Feb. 9th, 2016

[identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com

It was Mardi Gras time in New Orleans and having a few days off, Napoleon Solo dragged his partner there to experience a bit of  Americana and Louisiana tradition.



“I do not understand, you Americans have so many obscure holidays, Groundhog Day, National Anthem Day, Johnny Appleseed Day,  Liberty Day, Maple Syrup Saturday but mind you, is nowhere near National Pancake Day and neither is close to National Maple Syrup Day.”


“Not to mention New Year's Day, Chinese New Year,  Abraham Lincoln's Birthday,George Washington's Birthday, St. Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Arbor Day, Easter, April Fool's Day, Mother's Day  Memorial, Day, Flag Day, Father's Day, Independence Day, Labor Day.”


He paused to take a breath. “Labor Day, Columbus Day, Halloween, Veteran’s Day, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, Christmas. It boggles the mind... and oh yes, lest I forget this Mardi Gras. These holidays all reek of nothing but attempts by capitalistic greeting card companies and retail shops to bilk the people of their hard earned kopeks...umm, I meant money.”

"Are you finished?" Solo looked at him with amazement."Okya, I get the picture," he added, stopping his partner from going on ad nauseum."You know you can really be a party pooper sometimes."


“I am sure I could recall more if you like,” he grinned at the American, knowing full well he was annoying him just a little. “


“That’s not exactly the over-indulgence I had in mind," Napoleon mumbled.

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[identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com

“Mardi Gras is steeped in tradition as well my friend and not just about the frolics. Its King Cakes, Krewes, Grand Balls, parades, costumes, throwing of  Doubloons, beads, lots of other trinkets and fabulous music are all just a part of the big picture.” Napoleon smiled, then laughed as one of those scantily clad women tossed a handful of beads and doubloons, hitting his partner right in the face with them.


He reached down, grabbing the Mardi Gras treats, draping the beads over his and Illya’s head, and stuffed a few the commemorative coins into his jacket pocket as keepsakes.


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[identity profile] glennagirl.livejournal.com
mrua7 has started something here on Fat Tuesday, so I am posting my contribution.  This is part of my House of Vanya series, a look at the men after the events in The Return Movie.  I can't help myself, I rather like Kuryakin as an artiste, and I really like him at this age.
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The Masquerade
Return-Of-The-Man-From-UNCLE-slide
[identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com


Armed with a supply of ginger ale and a bottle of non-drowsy motion sickness pills, Illya Kuryakin stepped onto the deck of Solo’s yacht, the Pursang. He prepared himself mentally for the upcoming trip, though he’d be taking it against his will.


It wasn’t for anything as light hearted as a day out on the water, no...it was Napoleon’s plan to compete in a regatta of all things.


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[identity profile] jantojones.livejournal.com
For Illya it had felt like a long, long journey. In reality, he and Napoleon had only been travelling for about two hours. They were heading for a weekend of fishing at a large pond belonging to Solo’s grandfather. Illya would have preferred to spend the weekend following his own pursuits, but there was a small chance the two agents would have to suddenly leave for Europe. To this end, Napoleon had persuaded him to join him at his family’s cabin.

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