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This page last viewed: 2017-10-17 and has been viewed 991 times

Remember, Remember

By Mizhowlinmad (HBF) 2009

 

Rating: PG

Summary: Murdock is fully intent on a celebration, but there’s just one small thing he’s overlooked. Response to the ATSB Quick Pick “Incendiary.”

Warnings: None.

Disclaimer: The A-Team belongs to SJC and Universal. I’m just borrowing them out of the fire for fun and no profit whatsoever.

 

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            “Murdock?”

            The room was empty, silent. There was a big, ragged hole in the floor.

This couldn’t be good.

            Face could only pray that the Hogan’s Heroes inspiration hadn’t struck Murdock’s fevered mind twice in the same month. He knelt and peered down.

            “Murdock!”

            He heard his voice echo...”ock, ock.” From what he could see, it looked more like a secondhand Coal Miner’s Daughter set down there than the torn-up foundation of a VA hospital. Just darkness with the faintest glimmer of light, and the faraway strains of Murdock’s tenor singing voice.

            “Why’d I wear white today?” Only the turned-off arcade machines heard his muttered complaint. He lowered himself on the rope ladder attached firmly to Murdock’s bed. Down, down, into the abyss. His feet finally met solid ground.

            Without a flashlight, Face squinted into the near-perfect darkness. The singing grew louder. He followed it. Words took form.

Remember remember the fifth of November
Gunpowder, treason and plot.

“Uh, Murdock?” He felt his way along the narrow passageway. At the end, there was enough light to see, courtesy of the miner’s lamp atop his friend’s head. Face stopped in his tracks.

“Hey there, Faceman.” Murdock gave the quickest of nods. “You wanna grab those last few splinters behind you? Toss ‘em on?”

What Face hadn’t noticed was the heap of scrap wood before him, piled high, topped with a crudely made dummy made from bandages and wearing one of Murdock’s ragged t-shirts.

“New hiding place?”

“Nope.” Murdock fished in his pocket. “It’s a celebration, Face. Guy Fawkes Day.” He spoke reverently, but with a hint of glee underneath. “Got a light?”

Face blinked. “You’re going to burn all this?”

“I ain’t gonna use it to build a shed. C’mon, I know you got a match.”

“Murdock, you want to burn this place down? Are you nuts?”

He got one of Murdock’s patented Don’t call me nuts looks for his trouble. “To put it simply, Face, this is a very important observance. This is the only spot available for my purposes.”

“And this holiday involves setting things on fire?”

Yeppers.” Murdock pointed to the dummy. “And Rupert there gets it.”

“Rupert?”

“Well, that’s just what I’m callin’ him. He just don’t look like a ‘Guy’ to me.”

Face flung up his hands. “No, no, that’s not the point, Murdock. You can’t go, well, setting a bonfire underneath your room, in a building with hundreds of other people in it. It’s, um, not kosher.”

“It isn’t?” Murdock’s eyes widened.

“No. But if you want to set a bonfire, I’m sure B.A. could fix you up with something,” Face offered hurriedly.

“He’d do that?”

Face nodded. “I’m sure he would. We should probably get a move-on, you know, since we’re going to have to cover up this hole and everything.”

“Sounds like a plan, Faceman. As long as I get my bonfire.”

“Don’t forget Rupert.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Face started forward again, hesitated. “Murdock? Was there something in that song about the fifth of November?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Guy Fawkes Day, the fifth of November.” He beamed.

Face moaned. “Murdock, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s not the fifth of November. It’s the fifteenth of March.”

“Huh?” He dropped Rupert in surprise.

“Look, see?” Face pointed to his Rolex.

Murdock tapped a finger to his forehead, then groaned. “Dang. It’s that Avon lady’s fault. She didn’t send me a free calendar this year, and that always throws me off. Plus three years ago was a leap year, and…”

“Could we just get going? I thought I heard someone up there.”

“Okay.” Murdock picked up his dummy. As they both reached the ladder, he switched off his headlamp. “But, Face?”

“Huh?”

“If it’s the fifteenth of March, I don’t think this fella should be a Rupert at all. I think he looks more like a Julius.”

“Why Julius?”

“Beware the ides of March…”

Face could tell it was going to be a long day.

Fini

 


Remember, Remember by Mizhowlinmad

 

 


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