|The Predator meets his match
||[Feb. 9th, 2006|01:45 pm]
You know all those X vs Predator comics? You know how (with the possible exception of the original Alien vs Predator) they're all exactly the same? I think the Predator ought to test himself against a real opponent, one who could offer more of a challenge than mere musculature. That's right, I'm talking about Jeeves vs Predator.
"I find in cases like these it is necessary to consider the psychology of the individual, sir. It has been my experience that a passion for the hunting field experienced as a youth is often much diminished on entering into a state of marriage."
The old bean swum somewhat, but I grasped the point.
"You mean like my Aunt Dahlia? A fixture with the Quorn and Pytchley in her younger days, but put aside childish things when she married Uncle Tom?"
"Precisely, sir. The only difficulty lay in finding a suitable choice of mate."
"Egad, Jeeves! You don't mean - "
"If you would care to look at this morning's Times, sir..."
I grabbed for the periodical. It took me a while to spot the relevant piece, but there it was:
Engagements: The engagement is announced between Miss Honoria Glossop, only daughter of Sir Roderick and Lady Glossop, and Honoured Y'ghloushgdk of the Yautja, Duke of the Outer Planets, Commander of the Betelgeusian Fleet, etc, etc."Good Lord, Jeeves! Honoria Glossop's engaged to the Predator?"
"Precisely, sir. Given his extensive connections among the Yautja aristocracy, there was little difficulty in persuading Sir Roderick and Lady Glossop to give their consent to the match. If I might be permitted the expression, sir, they are not so much losing a daughter as gaining a horribly beweaponed homicidal alien killing machine."
"Sounds like he'll fit right in at Glossop family get-togethers. But what's this about aristocratic connections, Jeeves?"
"I was eventually able to translate the book we recovered from His Grace's spacecraft, sir. It was not, as you supposed, a flight manual, but rather the Yautja version of Debrett's. His Grace's entry ran to fully eleven pages, sir."
"Good Lord. And what does the Pred - His Grace think of all this?"
"I believe His Grace had little say in the matter, sir; as you have had cause to observe, Miss Glossop has a somewhat forceful personality."
I sighed. It was a wrench, but dash it, the fellow had just saved half of London from grisly annihilation.
"Those vermillion silk shirts of mine. You really don't like them?"
"Very well. You may dispose of them. Burn them, give them to the deserving poor, do with them as you wish."
"Thank you, sir. I have already taken the liberty of tearing them up to provide bandages for the wounded."
Needless to say, there's already a Wodehouse slashfic community on LJ, by the name of indeedsir. I may write the whole thing and post it. Or not. Yes, I think not.