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Title: Beta Beware
Fandom: A-Team
Characters: HM Murdock, Face
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Fanfic, for fun, not profit.
Notes: Sorry to all those who just said so many nice things about my SG-1 fic, it's in my old fanfic grounds the A-Team. It's silly and a little piece in honor of Beta Appreciation Day that's coming up on Wednesday and to answer the challenge to use the (totally ridiculous) line: "That's fascinating." He said, sounding fascinated.
"'It was a dark and stormy night when, suddenly, a shot rang out.'"
Face stopped reading. "You've got to be kidding," he said. "Murdock, you can't write that as your opening sentence!" He'd just stopped by for a quick visit, but Murdock had roped him into helping with some story he was writing. While he hadn't expected it be a Pulitzer prize winner, he hadn't expected it to be this bad, either. "You realize that is the most cliched opening even written, don't you?"
"But, Face, it's the way my favorite author always starts out."
"Your favorite author? Come on, Murdock, there's no author in the world who would write that."
"Snoopy does. Just look in Sunday's paper."
"I can't believe you're taking writing advice from a cartoon dog." Well, that wasn't completely true. This was Murdock, after all.
Murdock shrugged. "Billy thought it was a good idea."
"Why does that not surprise me?" Face sighed. Sometimes playing along with Murdock's games required more energy than he had. "We can come back to that later. Openings can always be changed."
Face turned his attention back to Murdock's story, reading it aloud once more.
"'The stunningly vivacious, tantalizingly beautiful, amazingly talented, enticingly multilingual, gorgeously built, perfectly preened primdonna, with her bleached blonde hair, full ruby red lips, round bosoms straining at the tight, white, almost-to-short tank top, and her string of ill-gotten pearliest pearls gleaming against her smooth, pale, ivory skin, stared off at the tempus tossed trees and sighed a deep abiding sigh of longing and...'" Face ran out of breath before he ran out of sentence.
"Unbelievable." It was the only word that he could think of.
"I knew you would like her," Murdock grinned at him. "I wrote her with you in mind.
Face hoped he wasn't serious. The sentence didn't get any better; it didn't end, either. Face skimmed the rest of the page. "This whole page is a description of her?"
Murdock nodded. "And the next. I wanted to get every detail right."
Face jumped ahead to the first paragraph break. He didn't find one until page three. "I'll just skip to where they start talking," Face said. "I don't think I can handle two more pages of that."
He expected Murdock to look crestfallen at that, but instead the pilot grinned. "Wonderful."
Face chose not to comment, instead turning back to Murdock's manuscript.
"'Can I ask you a question,' the blonde queried, questioningly.
"'What is it, my dear?' the tall dark and handsome man asked, puzzledly.
"'Can you please give me a ride home?' the statuesque twenty-two and a half year old breathlessly pleaded, pleadingly.
"'Why do you need one?' the soon to be unemployed stockbroker questioned, unknowingly.
"'Some vile, despicable, horrid, rotten, no-good, and just plain bad person just shot my car,' the distraught and upset female woman stated, factually.
"'That's fascinating.' He said, sounding fascinated."
Face dropped the papers. "I can't take it any more. This is horrible."
"Really? Is it that bad?"
"It's worse than horrible. It's torture."
"Good."
Face looked up at Murdock. "Good? You want it to be bad."
"Of course I do." Murdock smiled. "I'm entering it in the VA Bad Fiction contest."
Face groaned. "Next time, I'm making BA come visit you."
Fandom: A-Team
Characters: HM Murdock, Face
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: Fanfic, for fun, not profit.
Notes: Sorry to all those who just said so many nice things about my SG-1 fic, it's in my old fanfic grounds the A-Team. It's silly and a little piece in honor of Beta Appreciation Day that's coming up on Wednesday and to answer the challenge to use the (totally ridiculous) line: "That's fascinating." He said, sounding fascinated.
"'It was a dark and stormy night when, suddenly, a shot rang out.'"
Face stopped reading. "You've got to be kidding," he said. "Murdock, you can't write that as your opening sentence!" He'd just stopped by for a quick visit, but Murdock had roped him into helping with some story he was writing. While he hadn't expected it be a Pulitzer prize winner, he hadn't expected it to be this bad, either. "You realize that is the most cliched opening even written, don't you?"
"But, Face, it's the way my favorite author always starts out."
"Your favorite author? Come on, Murdock, there's no author in the world who would write that."
"Snoopy does. Just look in Sunday's paper."
"I can't believe you're taking writing advice from a cartoon dog." Well, that wasn't completely true. This was Murdock, after all.
Murdock shrugged. "Billy thought it was a good idea."
"Why does that not surprise me?" Face sighed. Sometimes playing along with Murdock's games required more energy than he had. "We can come back to that later. Openings can always be changed."
Face turned his attention back to Murdock's story, reading it aloud once more.
"'The stunningly vivacious, tantalizingly beautiful, amazingly talented, enticingly multilingual, gorgeously built, perfectly preened primdonna, with her bleached blonde hair, full ruby red lips, round bosoms straining at the tight, white, almost-to-short tank top, and her string of ill-gotten pearliest pearls gleaming against her smooth, pale, ivory skin, stared off at the tempus tossed trees and sighed a deep abiding sigh of longing and...'" Face ran out of breath before he ran out of sentence.
"Unbelievable." It was the only word that he could think of.
"I knew you would like her," Murdock grinned at him. "I wrote her with you in mind.
Face hoped he wasn't serious. The sentence didn't get any better; it didn't end, either. Face skimmed the rest of the page. "This whole page is a description of her?"
Murdock nodded. "And the next. I wanted to get every detail right."
Face jumped ahead to the first paragraph break. He didn't find one until page three. "I'll just skip to where they start talking," Face said. "I don't think I can handle two more pages of that."
He expected Murdock to look crestfallen at that, but instead the pilot grinned. "Wonderful."
Face chose not to comment, instead turning back to Murdock's manuscript.
"'Can I ask you a question,' the blonde queried, questioningly.
"'What is it, my dear?' the tall dark and handsome man asked, puzzledly.
"'Can you please give me a ride home?' the statuesque twenty-two and a half year old breathlessly pleaded, pleadingly.
"'Why do you need one?' the soon to be unemployed stockbroker questioned, unknowingly.
"'Some vile, despicable, horrid, rotten, no-good, and just plain bad person just shot my car,' the distraught and upset female woman stated, factually.
"'That's fascinating.' He said, sounding fascinated."
Face dropped the papers. "I can't take it any more. This is horrible."
"Really? Is it that bad?"
"It's worse than horrible. It's torture."
"Good."
Face looked up at Murdock. "Good? You want it to be bad."
"Of course I do." Murdock smiled. "I'm entering it in the VA Bad Fiction contest."
Face groaned. "Next time, I'm making BA come visit you."
