samandjack.net

Story Notes: Email: magratj@ozemail.com.au

Archieve: SJ and Helipolis

Notes: I came across the poem while looking up some poetry for my Year 9 class, and decided it was perfect for a sequal to what I just wrote. gain, feedback would be nice.

Dedication: For Nicole Keegan, who, despite having an exam tomorrow morning, was more than willing to sympathise with me, and listen to a good old fashioned rant. Good luck Nicole.


I couldn't believe the time had gone so fast. I was absolutely certain that she would have pulled out by now. But no, she's gone through with it. And now I have a wedding to go to. Yet another one of those damned things, where people look at me and think 'Poor Sam, still single'. I don't think for a moment they believe that I like it this way. And whay do I like it this way? It's easier. There are no major complications. Well, one, but it isn't the issue it would otherwise be. I answer to no one, and I make no sacrifices, save for myself. Ones that I a prepared to make.

"Cater?"

Damn. Colonel O'Neill has found me. He looks at me closely, and I can tell that he is asking if I am alright. I suppose I have been a little bit distant since I got the invitation. He walks over to my desk and picks it up.

"Ah," he says as a way of understanding. But he, like everyone else, has got it wrong. "Don't want to face the crowd, still single?" He can be perceptive when he wants to be.

"Well, it's a bit more complicated than that."

"Really?" He wants me to explain. In for a penny . . .

"It's more that I get annoyed they think I should be with someone, sir. I'm happy the way things are."

I can see this surprises him, although not much. I think he must have known that I was like that, but wasn't prepared for the full reality of it. He tries to turn the tone of the conversation. "You don't want Prince Charming to come and rescue you?" he smiles. I go to tell him that I can look after myself, thank you very much, but realise he knows that. Rather, I remember a poem from long ago, that another girlfriend had taught me. We had similar views on such things. Lokking at him, I recite it.

"Don't tell me again that one day Prince Charming will arrive. I remember all those fairy tales - Only too well. Who could take seriously Some guy who'd spend half his life Searching for thornless roses in the snow? Or traveling east of the sun and west of the moon? Or trying to climb glass mountains? His reward is to marry the fair princess (Whose opinion is never asked) ANd live happily ever after. But what about the princess? What's her reward? He gets to quaff mead with his cronies, Open Parliament, And show everyone the picture of the dragon's head. She gets to keep a drafty castle clean, Plan the banquets, Have the babies, And keep from screaming every time someone says, 'Is your husband the Prince Charming? You lucky girl!' Personally, I'd rather wait for Rumpelstiltskin. At least, he'll expect me to think."

He laughs as I finish. "Sam," he said, his eyes alight, "I just can't picture you planning a banquet."

I grinn back, realising that he, at least, doesn't expect me to settle for anything less than perfect. That he wouldn't let me, in fact.

"Tell you what," he suggests. "If you decide you can't go alone to the wedding, I'll go with you. You can say I'm a date, or just a friend, whichever you're comfortable with. How's that?"

I smile, grateful. "Thank's for the offer, sir. I may take you up on it."

"Just give me some warning, okay? I may have to get my tux cleaned."

"Will do."

"Anyway, I'm outta here. See you in the morning."

"Night sir."

He leaves me with my thoughts, and I suddeny realise that there is more than one type of knight in shining armour.



ta meg




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