Shepperd's Personal Diary 3
Third October Entry
by Elfkin
URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/ase/elfkin/diarys03.php
Summary: John tries to get comfotable with keeping a journal and now he's trying to ignore his penis
October 17th 2004 19:40 hours
Fuck me!!!
Or rather DON'T!
Of all the fucking insane things that could happen in this fucking insane galaxy...I have a thing for McKay. And isn't that just a kick in the ass! I'm a heterosexual male heading toward my mid 30's and suddenly my dick has decided it likes snarky, decidedly MALE scientists. What in fuck's name is that all about?
I tried getting back at him for drugging me. 'Cause I can't very well have my team members thinking they can drug me at any ole time they feel like it. Or something like that...
Anyway, I followed McKay around all week, just shadowing him. First, I started by sneaking up on him all the time, sometime about 2 days after he drugged me. I never did anything but watch him. I just sidled my way up to him at every chance and then waited silently until he noticed me. And you could see it crossing his face once he realized I was there, him wondering how long I had been there... contemplating that I could have, at any time, done anything to him. And TWANG! Every single damn time, the little Major would start vying for escape from the confines of my pants.
Why me!
I could go right now and tip Teyla over any horizontal surface in the city and have her squealing like a virgin on her wedding night. But Nooooooo. My dick has adopted a new McKay-friendly user policy.
I AM STRAIGHT! Let's just establish that now. My dick on the other hand, has defected to the ass munching side of the fence. It's not me, it's me derelict penis.
Right now I am keeping my sanity by telling myself that I need a small vacation. That perhaps some down time on a planet full of tall women with large breasts and no inhibitions would enable my malfunctioning shlong to get a reality check. In the spirit of this attempt to reclaim my wayward dick, I tried to ask Elizabeth if we had managed to catalog any Amazon planets. She immediately ordered me off to Carson to have blood work done. The woman is cruel.
Carson very nicely ask me what was wrong, since he could clearly see I didn't need blood work. I told him I'd pissed the Lizinator off. He about fell off his stool laughing. And when he'd managed to compose himself he asked that for my own sake I not call her by that within hearing distance of the woman herself.
Then he asked me how I'd managed to, quoting Beckett "Crank the hussy off.". I said I had tried to find a round-about, politic way to ask her if I could visit a planet full of easy women.
After he had composed himself yet again, Beckett asked why I didn't just team up with one of the gals here on Atlantis. He observed dryly that there were any number of them, Teyla included, that would literally jump at the opportunity.
I told him Teyla wasn't apparently my style cause while intellectually I can recognize she has the best hooters on the base, she doesn't get the ole engine roaring. Then Becket chuckled and suggested Weir. Then we both looked at each other and just...shivered.
"So no women on the base do it fer ya, Major?" I could tell Beckett was in 'talk to your Doctor, he can be your friend' mode.
"Yeah, so?"
"Tried any men?" Gah! He actually fucking said it!!!
"BECKETT! We are not having this conversation!" I was so not thankful to the Scottish perv for filling my mind with pictures of McKay, naked...horizontal on a lab table...squealing like a virgin on her wedding night.
I'm doomed!
"Really major, anal sex can be quite stimu..."
"LALALALALALA!!!" I plugged my ears with my fingers at this point. And of course fled the infirmary.
Why! Why must every one around me conspire to make me gay!
Okay, John. Be rational. Not everyone around you can be conspiring to make you one of them.
Of course now my ever so helpful psyche has popped up to say:
\Them?\
Yeah, you know. Them. The poor shmucks that have to hide under blanket regulations meant to ignore their presence so long as they are discreet. THEM.
\Oh, so you only use the term "them" to indicate the unfortunate minority. Not to infer "us" vs. "them".\
Would you shut up?
\Can't. I'm your very morally superior penis.\
I thought you were my psyche.
\Hello! You're a man. Your penis IS your psyche.\
Oh yeah.
I'm fucked. My very confused dick has been feeling me out on the issue of homosexuality in the military. Is there a rule that says introspection has to feel like a yearly physical done by someone with hands made of ice?
I am also competing with a growling stomach, cause lunch was a bust. I decided to escape planet of the liberal Doctor... to go sublimate my screwed up libido with food. Maybe Crysnbon would serve something truly awful that would totally eat a hole in me and then I wouldn't have to worry about impending Gaydom.
Only it just so happened that McKay was in the commissary eating. I got my tray of brown and white gravy-ish glop and sat down next to him. He looked nervous at first. I told him to relax, that vengeance and meals don't mix.
He asked me why.
I told him cause nothing could be more vengeful than letting him eat this crap. Friends don't let friends eat Army chow.
He just relieved and then shrugged. I on the other hand had to rein in rampaging pseudo-gay pecker about to bust buttons on pants.
I poked at my dinner long enough that Rodney eventually asked the eternal question..."You gonna eat that?"
"I might if I knew what it was."
"Shepherd's pie."
"I know it's mine but it's definitely not pie." I couldn't guess what it was actually.
"No, major, it's a dish called 'Shepherd's Pie'. Though Crysnbon really managed to make it more like 'Stuff-a-Shepherd-might-step-in Pie'."
I just snorted. At his point I was totally not hungry and I ended up just staring at McKay, watching him pull my plate over and dig in. He finally noticed I was watching him and insisted on me staring elsewhere while he ate. Cause it was creeping him out.
So I got up and took a great big shower hoping to relax myself and instead... my cock kept tuning my head into the Rodney Channel. A smut filled panorama of programs meant to trick me into thinking I'm queer as a two dollar bill. I looked mournfully down at my penis and told it firmly, "Knock it off. I'm not gay and we both know it. And even if I was, which I SO am Not...then McKay would not be my style. Peter would be."
My dick then quickly went "Ew!" and resumed its regularly scheduled programming of being not erect and totally uninterested in men.
So I am not gay. I am straight and possibly I swing Rodney, if he can be said to be a sexual orientation in and of himself. Which is weird cause not long ago, thinking of Rodney as sexual was as weird as thinking of Ford that way.
Then my dick took over my brain again...
\Rodney is not a sexual orientation. Rodney is a hottie.\
Gack! You crazy fucker! Quite sneaking shit like that into my head!
\snort You think with me, ergo I should have a say in who you think about.\
Fuck off!
\Only if a certain nummy scientist gets involved.\
Ha! I don't use words like nummy.
\Ah, but apparently your prick does... Nummynummynummy...\
I need a gun. I am going to shoot myself.
\Nope, you need lube. Cause you are gonna masturbate while thinking of Rodney.\
Am not.
\Are too.\
Not!
\Too.\
---
I just took my second shower. Post coital. I hate my penis. It's a big flaming Homo.
But I, am still a reasonable, sane, not yet avenged, non-conversing-with-your-gay-pecker, manly man who loves breasts and women and breasts, almost as much as I love football and nacho's.
\Tell it to someone who believes you.\
Gaaahhhh!!!
