The Ballad Of…

Part One

By Xasphie (with interruptions by QS)



WARNING: I think someone spiked my coffee

DISCLAIMERS: Not mine, wish they were

STATUS: Complete


Originally posted to the SA List January 2004


I woke up with a headache, but I stumbled out of bed,
The room then started lurching and I wished that I was dead.

I had to teach at 9:15 and needed to prepare
But Jim had used up all the milk and really didn't care.

So caffeine-free I had my shower, and dripped all on the floor,
The towel was soaked, my razor blunt, got foam all down the door.

I crawled into the Volvo, threw my backpack in the rear,
Then realized I'd thrown the bag on Jim's warm crate of beer;

The crate that I'd forgotten in my mad rush yesterday,
And now had all exploded in the heat, to my dismay.

The time was ticking forwards and I so was running late,
I glossed over the disaster, of last night's ruined date.

My hangover was palpable as was my lack of thought,
But somehow lived until the break; my classes badly taught.

My cellphone started ringing as I tried to rest my eyes,
It seems that I was wanted by my Sentinel so wise.

He couldn't find the folder in the program I had run,
And now his Captain wanted all the write ups I had done.

I gave up work at Rainier to get to CPD,
The car broke down, the cellphone died, I got there after three.

Jim yelled at me for being late, then set me straight to work,
I found the files and printed them, I'm just an office clerk.

He hauled me out to Harbor Point, but didn't buy me lunch,
The Tylenol had no effect, the headache packed a punch.

But not as hard as someone's fist, I noticed as I fell,
And followed up by being shot, my day had gone to hell.

The ride inside the ambulance made me extremely ill,
But oxygen was pleasant and the pain meds better still.

The hospital was crowded and the doctors rushed around,
They didn't even notice when my gurney hit the ground.

The resulting blurred concussion then came as no surprise,
But I was stunned when I awoke as there before my eyes,
Was not just one great Sentinel of the City of Cascade,
But two or more were dancing round the bed where I was laid.

I half expected Taggert in a tutu to appear,
Or Rafe and Brown to wander in, with Jim's exploded beer.

Eventually they let me go, with promises to rest,
But when the truck ran off the road I knew I'd done my best.

And once again I opened eyes to see Joel dressed in pink
With Simon and he holding hands - I think I'll blame the drink.

The many lacerations gave my skin a lovely hue,
But I knew I was better off, than Jim in ICU.

A week went by, we were released and ordered home to heal,
But who'd have thought a kidnapper would interrupt our meal.

He burst in through the skylight and fell headlong in the eggs
While I skidded in the bacon, and fractured both my legs.

Another month in hospital became a waste of time,
I'm sick to death of being bashed, I think it's such a crime.

I'm lying here in traction, with an icepack on my head,
I hear that Daniel Jackson needs some whumping now instead.

As Daniel raced along the track, the Tok'ra far ahead,
He knew if Jaffa warriors were to catch him he'd be dead.

The staff weapons discharged their fire, the ground around him burned,
His ankle snapped, his hat came off, he crumpled as he turned.

O'Neill had made it to the 'Gate, and Sam was dialing home,
Where was that archaeologist, the one who liked to roam?

As Daniel opened bleary eyes the pain became intense,
The burning from the hand device was robbing him of sense.

He hoped that Jack would rescue him, like every other time,
Before he could be tortured by a goa'uld's First Prime.

But no, the blackness pressured in, he felt the weapon's blast,
His shoulder gave, the blood poured out, his life was fading fast.

"A mega-whump," he pondered, "But I guess I'll never learn.
"I'm going to kill Blair Sandburg, cos I thought it was his turn."


"My name is Daniel Jackson and I'd like to speak to Blair,
So what if he's in hospital, you really think I care?

Just tell him that I'm back in town, and Teal'c's as mad as hell,
He's giving back Joel's tutu – 'cause it's got a rancid smell.

I've got some major issues and I want this feud to halt,
I'm getting stabbed, hit, beaten, shot - it's clearly all his fault.

I last got whumped when ambushed, and the set-up was a fluke,
Just like when Jack was kissing Sam; it made me want to puke.

It knocked my concentration and the author thought it funny,
To have it rain on my escape and make the mud all runny.

My side weapon discharged itself, the bullet hit the mountain
Which caused a massive avalanche, and I fell in the fountain.

The fountain dematerialized until I re-emersed,
I could have drowned but copyright has proof he did that first.

Blair thinks a sarcophagus can ease the hurt inflicted,
But he's not seen the episode, where I became addicted.

Okay I'll call and see him when he's had the x-ray done,
I thought that when he's better, some hang-gliding might be fun."


"I'd like to speak to Daniel, I don't care if he's offworld,
Need to talk about the insults and the vitriol he hurled.

Was it my fault that he ended up with 'Whump Me' on his back?
You can blame the sign that got him shot, on his best friend Jack.

And Joel is pretty mad, the tutu's looking real pathetic,
You'd expect an ex First-Prime to be a little more athletic.

How did he get those blood and coffee stains across the chest?
Don't the Air Force issue all teams with a kevlar vest?

I'll have to check with Jim on that, course he's not very happy,
Being down with chicken pox at his age makes him snappy."


The whumped heroes agreed to meet, to settle all their woes,
The riot and three burglaries still kept them on their toes.

They met at last at Prospect, while the building next door burned,
They conversed over oolong tea, discussing lessons learned.

"You went through 4 whole seasons and you didn't cut your hair?
I gave mine up on Season 3, now do you think that's fair?"

Indignant though he seemed to be, the peace was drawing near,
They started chatting amiably, and started on Jim's beer.

"I hear you died one episode; I'm always doing that -
One day they'll shut the iris on me, then I will go splat.

Fox  Mulder called on Thursday night and wonders if you've got,
The emails for the authors as it's their turn to be shot.

As Mulder said, it's not our fault, these writers are to blame,
Let's call a truce, let's track them down - and send each one a flame."

So Sandburg and friend Daniel both agreed to call it quits,
They climbed into Blair's Volvo which was prompty blown to bits.



copyright Xasphie 4th January 2004