Sat, May 19 2012
| TITLE: | You and Your Grand Ideas |
|---|---|
| AUTHOR: | Sherry Thornburg |
| CATEGORY/TYPE: | Humor |
| RATING/WARNINGS: | G, Gen, Tame |
| MAIN CHARACTERS: | The cast of SAJV. |
| DESCRIPTION: | |
| STATUS: | Complete |
It was just a minor miscalculation, Phileas was saying to himself as he picked up a pile of books from the corner of the Aurora's Parlor.
“You and your grand ideas,” Rebecca then complained from her side of the Aurora’s cabin. She was also picking up items that had been thrown about when they had had to make an emergency landing. Jules and Passepartout were upstairs cleaning up the workshop. Rebecca didn’t even want to think of what sort of mess they were dealing with. “You could have killed us all!”
“How was I supposed to know this would happen,” Phileas defended as he retrieved his sword and canes from the corner behind the chase. Thankfully, the furniture was bolted to the floor so there wasn’t the mess there could have been. In truth, Phileas knew that this was indeed his fault. He really should have known better. It just never occurred to him. And that was indeed his failing. But it didn’t help his pride any to know that and the failing was making him defensive.
“If I should have perceived this catastrophe then you should have too Rebecca,” he shot back. “I didn’t hear you make any suggestions toward a change in heading.”
“Oh Phileas! It is your ship!”
“That’s completely beside the point!”
Rebecca wanted to get into an is to/is not battle with him so bad she could taste it. It was all so frustrating. Not half an hour ago they had been the victims of a shore bombardment. Shells had been going off all around them and they had feared for both the Aurora’s air bag and their lives. It had been terrifying. Rockets blasting to the right and left and over and under them . . . sparks flying about everywhere. For all they had known the League had set up an ambush for them. They had landed as fast as they could in a field. Happy cows stood all around the airship now as they no longer felt threatened.
“Take a Yankee holiday, he said,” she fumed to herself under her breath. “Head to New York and take in a few plays. Maybe take a train ride to the Mississippi River and catch a leisurely ride down river to New Orleans. But in all that you never once considered what time of year it was . . .” she added louder, “of what the date would be when we arrived.”
“Independence Day!” She then shouted, turning her full fury on her cousin. “Next time try to remember that the Americans celebrate at least one holiday that we don’t!”
Upstairs, Jules and Passepartout had not started their cleaning yet. They had instead gone up to the observation deck to see the last of the fireworks. They were still going off all up and down the coast line. The two Frenchmen considered the spectacle an early Bastille Day celebration. In a sense, the two holidays were very similar.
Passepartout took up the bottle of wine that he kept in the workroom for his personal use. After pouring himself and Jules another round he clicked Jules’ glass and smiled to his companion and said, “Happy Independence day America!”