"Famous Last Words".
Author: Paula Stiles

Rating: PG for Grisham language
Feedback: Always
Summary: Grisham says the wrong thing to Helm one too 
many times.
Disclaimers: Funnily enough, Fireworks still owns `em and 
I don't.

Trio #34 Challenge: bar of soap, wine bottle, latch-key  
*and* QUOTE 1: "Whatever is begun in anger ends in shame. 
" - Benjamin Franklin


FAMOUS LAST WORDS

     "Ow! Ow! Owww!" Grisham yelped as Dr. Helm dragged 
him outside to the horse trough near the soldiers' 
quarters. "Doc, leggo! That hurts!"

     "That's the point," Helm chided Grisham. Taking a 
firmer grip on Grisham's ear, he twisted. Grisham yelped 
even louder, scaring two nuns who had arrived in town 
just yesterday. They jumped back, eyes wide, from the 
horse trough where they had been getting water for their 
mules.

     "Hey!" Grisham yelled, as Helm patted him down and 
dug through his pockets. "Doc, we are *not* that close." 
Helm's search ended when he triumphantly held up a latch-
key.

     "Well, well, well," he said. "Look what we have 
here--the new key to my back door."

     "Shit," Grisham said, cringing inwardly. "Uh, look 
Doc, it's not what you think."

     "Oh, I doubt that," Helm retorted. "I've seen a good 
deal more of the world than you realize, Captain. So, 
young Maria Theresa *did* see somebody spying on her as 
she was changing her clothes in my examination room this 
morning. You have a very dirty mind, Grisham. I think it 
could use a good wash." Before Grisham realized what Helm 
was doing, the doctor had grabbed him by the back of his 
neck and shoved his head into the trough. Grisham nearly 
drowned on his own yell of protest.

     "Goddamnit, Doc, that's not funny!" he spluttered, 
when Helm let him back up.

     Helm clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Such 
language. I should wash your mouth out with soap but I 
don't have any--Oh, thank you, Sister Sarah," he said as 
one of the nuns, the short, pale one, scampered forward 
to press a bar of homemade soap into his hand. Helm 
favored her with a crooked smile that would have made an 
abbess abandon her convent. Both of the nuns giggled and 
simpered in response.

     "Don't even think about it, Do--AUGH!" With the same 
twisted smile that he'd bestowed on the nun (though it 
looked far more sinister to Grisham), Helm shoved the bar 
of soap into Grisham's mouth. The soap tasted, 
predictably, of smoky, rancid fat. Grisham gagged, and 
tried to yank free. Helm, however, still had hold of 
Grisham's ear. He twisted said ear cruelly, causing poor 
Grisham to sink to his knees next to the tub.

     "I should make you eat the whole thing," Helm said 
cheerfully. He looked over at the nuns. "What do you 
think, Sisters?"

    "Dunk 'im." They passed judgment in unison--then 
crossed themselves. In unison.

    Helm grinned down at Grisham. He was obviously having 
the best day of his lousy, miserable week. "What about 
you, Captain? What do you think? The soap or a bath?"

     Grisham glared up at Helm, then reluctantly spit out 
the soap.

     "Fair enough," Helm said. Hauling Grisham to his 
feet, he tipped him over into the trough. As Helm threw 
him in, the Englishman finally let go of Grisham's ear. 
Grisham floundered around, splashing slimy water all over 
the place. He noted sourly that Helm had jumped back 
before any could get on him. At least he kept his head 
above the water this time, and managed not to swallow any 
more horse slobber.

     "I'll get you for this, you bastard," he snarled at 
Helm, who was now being congratulated by the nuns on an 
exorcism well done.

     "Now, now, Captain," Helm scolded him. "Remember 
what your countryman, Benjamin Franklin, always said: 
'Whatever is begun in anger ends in shame.'" He pocketed 
the latchkey. "Please try to remember that the next time 
you treat my office as your personal brothel."

     For a brief moment, Grisham thought he might get a 
shot at Helm's retreating back. No such luck. As Helm 
backed away, the two nuns closed in on either side of him 
like anxious sheepdogs. Grisham knew better than to 
splash them. There was Hell, and then there was Hell for 
guys who crossed nuns--even if the water was now getting 
into his boots. Grimly, he watched his enemy turn and 
leave the field triumphant and unscathed.

     "Oh, Doctor," Sister Sarah simpered as the three of 
them walked away. "Perhaps you could join Sister 
Bernadette and I for lunch. We have a lovely bottle of 
dessert wine from Valencia that you really must try."

     "Why, thank you, Sister. I'd be honored to share 
your meal," Helm purred. Just as nuns and doctor passed 
out of earshot, Grisham heard the two sisters giggle. In 
unison.

END
    

     

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