Constructing A Story - You Decide

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

I'm adding a caveat to the poll participation for those who like a challenge: Write a story based on your answers.  And yes, I'm grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

[Poll #1931390][Poll #1931390]

Snapshots ~"Some changes aren't always for the best"

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

                         

“Seriously….styrofoam plates? No, correct that, styrofoam trays with food compartments. What is this, prison?  What happened to the dishes?” Napoleon Solo balked as his food was ladled onto the new tray.  It wasn’t very sturdy and he needed to place on top of one of the metal serving trays at the end of the line.  “If I’d wanted my food separated, I’d have stayed in the army.”

There were five neat little compartments on the tray, segregating Napoleon’s paltry cube steak, from the peas and carrots, mashed potatoes, green beans and in the last section, a small cup of sliced peaches.

“I agree Napoleon, “April chimed in from behind him.” This reminds me of those dreadful T.V. dinners that are all the rage...eww, they’re disgusting.”

“I find them palatable, as well as convenient,” Illya said as he stepped up beside her. “We have our usual corner table, “ he directed her with a nod. “As to the styrofoam plates...did you not read the memo that is a cost cutting maneuver on the part of accounting for the Commissary. Apparently there were too many plates being broken and not by accident. Someone even took a few down to the indoor range and was tossing them like clay pigeons.”

The all sat down together at their usual spot; both Napoleon and April’s eyes went wide open as Illya had two trays where he sat, loaded with just about everything that was on the afternoon menu.

“What?” He looked up at them, sensing their stares.


“So you like these compartmentalized things chum?”

“Yes, it actually enables me to add more to my plate, and things do not….mix, or rather run together.” He dug into a piece of Chicken Cordon Bleu.

“Illya dear, you could just go back for seconds you know,” April put in her two cents worth.

“Don’t go there April,” Napoleon blurted out, but it was too late.

“Where I came from, there were never left overs. I lived with…”

“Yeah, yeah, we know. You lived with six other people in a one-bedroom apartment and there was never enough food and they ate like animals yadda yadda yadda.  Tovarisch, we’ve heard it before,okay? Yes we know you have a high metabolism as well, but isn’t it about time you adapted to your new home.  There’ll always be seconds, and heck, there’ll always be room for jello too.” Solo snickered at that last remark.

The Russian looked as calm as can be. “Napoleon, there is no need to belittle my eating habits. If you do not like them, then you do not have to sit with me….I will move elsewhere. We both have our own ways of doing things and there is nothing wrong with that. And you know I do loath that green jello.”

“I didn’t say green jello,” Solo grinned.

“There, look what you’ve done Napoleon; you’ve insulted our friend,” April chided. “I think you should apologized to him.

The American let a rare moment of embarrassment get hold of his expression. “Gee, Illya I wasn’t trying to insult you, honestly.  Sorry if I did.”

“Apology accepted. Now may we just relax and eat in peace?”

“Sure, but this doesn’t mean I have to like the styrofoam plates...do I? Hmmm, I wonder if we could used these for target practice too?”

“Oh it was you who used the plates then?” April took an accusatory tone.

“I admit to nothing,” Napoleon smiled, with a twinkle in his eye.”

“Ye reap what ye sow, Napoleon Solo, so don’t complain about the styrofoam, as it’s your fault.”

“I deny any culpability,” He speared a piece of steak and popped it in his mouth.

“So you deny being called into the Old Man’s office for a dressing down?” Illya grinned.

“Well, ah...no. Hey how did you find out about that?"

“My Russian lips are sealed. Case closed. So stop complaining about the styrofoam my friend. Now if I have done my calculations correctly, and I usually do; accounting will find these replacements, in the end, cost prohibitive and we will get our regular dishes back.  I will estimate, in about a month.” Illya left the table coming back with another tray filled with small samplings of deserts.

“Well if you keep using the trays at the rate you are Illya dear...it might be sooner than you predict,”April laughed.

“Eat away tovarisch, would you like me to get you some more food?” Napoleon smirked.

"The Drawing Board" in response to Constructing a Story Poll on Section VII

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Glenna told ua to write a story based on our answers to today's poll.  So here is where my muse took me...yes a bit strange, I know and I was bad and didn't follow the prompts. So this is just an imaginary conversation between two 'greats,' bringing in just a few of the poll elements.

          l

“Once upon a time there were two men, men from U.N.C.L.E.”

“Uncle you say? Are they cousins you ask?  No these two men, are partners but more like brothers, and aren’t related. U.N.C.L.E. is not a person but  a secret organization they work for; the letters stand for the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement.”

“So they’re police?”

“Sort of yes, sort of no...Napoleon Solo the dark haired one, and Illya Kuryakin the blond Russian are really spies, covert agents who travel the globe to fight evil to prevent an organization known as T.H.R.U.S.H. from taking over the world. They come up with some pretty dastardly plans to do it, but our trusty men from U.N.C.L.E. manage to thwart them again and again at great risk to their own lives.

“Odd first names, though nice to see you’re using 'Solo' as I graciously gave it to you. I don't think I want to know what T.H.R.U.S.H. stands for. So there’s only men from …?”

“No there’s a woman too. April Dancer, she’s the redhead and the only female agent in New York, but she’s soon to be joined by another red-headed agent transferring in from the London office, her name is Elliott McGowan.”

“So they’ll be partners too?”

“No, Mark Slate is April’s partner. He’s British.”

“Oh, what about this Elliott woman, is she English too? That’s a strange name for a woman, by the way. Is that a requirement for working for this U.N.C.L.E.?”

“No. And to answer your question, Elliott is Irish. Her father was a fan of Elliott Ness, and wanted a boy, but got a daughter instead, He decided to use the name anyway."

“So where does she fit into all this?”

“For now she’s just another female agent…she’ll come into the picture much later on. Illya’s love interest and eventual wife.”

“Wait, I thought you told me these agents couldn’t marry?”

“I lied….now let’s focus on Illya and Napoleon.”

“Okay, you’re the narrator.”

“Well, more like omniscient observer, or perhaps just more of a character developer."

“Whatever it is, just get on with the story. I need to go to lunch soon. I’m hungry Norman.”

“You’re always hungry, Ian. Will you do me a favor and stop smoking. You know I don’t like cigarettes.”

“Fine.”

“Okay so here’s the story outline: Napoleon and Illya are sent to destroy a satrapy and…”

“What’s a satrapy Norman, is it sort of an evil lair?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Then why didn’t you just call it that. You Americans and your version of the English language never cease to amaze me.”

“Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“Only if it’s brief Norman. Remember, I’m bloody hungry.”

“You know what Ian, we’ll do this another time…”