Interlude: July's Birthday

[rc45]

Title: Agent July's Birthday

Author: agenttrojie

Rating: er, PG? Comedy drug use, comedy alcohol, comedy ungulates ...

Thanks as always to tea_fiend for the beta-read.





Walking innocently into the HQ Cafeteria is often ill-advised. This is for a variety of reasons, up to and including the terrible food and the violent cafeteria workers. Agent July was on this fateful day striding into the Cafeteria, when a raggedy and begrimed Agent staggered up to her and clutched her sleeve.

'Agent July!' it wheezed. 'Beware the Ides of July!'

'Whut?'

But before the Agent could reply it was swept away in a tide of other people, all converging on the luckless Agent July.

'July!'

'It's your birthday!'

Before she could do anything sensible, like run, or draw her weaponry, July found herself blindfolded and whirled around vigorously. It's my birthday? she thought woozily. Oh, right. Well, that explains everything.

By the time she'd regained her balance, she was being hustled along a corridor.

'You know, guys, this isn't necessary. It's only a birthday. I mean ...'

'It's a funny thing,' said someone in an Sino-American drawl, 'but the people havin' the birthdays are often not as keen on enjoying the party as we think they ought to be.'

'And we want to have a party,' said someone else, excitably.

'And they made me tell them where you'd be,' said Library's voice, resignedly. 'I did try and send you a warning.'

'That 'Ides of July' stuff?' asked July. 'I thought we were having another Misquote Your Favourite Shakespeare theme day.'

'That was last Tuesday', said someone psychically. July sighed. Ever since the Crisis Double Whammy, Cray had chosen to speak alternately psychically and audibly. July suspected this was primarily to hack off her partner, Gypsy. Listening to the footsteps ringing in the corridor, July suspected there were three Agents escorting her - Library, Cray, and she suspected Gypsy. Straining her ears, she could also hear music in the background. Happy, bouncy Eighties music. It was getting louder. There were coloured lights filtering through the blindfold now ... and ... a splashing noise?

'Ta daaaa!'

The blindfold was whipped off, and July blinked in the light of the flashing neon dance floor that had been erected around the Fountain of Bleepka.

There were fairy lights.

There were presents, in a pile to the side of the dancefloor

There was a ... llama, which was being led in by Agent Trojanhorse. She had the big happy smile on her face that meant she was doing something that was probably highly ill-advised.

'Why is there a llama?' asked July distractedly, because while it was the first question to pop into her head, it was quickly being pushed aside by the question 'Why is Lux wearing a coconut bra and a grass skirt, and is that a pineapple ...?!'

'I believe the idea was to have a luau in your honour,' said Library, with a worried expression on her face. 'And it's a guanaco, not a llama. I suspect getting that wrong might get you a special birthday lecture from Trojie.'

'Thanks for the tip.'

'And I think it's here because-' Library paused, and thought for a minute. 'Oh yes. And I quote. 'Because it's not a proper celebration unless there's an entirely inappropriate ungulate present'.'

'And Luxury?'

'I think she came as Hawaii.'



Three hours later, the dancefloor was full of people, and July was, mildly against her wishes, in the centre. She had been dragged there by Lux, and despite all her attempts to escape, had not managed to do so. This was mainly because the floor appeared to be at right angles to the rainbows, and all the purple giraffes were susiciously bendy, and their tentacles were preventing her from moving. July was starting to be suspicious that her drink had been spiked. Slightly.


'Where are my hands?' July shouted into Trojie's ear, hoping that she could be heard above the strains of Blondie.

'What did you give her?' Trojie in turn shouted into Pads' ear. 'And are you sure she's going to be okay?'

'She'll be fine, she's lost her hands right on cue. They're only Glodstoppers!'

'We don't even know entirely what's in those, other than troll hallucinogenics and bleach!'

'She's not a troll, and she's probably immune to bleach. She'll be fine.'

'WHERE are my HANDS?!'

'It's okay, July, they'll come back. Don't you love this song?'

July looked far from convinced. 'You gave me your experimental drugs? Whyyyy?'

''Cause I can't take them,' said Pads wryly, patting her belly. 'And I can't drink, either. Or smoke.'

'Look, you wanted to be preggers by Rafa Nadal. It's not my fault.'

'It is your fault, you knew damn well what I meant and it included a more entertaining precursor than 'push the big blue button'.'

'There are benefits, you know,' said JF, who had mysteriously materialised. 'At least she feeds you. She doesn't feed me.'

'Yes, the feeding is good,' said Pads happily. 'More people should get kitchenettes in their RCs.'


While this conversation was going on, July managed to crawl off the dancefloor and collapse at the sidelines. She was followed, however, by Lasa from the Department of Angst.

'I don't blame you,' said the young blonde girl. 'Not my scene either.'

''Smyscene,' slurred July. 'Jus'notm'drugs.'

'Hmm. Well, they say, the quality of mercy is not strained,' said Lasa, fumbling in her pockets before handing a pill bottle across to July. 'It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven. And all that. Take two of those.'

'Wassat?'

'Mombi calls them sober-up pills. They're kaolin. And a few other things that Doc Fitz thought might be a good idea after we accidentally administered an overdose to Susan Sto Helit.'

'Hmmm?' July wrestled with the child-proof cap and then looked beseechingly at Lasa, who sighed heavily, opened the bottle and handed two pills to the Floater Agent.

'There you are. Have a good night. I'm off to bed with Tolstoy.'

There was a snigger in the background.

'The COMPLETE WORKS of Tolstoy,' corrected Lasa longsufferingly, without turning around. She then marched off.

July fumbled with the pills in her hand for a few minutes before realising she had no water. Attempting to stand up was interesting.

'Looking for this?' A redhead with a big smile and even bigger glasses inspected her briefly and then handed her a glass of water. 'Happy Birthday, by the way. I'm Mombi.' She skipped off as July took the pills.

'Thank you?'

'Don't thank me yet, I've still got all my clothes on,' said Luxury, throwing herself at July. 'And so do you!'

'Ack! Gerroff!'

'Present time!' shouted Pads suddenly, causing Luxury to leap athletically off July and into the heap of gifts. July sighed with relief, and Pads winked at her.

It took some time to sort through all the presents ...

'Thanks for the ... 90% proof hallucinogenic Bleepsinthe? ... wizarding socks with flashing Snitch designs? ... llama?-'

'It's a guanaco!'

'Shots!'

'Yes, shots!'

'Eighteen shots of Bleepsinthe! It's your birthday!'

July eyed her friends. 'What are the chances of me getting out of this?'

'Slim to none,' said Trojie. 'We will settle for you eating ... this entire chocolate cake!'

July looked at the birthday cake. It said 'Happy 18th July!' in urple icing. There was glitter.

'Is this cake made of Sue?'

'No!'

'Yes!'

Trojie and Pads glared at each other.

'Maybe,' said Library diplomatically.

July weighed up the odds of either horrific birthday tradition making her sick. The Bleepsinthe was a ... probably. The cake on the other hand, reeked of Sue Souffle, and would almost certainly make her sick. In fact, definitely. July then estimated the distance between herself and the door. Too far to run, and too many obstacles. She was surrounded by people with a vested interest in seeing her horribly embarrassed in the name of fun, several of whom were at least moderately good at a variety of combat disciplines, including Gaffer-Tape Tai Kwon Do, always useful for restraining fractious canon characters. This was not looking good at all, and she couldn't rely on her partner to help her, as Library appeared to have turned to the Dark Side.

'How about a compromise?'

No-one looked happy at this premise. Compromise reeked of 'no embarrassing Polaroids'.

'I will drink nine shots of Bleepsinthe and eat one slice of cake, which I will cut.'

'Ten shots and a piece of cake WE cut!' was the immediate riposte.

'Fine. Line 'em up.'

Ten shots of livid green Bleepsinthe and a slice of cake large enough to provision an Antarctic expedition for three weeks were placed with ceremony in front of the birthday girl.

July decided to eat the cake last, in the hopes that it would remove the taste of Bleepsinthe from her mouth. She figured it was a blessing that she wouldn't remember this in the morning.

'One!' Her so-called friends roared as she downed each shot.

'Two!'

'Three!'

'Four!'

'Five!'

'Six!'

'Seven!'

'Eight!'

'Nine!' Having downed the first eight shots in good time, mostly buoyed by adrenaline and paranoia, July made the mistake of pausing before the ninth. She swayed, gulping down the alcohol, and reached woozily for the tenth.

'TEN!'

'Cake! Cake! Cake!'

July shoved her hand into the cake (picking up the slice required more hand-eye coordination than she felt able to muster) and then shoved the cake into her mouth. It tasted of chocolate and glitter.

The next few minutes were a blur, but as she tripped over the guanaco and landed spread-eagled across its back, she distinctly heard the sound of a camera shutter. She looked up.

'Et tu, Library?'



FIN

Comments

[agenttrojie.livejournal.com]

I gather, then, that the essence of the PPC is forcing others to do what you say because you think it's best for them...

... actually, you're not far wrong there.

[sedri.livejournal.com]

Well, actually I was referring to the ingestion of ridiculous substances and the extremely unhelpful enthusiasm of others, but more or less, yes - although the Flowers don't make us go on missions because they think it's best for US. ;p

[agenttrojie.livejournal.com]

Unhelpful enthusiasm FTW!