Olé! : A story for the Howdowe Challenge
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section7mfuSummary: Napoleon and Illya have an unexpected problem during the festival of San Fermin in Spain. For the HODOWE challege of San Fermin, U.N.C.L.E. HQ on ff.net and Section VII on Live Journal.
____________________________________
“Why didn’t you remind me it was the running of the bulls? Napoleon hollered as his lungs heaved for air.
“What is Pamplona most famous for?” Illya huffed.” It is early July is it not, and that is always the time for the festival of San Fermín.”
“You’re the one who knows all this stuff! I wouldn’t have taken this route if I’d known. This was supposed to have been a milk run!” Napoleon was shouting louder now as a few of the beasts were coming closer to them.
“Well it is sort of a milk run, as they are bovines.” Illya laughed as he looked back at the dozen or so animals that lumbered behind them.
“Not a very good pun, they’re bulls Illya, not cows!”
“I knoooow,” he yelled, dodging one of the larger beasts. “I did not think you needed to be reminded. This the last time you navigate... your fault we are stuck here!”
“Bad choice of words! So sue me, I took a wrong turn!”
The roar of the crowds lining the street for the long “running” tradition completely drowned out his words.
“Again...look out!” Illya cried as a half dozen bulls veered off towards them, charging in their direction.
The agents jumped to save themselves, clinging to a protective wooden blockade that had been erected to control the running. As they dangled precariously from it; there was a ripping sound as the seat of Napoleon’s trousers were caught and torn by one of the bull’s horns.
“I am not explaining that to Waverly....” Illya called out, grinning from ear to ear.
.
With the last of the bulls, the runners and most of the onlookers gone from sight, Illya and Napoleon deemed it safe to move and hopped down from the fence, dusting themselves off. Napoleon took a closer look at his pants, letting out a prolonged and annoyed moan as he removed his jacket, tying it around his waist. “So much for this suit.”
“If you purchased the same sort clothing as I do, you would not have to worry about matching and such.” Illya’s pointed his wagging finger accusingly at Napoleons rear.
“Sorry partner mine, basic black ‘everything‘ just isn’t my style’.”
Illya scrunched up his face.“Was it not Da Vinci who said “Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication?”
And my motto is “Variety is the spice of life.”
A shake of the head and pursed lips were the Russian’s immediate response. “At least you can now brag that you participated in the running of the bulls, and came away relatively unscathed. Did you know that it is actually a cattle run, and the animals will be slaughtered this evening?”
“The locals run to show their bravado while reenacting the transporting of the bulls that dates back to the14th century. While moving cattle to sell at market, men would attempt to speed the process by hurrying their cattle along using tactics of fear and excitement. After many years of doing so, it turned into a traditional competition, and young men attempt to race in front of the bulls without being overtaken.”
“I suppose that’s a far better fate than being killed slowly by a matador.”
“Yes, I agree,” Illya said. “I recall my brief moment in the bullring when chased there by Thrush, seeing those animals being killed slowly for entertainment purposes went against the grain for me.* My father taught me long ago not to kill animals for sport and only for food, and to respect their right to live, just like human beings.” **
They made a hasty retreat back to their hotel, allowing Napoleon to change into another suit. He folded up his damaged trousers, as now accounting was requiring physical proof and a detailed explanation of how said damage occurred, given that he had so many expenses submitted for ruined, expensive suits.
Apparently Napoleon Solo held the record...
“Why is it you don’t have problems with accounting for your clothing expenses?” Napoleon groused.
“It is because I can safely match all my black pants and jackets, so what does it matter if some pieces are ruined. I still have enough to combine them together and therefore have no need to replace my suits per se. I put in for damaged clothing only if it becomes absolutely necessary, and I do not do it as often as you my friend. I have a few sports jackets of varying color, and if I feel like a change, they go well with black trousers. Unlike you, I have learned not to wear a good suit on assignment, especially after that time I was chased by Victor Marton and his ilk.” ***
“Well you may have been raised to wear your clothes until they were threadbare, but I was brought up in diplomatic circles and one had to dress properly and not in off the rack suits mind you. So old habits die hard.”
Illya frowned at that remark. “Do you really think I wore my clothing out by choice? I was a poor agent, and had to make do. Yes for me too, old habits died hard at first, but now I have plenty of clothing. However, I do not waste my hard-earned pay on frivolous, costly suits knowing they will most likely be damaged anyway...and it keeps me in the good graces of the finance department.”
Napoleon crinkled his nose. “Well to each his own. There’s nothing wrong with the best.”
“Tell that to accounting when you submit reimbursement for those trousers.” Illya snickered.
.
* ref “The Bat Cave Affair.” ** ref “The Hunting Party.”
*** ref “The Foxes and Hounds Affair”
____________________________________
“Why didn’t you remind me it was the running of the bulls? Napoleon hollered as his lungs heaved for air.
“What is Pamplona most famous for?” Illya huffed.” It is early July is it not, and that is always the time for the festival of San Fermín.”
“You’re the one who knows all this stuff! I wouldn’t have taken this route if I’d known. This was supposed to have been a milk run!” Napoleon was shouting louder now as a few of the beasts were coming closer to them.
“Well it is sort of a milk run, as they are bovines.” Illya laughed as he looked back at the dozen or so animals that lumbered behind them.
“Not a very good pun, they’re bulls Illya, not cows!”
“I knoooow,” he yelled, dodging one of the larger beasts. “I did not think you needed to be reminded. This the last time you navigate... your fault we are stuck here!”
“Bad choice of words! So sue me, I took a wrong turn!”
The roar of the crowds lining the street for the long “running” tradition completely drowned out his words.
“Again...look out!” Illya cried as a half dozen bulls veered off towards them, charging in their direction.
The agents jumped to save themselves, clinging to a protective wooden blockade that had been erected to control the running. As they dangled precariously from it; there was a ripping sound as the seat of Napoleon’s trousers were caught and torn by one of the bull’s horns.
“I am not explaining that to Waverly....” Illya called out, grinning from ear to ear.
.
With the last of the bulls, the runners and most of the onlookers gone from sight, Illya and Napoleon deemed it safe to move and hopped down from the fence, dusting themselves off. Napoleon took a closer look at his pants, letting out a prolonged and annoyed moan as he removed his jacket, tying it around his waist. “So much for this suit.”
“If you purchased the same sort clothing as I do, you would not have to worry about matching and such.” Illya’s pointed his wagging finger accusingly at Napoleons rear.
“Sorry partner mine, basic black ‘everything‘ just isn’t my style’.”
Illya scrunched up his face.“Was it not Da Vinci who said “Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication?”
And my motto is “Variety is the spice of life.”
A shake of the head and pursed lips were the Russian’s immediate response. “At least you can now brag that you participated in the running of the bulls, and came away relatively unscathed. Did you know that it is actually a cattle run, and the animals will be slaughtered this evening?”
“The locals run to show their bravado while reenacting the transporting of the bulls that dates back to the14th century. While moving cattle to sell at market, men would attempt to speed the process by hurrying their cattle along using tactics of fear and excitement. After many years of doing so, it turned into a traditional competition, and young men attempt to race in front of the bulls without being overtaken.”
“Yeah, bravado...right.” Napoleon reached back, patting his derrière. “So those bulls aren’t destined for the ring?”
“For some, apparently not.”
“I suppose that’s a far better fate than being killed slowly by a matador.”
“Yes, I agree,” Illya said. “I recall my brief moment in the bullring when chased there by Thrush, seeing those animals being killed slowly for entertainment purposes went against the grain for me.* My father taught me long ago not to kill animals for sport and only for food, and to respect their right to live, just like human beings.” **
They made a hasty retreat back to their hotel, allowing Napoleon to change into another suit. He folded up his damaged trousers, as now accounting was requiring physical proof and a detailed explanation of how said damage occurred, given that he had so many expenses submitted for ruined, expensive suits.
Apparently Napoleon Solo held the record...
“Why is it you don’t have problems with accounting for your clothing expenses?” Napoleon groused.
“It is because I can safely match all my black pants and jackets, so what does it matter if some pieces are ruined. I still have enough to combine them together and therefore have no need to replace my suits per se. I put in for damaged clothing only if it becomes absolutely necessary, and I do not do it as often as you my friend. I have a few sports jackets of varying color, and if I feel like a change, they go well with black trousers. Unlike you, I have learned not to wear a good suit on assignment, especially after that time I was chased by Victor Marton and his ilk.” ***
“Well you may have been raised to wear your clothes until they were threadbare, but I was brought up in diplomatic circles and one had to dress properly and not in off the rack suits mind you. So old habits die hard.”
Illya frowned at that remark. “Do you really think I wore my clothing out by choice? I was a poor agent, and had to make do. Yes for me too, old habits died hard at first, but now I have plenty of clothing. However, I do not waste my hard-earned pay on frivolous, costly suits knowing they will most likely be damaged anyway...and it keeps me in the good graces of the finance department.”
Napoleon crinkled his nose. “Well to each his own. There’s nothing wrong with the best.”
“Tell that to accounting when you submit reimbursement for those trousers.” Illya snickered.
.
* ref “The Bat Cave Affair.” ** ref “The Hunting Party.”
*** ref “The Foxes and Hounds Affair”
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