PG
Word Count: 610
Beta:
_medley_Summary: There is a plot, but this was mostly an attempt to sneak as many crack clichés as possible into a story. Can you spot all 18?
Author's Note: The clichés herein come from the
wtf27 prompt list. I tip my hat to them for the inspiration.“Well, it looks like...” Owen paused, cleared his throat, and then picked up the test results and buried his nose in them again.
“Out with it, Owen.” Jack, Torchwood Three’s Jack, was tired of Owen’s delays.
“Tell us how to fix this or I will shoot you,” threatened Jack. The other Jack. The one that fell through the rift and caused all the problems. The one that was already so angry he couldn’t see straight. Angry because he was now a she. And angry because they’d listened to Owen when he’d insisted that the only way to prevent the catastrophic breakdown of the two Jack’s DNA, and the resulting implosion that might destroy the rift and the world, was to have sex. This Jack was a former hooker and pornstar and had always prided himself, whatever shape his body happened to be in the moment, on providing the most mindblowing sexual experiences his partner could hope for. ‘Wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ was nothing to be proud of, especially when the cataclysmic result was screwed up DNA for both of them. Tentacles were itchy.
“You can’t kill my team’s doctor,” the other Jack warned, unfurling his wings in frustration.
“Well, considering he’s already dead here that’s not an issue, is it?” His/her tentacles shot out and grabbed the papers out of Owen’s hands. “I know this is your Torchwood, and seventy years more advanced than mine, but a zombie doctor? Really.”
“Errr, congratulations?” Owen offered, walking as quickly as he could for the doorway, only to have his escape blocked when it was slammed shut. He spun around. “Who did that?” But neither Jack admitted using their telekinesis to trap him in the room with them.
“What do you mean, congratulations?” Torchwood Three’s Jack oozed menace as he stepped closer.
“You’re both pregnant?” Owen’s voice squeaked as he delivered the news. Feeling the tension in the room rise he continued, “And before you say males can’t be pregnant remember one of you is a woman now and... well... remember in some species the males carry the fetus.”
“You said I’d turn back into a guy when I returned home.”
“Yeah... about that...” Owen fumbled about, waving his hands around haphazardly. “You see... I mean I thought...”
“And I am not a seahorse!” The other Jack interrupted.
“With the transmogrifier we could....” He gestured at the cabinet where it was stored.
“I have two words for you Owen. HELL. And NO. Although...” The two Jacks eyed each other. Tentacles undulated over and selected the correct device. A flick of some dials and a short burst of purple light later and a monkey was suddenly jumping up and down in Owen’s place.
“The Merlin owes me a favor or two.” Jack absentmindedly stroked his breasts as he spoke. “Doctor Crusher as well. Between his magic and her tech they should be able to fix this. What do you say we meet over at Callahan’s in 1987 or so? They’re used to visiting time travelers and whatnot. And the drinks are cheap.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Jack followed Jack out the door, turning back to the angry monkey. “I’m taking the transmogrifier with me. I shouldn’t be gone too long.” He tossed Owen a banana. “Stay out of trouble or I’ll let that Narn princess buy you the minute I change you back. Right now I’m liking the idea of you being a slave.” Owen’s shriek echoed as he pulled the door shut behind him.
Gallantly, he offered his other self an arm. “Shall we, darlin’?” They walked down the hall, pretending not to notice where each other’s wings and tentacles wound up.
Now with accompanying art!
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Just strip and show Logan he has something to live for. Quit all that damn talking!
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