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Disclaimer: The characters of Jarod, Miss Parker, Sydney, and Broots were purchased at a liquidation sale in Hackensack, New Jersey... but seriously folks, they are the property of Craig and Steve and whoever else is claiming them these days. As far as the characters of John Steed and Emma Peel are concerned, well, your guess is as good as mine. No money is changing hands here and no infringement is intended.
Author's Note: This MINOR diversion was inspired by one of my main muses, a Miss P. in her own right. Totally righteous babe that she is, she sent me a cool picture of John Steed and Emma Peel a few weeks back, noting the striking resemblance between Mrs. P and Miss P. And, true enough, the resemblance goes beyond style and comportment: they really do resemble each other physically. I grew up wanting to be Emma Peel so I guess it only stands to reason that I'd develop such a strong affinity for Miss Parker. (Note to P: Consider this a little gift from me to you. Thanks for EVERYTHING:-)
Mrs. P. and Miss P.
By Ginger
The television had been on all night but only as background noise as Jarod labored away at his laptop, using a break between pretends to try to warm the ice-cold trail leading back to his family. It was a few minutes after three a.m. when he looked away from the computer screen for the first time in nearly six hours and rubbed his eyes. Glancing over at the television set, something caught his eye and he swiveled in his chair to give it his full attention. He grabbed the remote and raised the volume and, after a few moments, a smile appeared on his lips and he emitted a small, gleeful chuckle. He remained glued to the set for the next hour.
* * * *
"This is Sydney."
"Are you familiar with the television show from the 1960s called 'The Avengers?'"
"Hello, Jarod. It's good to hear from you. I didn't have much time for television in those days but, yes, I am familiar with the show. I do believe it was very popular in its day."
"Well, I can see why. It's great. I've watched a lot of television since I've been out and haven't found much worthy of giving a second look. But this show is just so... I don't know, entertaining, I guess."
"I am happy to hear that you are allowing yourself the occasional diversion, that you are willing to give your mind a rest and just enjoy yourself a little."
"That's the problem. It became more than a diversion for a while there. I'd seek it out wherever I went and in many areas it's on in the middle of the night, if at all. I even resorted to going on the Internet to check out the fan sites and listservs dedicated to the show."
"I would advise you to exercise extreme caution here, Jarod. I have a colleague who now specializes in the emerging field of Internet addiction. He tells me that people involved in these virtual communities that have sprung up around television programs - I believe 'fandom' is the commonly used term to describe this phenomenon - tend to be borderline personalities who also commonly suffer obsessive/compulsive disorders. If untreated, disabilities like these can force one into such an empty, lonely existence that he or she is compelled to spend inordinate amounts of time inhabiting a fantasy world of their own creation."
"Yes, I see that now. I actually read a few stories some of these unfortunate people have written based on the characters and storyline of the show and, let me put it this way, one wouldn't want to encounter any of these people in a dark alley. Not to worry, Sydney, I've learned to curb my addiction, but I still do enjoy the show when the opportunity presents itself."
"What about it so appeals to you?"
"Well..." Jarod blushed and unconsciously lowered his voice. "Truth be told, it's the female protagonist. She's spectacular... any man's dream."
"Hmmm..."
"What is it, Sydney?"
"From what I do remember of the show, she was a rather strong female character. There are men out there who find strong women to be intimidating." Sydney turned his head slightly to glance through the plexiglass wall at Broots, who was twitching nervously and typing anxiously at a computer as Parker hovered over him.
"Okay, so maybe I'm being presumptuous in calling her any man's dream. But I have never before felt such an affinity for a fictional character: a tall, sleek, beautiful brunette, extremely bright with a razor sharp wit, full of confidence and not afraid to take on anyone when she feels it's necessary. To me, she's the embodiment of woman... Sydney... Are you alright?"
Clearing his throat, Sydney replied, "Oh, yes, just a little cough that's all... remnants of a cold I had a few weeks back. Do continue, Jarod."
"I especially like it when Steed calls her by her formal name, rather than her first name. I do believe it lends an air of regality she so richly deserves: Miss Peel."
Sydney looked up again to find Miss Parker staring at him through the glass wall, her arms folded at her chest. She arched one eyebrow, perfectly, the faintest hint of a smile gracing her lips. She was wearing a beautifully tailored blue coatdress and it set off her eyes magnificently. He thought fleetingly of her mother. He gave a small shrug, his smile widening as he held her gaze and spoke softly into the phone,
"I believe it was MRS. Peel, wasn't it, Jarod?"
"Oh, yes, of course! My m... mistake..." His voice trailed off as he became lost in thought.
"Are you still there, Jarod?"
"Y... yes, I'm here..." He hesitated.
"Is there something else I can help you with?"
"Well, I was wondering... Do you have any idea where I might find a bowler hat?"
"As a matter of fact, I do," Sydney beamed.
* * * *
Drink in hand, a silk-pajama clad Miss Parker padded into her bedroom and opened her closet door. Setting the drink aside, she dug inside the closet, cursing under her breath as she struggled to unearth the item she sought. Finally, she pulled out the small, battered hatbox and set it down next to her drink then opened it. She grinned as she lifted the bowler out of the box and held it up in front of her.
She lowered her arms with a heavy sigh and frowned as she pondered Sydney's peculiar behavior. They had played their usual game: she had let him have some protected time with his lab rat. She always knew when it was Jarod on the other end of the line. She could see it in Sydney's eyes: the concern, the affection, and the pride. They had played the rest of the game too, after she and Broots finished up in the computer lab, the part in which she goes through the motions of grilling him about Jarod's state-of-mind, clues to his possible whereabouts... yadda... yadda... yadda... Only, this time, Sydney had been especially enigmatic in his responses, yet he didn't show any signs of anxiety, and was in a better than usual mood for the rest of the day. Strange, she thought, furrowing her brow. They better not be up to something. If Sydney ever made her regret extending him that small kindness, then she would make him, and his little trained monkey, pay.
She shrugged and took a sip of her drink, concluding that she'd had enough of work for one day. Then she walked over to the full-length mirror and contemplated the hat again, biting her lip and giggling softly before piling her hair up on her head and slipping it on. She wondered why Syd had brought it up today; she hadn't dusted the old thing off in ages. One night, when they were in some cheesy hotel bar in some hellhole in the middle of nowhere that Jarod had led them to, Parker had mentioned her college semester in London and how much she had enjoyed it. Something had made her confess to him that, in those days, she would go around town wearing an old bowler hat she'd purchased in a second hand store. It was after that she had resolved to limit herself to two drinks around Sydney.
Parker inspected her appearance self-consciously, almost guiltily, at first but soon relaxed. She wondered if she could discern any trace of that girl in London and began to recall all the fun she'd had: her fabulous pals in the dorm and the guys, so many of whom found both the bowler and her to be completely irresistible. Before she knew what she was doing, she was bowing, tipping her hat and saying, in an exaggerated British accent,
"Chaaaamd, I'm shaaaa!"
She chuckled, glancing down a moment and shaking her head before gazing back at her reflection. She immediately caught sight of something behind her and spun violently around.
"What the hell are YOU doing here?" Parker demanded as she yanked the hat off her head, her hair spilling down onto her shoulders.
She couldn't believe that HE had just seen her like that. He'd have a field day. It was BEYOND humiliating. And, yet, the look in his eyes was far from mocking. She clutched the bowler to her chest in a defensive posture and swallowed hard, as she silently chided herself for the butterflies now fluttering in her stomach. She took a deep breath and demanded a second time,
"Answer m... me, Jarod, what the hell do you think you're doing?"
Her voice wavered ever so slightly and, upon hearing this, a small smile appeared on Jarod's lips. He began to walk slowly across the room toward her.
She took one step back, then another, but soon had her back to the mirror, jumping slightly when she made contact with it. He chuckled softly; she whimpered.
"What you did there in the mirror, a few moments ago, that was SO cute," he remarked in a low voice as he approached. His words didn't contain even the slightest hint of sarcasm and that fact alone made her spine tingle.
When he reached her, he placed his hands on the wall on either side of her body.
"What are you doing?" she repeated, her voice now a mere whisper.
Glancing down at the bowler then back into her eyes, he responded evenly, "What John Steed should have done thirty years ago."
Parker just stared at him for a time, bewildered, then looked down at the hat she still clutched to her like a life preserver. It came to her and she met his eyes again.
"But Emma Peel was married!" she challenged, noting the absurdity, at a time like that or any other time for that matter, of discussing the love lives of fictional TV characters as if they were people she knew.
"Indeed," Jarod replied with a sigh then continued, "She was MRS. Peel but YOU, my dear..." He slipped the hat out of her hands and tossed it aside.
"YOU are MISS Parker."
# # # #
A Final Note: I sincerely hope that no one took offense to Jarod and Sydney's conversation about fandoms or Miss Parker's thoughts about the love lives of fictional characters. It was all intended as a harmless exercise in SELF-parody, nothing more. G;-)
Author's Note: This MINOR diversion was inspired by one of my main muses, a Miss P. in her own right. Totally righteous babe that she is, she sent me a cool picture of John Steed and Emma Peel a few weeks back, noting the striking resemblance between Mrs. P and Miss P. And, true enough, the resemblance goes beyond style and comportment: they really do resemble each other physically. I grew up wanting to be Emma Peel so I guess it only stands to reason that I'd develop such a strong affinity for Miss Parker. (Note to P: Consider this a little gift from me to you. Thanks for EVERYTHING:-)
Mrs. P. and Miss P.
By Ginger
The television had been on all night but only as background noise as Jarod labored away at his laptop, using a break between pretends to try to warm the ice-cold trail leading back to his family. It was a few minutes after three a.m. when he looked away from the computer screen for the first time in nearly six hours and rubbed his eyes. Glancing over at the television set, something caught his eye and he swiveled in his chair to give it his full attention. He grabbed the remote and raised the volume and, after a few moments, a smile appeared on his lips and he emitted a small, gleeful chuckle. He remained glued to the set for the next hour.
* * * *
"This is Sydney."
"Are you familiar with the television show from the 1960s called 'The Avengers?'"
"Hello, Jarod. It's good to hear from you. I didn't have much time for television in those days but, yes, I am familiar with the show. I do believe it was very popular in its day."
"Well, I can see why. It's great. I've watched a lot of television since I've been out and haven't found much worthy of giving a second look. But this show is just so... I don't know, entertaining, I guess."
"I am happy to hear that you are allowing yourself the occasional diversion, that you are willing to give your mind a rest and just enjoy yourself a little."
"That's the problem. It became more than a diversion for a while there. I'd seek it out wherever I went and in many areas it's on in the middle of the night, if at all. I even resorted to going on the Internet to check out the fan sites and listservs dedicated to the show."
"I would advise you to exercise extreme caution here, Jarod. I have a colleague who now specializes in the emerging field of Internet addiction. He tells me that people involved in these virtual communities that have sprung up around television programs - I believe 'fandom' is the commonly used term to describe this phenomenon - tend to be borderline personalities who also commonly suffer obsessive/compulsive disorders. If untreated, disabilities like these can force one into such an empty, lonely existence that he or she is compelled to spend inordinate amounts of time inhabiting a fantasy world of their own creation."
"Yes, I see that now. I actually read a few stories some of these unfortunate people have written based on the characters and storyline of the show and, let me put it this way, one wouldn't want to encounter any of these people in a dark alley. Not to worry, Sydney, I've learned to curb my addiction, but I still do enjoy the show when the opportunity presents itself."
"What about it so appeals to you?"
"Well..." Jarod blushed and unconsciously lowered his voice. "Truth be told, it's the female protagonist. She's spectacular... any man's dream."
"Hmmm..."
"What is it, Sydney?"
"From what I do remember of the show, she was a rather strong female character. There are men out there who find strong women to be intimidating." Sydney turned his head slightly to glance through the plexiglass wall at Broots, who was twitching nervously and typing anxiously at a computer as Parker hovered over him.
"Okay, so maybe I'm being presumptuous in calling her any man's dream. But I have never before felt such an affinity for a fictional character: a tall, sleek, beautiful brunette, extremely bright with a razor sharp wit, full of confidence and not afraid to take on anyone when she feels it's necessary. To me, she's the embodiment of woman... Sydney... Are you alright?"
Clearing his throat, Sydney replied, "Oh, yes, just a little cough that's all... remnants of a cold I had a few weeks back. Do continue, Jarod."
"I especially like it when Steed calls her by her formal name, rather than her first name. I do believe it lends an air of regality she so richly deserves: Miss Peel."
Sydney looked up again to find Miss Parker staring at him through the glass wall, her arms folded at her chest. She arched one eyebrow, perfectly, the faintest hint of a smile gracing her lips. She was wearing a beautifully tailored blue coatdress and it set off her eyes magnificently. He thought fleetingly of her mother. He gave a small shrug, his smile widening as he held her gaze and spoke softly into the phone,
"I believe it was MRS. Peel, wasn't it, Jarod?"
"Oh, yes, of course! My m... mistake..." His voice trailed off as he became lost in thought.
"Are you still there, Jarod?"
"Y... yes, I'm here..." He hesitated.
"Is there something else I can help you with?"
"Well, I was wondering... Do you have any idea where I might find a bowler hat?"
"As a matter of fact, I do," Sydney beamed.
* * * *
Drink in hand, a silk-pajama clad Miss Parker padded into her bedroom and opened her closet door. Setting the drink aside, she dug inside the closet, cursing under her breath as she struggled to unearth the item she sought. Finally, she pulled out the small, battered hatbox and set it down next to her drink then opened it. She grinned as she lifted the bowler out of the box and held it up in front of her.
She lowered her arms with a heavy sigh and frowned as she pondered Sydney's peculiar behavior. They had played their usual game: she had let him have some protected time with his lab rat. She always knew when it was Jarod on the other end of the line. She could see it in Sydney's eyes: the concern, the affection, and the pride. They had played the rest of the game too, after she and Broots finished up in the computer lab, the part in which she goes through the motions of grilling him about Jarod's state-of-mind, clues to his possible whereabouts... yadda... yadda... yadda... Only, this time, Sydney had been especially enigmatic in his responses, yet he didn't show any signs of anxiety, and was in a better than usual mood for the rest of the day. Strange, she thought, furrowing her brow. They better not be up to something. If Sydney ever made her regret extending him that small kindness, then she would make him, and his little trained monkey, pay.
She shrugged and took a sip of her drink, concluding that she'd had enough of work for one day. Then she walked over to the full-length mirror and contemplated the hat again, biting her lip and giggling softly before piling her hair up on her head and slipping it on. She wondered why Syd had brought it up today; she hadn't dusted the old thing off in ages. One night, when they were in some cheesy hotel bar in some hellhole in the middle of nowhere that Jarod had led them to, Parker had mentioned her college semester in London and how much she had enjoyed it. Something had made her confess to him that, in those days, she would go around town wearing an old bowler hat she'd purchased in a second hand store. It was after that she had resolved to limit herself to two drinks around Sydney.
Parker inspected her appearance self-consciously, almost guiltily, at first but soon relaxed. She wondered if she could discern any trace of that girl in London and began to recall all the fun she'd had: her fabulous pals in the dorm and the guys, so many of whom found both the bowler and her to be completely irresistible. Before she knew what she was doing, she was bowing, tipping her hat and saying, in an exaggerated British accent,
"Chaaaamd, I'm shaaaa!"
She chuckled, glancing down a moment and shaking her head before gazing back at her reflection. She immediately caught sight of something behind her and spun violently around.
"What the hell are YOU doing here?" Parker demanded as she yanked the hat off her head, her hair spilling down onto her shoulders.
She couldn't believe that HE had just seen her like that. He'd have a field day. It was BEYOND humiliating. And, yet, the look in his eyes was far from mocking. She clutched the bowler to her chest in a defensive posture and swallowed hard, as she silently chided herself for the butterflies now fluttering in her stomach. She took a deep breath and demanded a second time,
"Answer m... me, Jarod, what the hell do you think you're doing?"
Her voice wavered ever so slightly and, upon hearing this, a small smile appeared on Jarod's lips. He began to walk slowly across the room toward her.
She took one step back, then another, but soon had her back to the mirror, jumping slightly when she made contact with it. He chuckled softly; she whimpered.
"What you did there in the mirror, a few moments ago, that was SO cute," he remarked in a low voice as he approached. His words didn't contain even the slightest hint of sarcasm and that fact alone made her spine tingle.
When he reached her, he placed his hands on the wall on either side of her body.
"What are you doing?" she repeated, her voice now a mere whisper.
Glancing down at the bowler then back into her eyes, he responded evenly, "What John Steed should have done thirty years ago."
Parker just stared at him for a time, bewildered, then looked down at the hat she still clutched to her like a life preserver. It came to her and she met his eyes again.
"But Emma Peel was married!" she challenged, noting the absurdity, at a time like that or any other time for that matter, of discussing the love lives of fictional TV characters as if they were people she knew.
"Indeed," Jarod replied with a sigh then continued, "She was MRS. Peel but YOU, my dear..." He slipped the hat out of her hands and tossed it aside.
"YOU are MISS Parker."
# # # #
A Final Note: I sincerely hope that no one took offense to Jarod and Sydney's conversation about fandoms or Miss Parker's thoughts about the love lives of fictional characters. It was all intended as a harmless exercise in SELF-parody, nothing more. G;-)
