Never was much for sport.
I had always believed that a person should never run unless they were being chased. Unfortunately for me, that happens way to much for my own liking. It wasn't really a surprise at school, I didn't exactly fit in with the popular crowd. I was the one the popular kids went to when they needed homework doing. If you tried to refuse... well, let's just say they never left any marks on the parts of the body you could see.
Snarky comments also weren't encouraged. Or rewarded. At least that's one thing that has improved. Here, I know I can say what I like and people are not going to turn around and beat the shit out of me. Major Sheppard has this odd look in his eyes every now and then as if he's imagining it, but whenever I ask what he's thinking he just says; 'Something beautiful.'
Way to fill me with confidence about your leadership oh mighty leader. Okay, that was a lame comment. Could have thought of a better one. Should have really. Would have as well, if Carson hadn't given me so many drugs my brain feels as if it is trapped in some cheap thriller where the main suspense is the use of fog.
Any moment now, one of my poor helpless thoughts is going to turn around and be faced with some cheap looking evil creature. Possibly in the shape of Carson and a large needle. And then he'll stab my thought with the needle and it will fall down and there would be this mad laughter. Possibly my thoughts would eventually be saved by dancing hamsters but why they keep popping up in my mind, I don't know...
... what was I thinking?
Oh yes. Sport. Nasty thing sport. I never really watched it back on Earth. Didn't see the point to be honest. And when I was working in my lab I didn't do sport. I just never got it. Men running about with some sort of ball, kicking, hitting or throwing it. What's so exciting about that? Women netball on the other hand... that's not a sport, that's a dream.
I'm not good when it comes to sport. Running like hell away from the alien of the week that is trying to kill us may not sound like a sport in the strictest sense of the word – maybe to alien's it does... I bet they get a kick out of watching us run away like the cowards we are – but running is sport. I'm not cut out for sport.
Hence the foggy drugs, to combat the pain. Because I wasn't fast enough. I got hit. I never am fast enough. I may be the brightest man on the base – hey modesty is pointless. If you're good, say you're good. I'm the best. Best at what I do. Being clever. It's annoying but like music, sport is an art.
I wasn't lying when I said I had no grasp of art. I don't understand sport and I can never seem to run fast enough. Wait, did I already say that? Think that, whatever. It's true though. One of these days not being able to run fast enough is going to get someone killed. Either me or that idiot of a Major if he comes back for me.
Ouch.
Ouchy.
Damn, the pain killers must be wearing off. I can suddenly feel my body. It hurts! Why isn't Carson doing something? It's his job!
Why did I end up with a military idiot and a sadist doctor for friends?
Friends? ... okay, my brain must be more mushed up than I thought. They are my co-workers but friends?
Ohhhh.... Carson must have given me a new dose. Mmm... that's better... ahh... pain gone.
Friends...?
Okay, now my brain is annoying me. I'll ague with it later...
When I can think clearly...
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