Disclaimer: Connor's not mine. The War of 1812 and the War of Northern Aggression/U.S. Civil War aren't mine. Xan, Alex, and this silly story are mine. Enjoy!
Rated: PG-13 for playing with a lecturer's mind.
Oh, No! Not Another Learning Experience!
a.k.a., Another Damned ABC Piece....
"Zouaves?" Connor said in amazement and much too loudly for a public lecture, then grinned when Alex elbowed him in the side. "Yammering idiot has those units in the wrong war."
Xan smiled and shook his head, although he agreed with Connor. "Wouldn't bet he knew it, either," he answered, still grinning.
"Variety is the spice of life," Alex murmured speculatively. Under his appraising look, Xan only settled more comfortably into the lecture hall chair -- not quite preening.
"That's one word for it," Connor said with a chuckle, "but not the one I thought they were using this year."
"Ssshhh!" hissed another listener.
"Red alert, red alert," Xan muttered, adding in a bad Scottish accent, "my ears canna take the strain of this revisionary... twaddle."
"Quibbler," Alex answered, but he was already standing, completely unconcerned by the speaker still trying to mangle Southern history by putting a Civil War unit back fifty years. Pointed looks at Connor from Xan and Alex both got him moving, too, rather than ready to heckle the speaker any more, and it was unclear who would be more grateful to see the door close behind them, the immortals or the would-be historian.
"Oh my Gods," Xan complained more loudly. "No one should be allowed to book a hall who can't even get his unit names correct in a speech on military history."
"Meaning you want to get dinner?" Connor snickered, hearing Xan's stomach growl.
"Like you'd object?" Xan asked him, then pretended to duck back when Connor shook a fist at him in mock-indignation. "Kidding! Just kidding!"
"If you please, gentlemen, and even if you don't, some of us are trying to listen." His accent proclaimed him to be from somewhere far south of the Manhattan hall and despite his complaint, the stocky, graying black man looked more amused than irritated.
Grinning, Connor suggested, "Come on, come to dinner with us. Food's got to be better."
Eyebrows raised, the black man nonetheless grinned at them. "Damned if I'm not tempted," he drawled. "Can't do it, though, I'm afraid."
"But why not?" Alex asked, amused, too.
"A previous commitment here," the man answered with a sigh as he flashed them his press badge... and a quick glance at a page already listing inaccuracies in the speech.
"Zabaglione, here we come," Xan chuckled, his sweet tooth acting up as Alex told the reporter, "Zagreus couldn't make this interesting in either incarnation, sir; good luck," and both of them dragged Connor out before he could start any more trouble.
~ ~ ~ finis ~ ~ ~
Comments, commentary, and miscellanea:
Zouaves were troops in the French foreign legions, known for their colorful (or even gaudy) uniforms. Several Civil War units were also known as zouaves. Zabaglione is an Italian custard desert, I'm told, and Zagreus reincarnated as Dionysus, Greek god of wine and revelry.
Comments? Complaints? My military history is worse than the lecturers? You have creative uses for odd letters? Talk to me!
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