Originally Posted: Jun. 4th, 2008
Length/Rating: 530 words, PG, Gen
Summary: Shamelessly silly MuseFic. …Why yes, I do have too much free time on my hands…
“STARGATE ATLANTIS”, “STARGATE SG-1” and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by MGM TELEVISION and DOUBLE SECRET PRODUCTION in association with GEKKO FILMS and THE SCIFI CHANNEL. All rights reserved. No copyright infringement is intended nor implied.
“HOUSE, M.D.” and other related entities are owned, (TM) and © by HEEL AND TOE FILMS and BAD HAT HARRY PRODUCTIONS in association with NBC UNIVERSAL TELEVISION. All rights reserved. No copyright infringement is intended nor implied.
(a Play in One Act)
GREGORY HOUSE: Snarktastic Head of Diagnostic Medicine at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Leg injury, cane qualifies as
RODNEY MCKAY: Chief Scientist of Atlantis, see above as to snark capabilities.
JOHN SHEPPARD: Head of Atlantis Military, immune to snark.
FANFIC WRITER: Avatar of the writer.
CAT: Avatar of the cat. (Don’t ask)
(The living room of FANFIC WRITER’s house. There is a TV on the far wall, a battered green couch, a coffee table, and a long folding table that is being used as a computer desk (two computers). WRITER is sitting at her computer working on a fanfic. GREGORY HOUSE is lounging on the couch looking bored. The TV is set to the SCIFI Channel which is playing a horribly cheesy Z-grade scifi flick. There is a hallway to the right of WRITER from which sounds of electrical engineering can be heard. CAT is asleep on the empty computer chair beside the WRITER.)
My show writers hate me.
(HOUSE glares at WRITER accusingly while looking for the TV remotes by poking things on the coffee table with his cane.)
(Does not look up from the computer)
They do not.
(Waves a hand in the vague direction of HOUSE, attempting to divert him from finding the remotes)
Now stop that.
They do too, you saw the season finale.
(Continues to poke items on the coffee table.)
What kind of writer does that to their fictives? I mean come on now, fair is fair but–
It’s called dramatic license. Besides you make everyone else’s life hell most of the time, maybe they took up a petition or something.
I was kidding.
No, no, I think you have a point there, the ducklings can be downright vicious if they scent bread in the water.
Don’t you have someone else you can bother?
Ah-ah, no can do, we’re on summer break after all. Can’t spend it all playing Gameboy and watching soaps.
(Finally uncovers remotes.)
Oh, wait, yes I can.
Will you give me–
(Tries to rescue the remotes from HOUSE.)
This isn’t a democracy! Now gimme!
Possession is nine-tenths of the law.
My house, my laws, and possession certainly isn’t one of them.
Fine, make me.
(Changes the channel to his favorite soap and settles back into the couch with a smug grin.)
(Turns to yell down the hallway)
(Electrical engineering noises stop and RODNEY MCKAY enters from the hallway.)
What? (pause) Oh. (pause) You have got to be kidding me, really, this is what you want to waste my time with?
(JOHN SHEPPARD enters from the same direction as RODNEY.)
Ah, there you are–
(looks at the TV, looks at WRITER)
I thought you didn’t like soap operas.
Then why are you watching them?
(to JOHN) I think I like you.
Oh good God, you—
(grabs JOHN by the sleeve)
We are leaving, now.
(RODNEY and JOHN exit via the hallway.)