Actions

Work Header

Sharks Are Wild

Work Text:

TITLE: Sharks Are Wild

AUTHOR: Tiffany Park

STATUS: Complete

CATEGORY:   Humor, crossover, definitely AU

SPOILERS: None for Stargate, big ones for Peter Benchley's Creature

SEASON: Does anyone really care? Makepeace is around, that's all that matters!

PAIRINGS: None

RATING:   PG-13

CONTENT WARNINGS: Language, character death. Nothing serious to fret about. Really. *BEG*

SUMMARY: Colonel Makepeace versus the landshark! Sort of a crossover with Saturday Night Live's Landshark skits. Eh, who am I kidding? I admit it: it's a complete ripoff. Also, there's a really bizarre kinda-but-not-quite-crossover-like thing going on with the movie "Peter Benchley's Creature." And there's a cheap reference to Space Ghost Coast to Coast's version of a landshark as well, swiped directly from the episode "Kentucky Nightmare."

ARCHIVE: Hah! Good one.

DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. Peter Benchley's Creature belongs to Peter Benchley, MGM Television, and Trilogy Entertainment Group. The doorbell-ringing landshark concept and skit format belong to Saturday Night Live, NBC Productions, and Broadway Video. Blame for Space Ghost Coast to Coast and its version of the landshark should be directed at the Cartoon Channel, Ghost Planet Industries, Williams Street, and possibly even Hanna-Barbera Productions for creating the Space Ghost character in the first place. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:   Jokes about that stupid landshark have been stuck in my head and interfering with progress on More Important Things, so I was compelled to get the silly shark stuff out of my system. This is the sad result. It will help to be familiar with SNL's old landshark skits from the Chevy Chase era. It also helps to know that actor Steve Makaj played both Colonel Makepeace on Stargate SG-1, and SEAL Team Leader Taylor in "Peter Benchley's Creature" (the shark-monster movie).

 

July 22, 2015: Here's another fic from the Hoary and Not-So-Venerable Vault of Yesteryear. November of 2002, to be specific. This one was written as kind of meta for a list discussion, so it will probably be just plain bizarre. I hadn't really planned on posting this embarrassment publicly, but tonight's premiere of "Sharknado 3: Oh Hell No!" seemed to demand some serious goofiness and, well, sharky weirdness. Enjoy!

 


 

 

Sharks Are Wild


by
Tiffany Park

 

 

It was Saturday night, and for once SG-3 didn't have to be anywhere on Sunday. Since no one on the team had anything better to do—or as Johnson so charmingly put it, "None of us have lives"—the four Marines decided to get together and make a night of it—in the spirit of team-building, of course. And so, with that laudable goal in mind, they went out and indulged in some serious partying.

After wasting way too much money on booze and strippers, SG-3 picked up a couple of pizzas and a case of beer, and moved on to Sergeant Smith's home for a friendly game of poker.

Smith's place was a two-bedroom apartment, with a tiny kitchen and a separate dining area attached to the living room. The men gathered around the table in the dining area and dug into the pizza. As Smith located his cards in a kitchen drawer, he asked, "Can someone find something watchable on the tube?"

Makepeace picked up the remote and switched on the TV. Because it was well after midnight, he had to flip through innumerable channels of infomercials before he finally happened upon a late-night creature feature that was already running. "Whaddaya guys think about this?" he asked.

"Looks fine, sir," Jones said, taking a sip from his beer bottle.

Smith said, "Check it out: Craig T. Nelson's in this movie." He started to shuffle the deck of cards.

"Cool. I used to love 'Coach'."

Johnson said, "There's Kim Cattrall. She's hot."

"Isn't she that outrageous chick on 'Sex and the City'?" Makepeace asked.

"Yeah, that's her." Johnson practically drooled. "She can sexually harass me anytime she wants."

Suddenly, a news flash came on, preempting the movie. All four Marines booed as the TV displayed a professionally coifed and lacquered anchorwoman sitting behind a desk and wearing a distinctly humorless expression on her face.

The newswoman held a paper in her hands, but looked directly into the camera. "Good morning. This is a KLSD emergency news break. Police are requesting that citizens of Colorado Springs continue to remain on alert for the landshark. For those of you just tuning in, a landshark is terrorizing the city and has already consumed several members of the local community. Apparently, this creature is a Great White shark that has acquired the ability to breathe air and move around on land. Scientists have been unable to explain this, nor do they have any idea how the landshark managed to travel so far inland. The landshark is highly intelligent and has been described by eyewitnesses as 'tricky.' Citizens are warned that it is capable of incredible feats of deception and treachery in its pursuit of its victims."

The newswoman looked grim and continued, "Police request that citizens remain in their homes, keep doors and windows locked, and report any suspicious activity. I repeat, stay in your homes and keep your doors and windows locked. We will continue to follow this amazing story as it unfolds, and provide you with current and breaking information until the landshark situation is resolved."

The station cut to a splash screen, and a generic-sounding voice announced, "We now resume our regular programming, still in progress." The movie came back on in the middle of a scene showing some guy getting chased through the water by a very large, very ugly shark.

Looking befuddled, Johnson asked, "Was that part of the movie or just a weird coincidence?"

"Sounds like a stupid hoax to me," Smith commented. "Bet they're just juicing up their ratings."

"At this hour?"

The other Marines shrugged, not terribly interested in the perversity of TV sensationalism in the pursuit of higher ratings, and the poker game got underway. They played out several hands and managed to put away most of the beer. Makepeace was pleased to actually be winning for a change, and had accumulated a nice little pile of money. He repressed a grin as Jones dealt out the latest hand—until he got a look at his cards. Then he picked up his beer bottle and drained it.

"Bad hand, Colonel?" Johnson said with malicious glee. The lieutenant had been losing rather consistently.

"Oh, 'bout the same," Makepeace lied. Johnson scowled. Makepeace pasted a smug look on his face and reached for another beer.

However, it soon became apparent that no amount of bluffing or bravado could make up for a really lousy hand, and Makepeace conceded defeat and folded. He ignored Johnson's smirk. "I'll watch the movie while you guys play it out," he said. He got out of his chair and picked up his beer, intent on heading to the couch.

The doorbell rang.

The four Marines exchanged a bewildered glance. "Who the hell could that be? It's almost three in the morning," Jones said.

"You live in a weird neighborhood," Johnson accused Smith, who only raised his brows.

"I'll get it. I'm up, anyway." Makepeace went to the door but, considering that he was a little buzzed and it was almost 3 am, he had sense enough not to open it. He called out, "Who is it?"

There was a pause, then a quiet, slightly nasal voice replied, "Candygram."

Makepeace frowned. "Candygram? I didn't order any candy." He turned back to his teammates, who were hunched over their cards. "Any of you guys order some candy?"

A chorus of disinterested denials were grunted in reply. Makepeace said to the closed door, "No one ordered any candy here. Sorry, but you've got the wrong place."

He turned away from the door. His teammates were still playing out the hand, so he plopped down on the couch and watched the monster movie. He heard the betting going on behind him, and hoped they'd hurry up and finish the hand so he could get back into the game.

On the TV screen, Craig T. Nelson and Kim Cattrall were confronting an asshole of an admiral and a team of SEALs. The movie wasn't particularly subtle. It was obvious that the admiral knew a lot more about the monster than anyone else, and equally obvious that he wasn't willing to share that knowledge—not even with his own troops.

"Go Navy," Makepeace muttered derisively.

"What an asshole," Johnson commented, echoing Makepeace's own sentiments about the admiral character.

"I thought you guys were still playing poker." Makepeace looked back at the dining area. His teammates had suspended their card game and were watching the TV like vultures.

"Oh, when we noticed the squids, we just had to stop and tune in," said Smith.

They all watched a little more of the scene. "Dumbass swabbies," Johnson said, shaking his head.

"I always knew the Navy was eeeevil," Jones intoned.

"Look at that SEAL who's talking to the admiral," Smith said, pointing at the screen. "Does he look kind of familiar to you guys?"

"I think that's the team leader," Makepeace said. "You're right, he does look familiar, but I can't figure out where I've seen him before."

"Whoever he is, he's got problems," Jones said dismissively. "His boss ain't telling him jack about the monster he and his guys are supposed to be hunting."

"Huh," Smith said. "He'd better listen to Craig and Kimmy. Even if they do sound like raving lunatics."

"I would," Johnson said.

"You'd listen to anything Kim Cattrall said," Makepeace ribbed him.

"Who wouldn't?"

They continued to watch the ridiculous horror movie with morbid fascination. The story progressed along fairly predictable lines, with the shark-monster getting smarter and deadlier, and most of the human characters getting dumber and dumber as the danger increased.

At one point, two young fools were running through the woods in a panic. The couple stopped beneath a tree. The man noticed yellow gunk dripping on him. He looked up. Perched in the tree was the shark-monster, complete with muscular arms and legs, and drooling slime from its toothy mouth. The woman screamed.

"It's 'Jaws' on steroids!" Johnson chortled.

Makepeace stared incredulously at the screen. "My God, this is stupid."

"No kidding," Smith agreed, laughing. "Even 'Deep Blue Sea' was better than this."

Makepeace picked up the remote and started channel surfing. He paused on a cartoon of a shark sitting in the branches of a tree.

Jones said, "Didn't we just see that? Since when did sharks start hanging out in trees, anyway?"

Suddenly, the shark exploded. The cartoon character Space Ghost narrated: "Why do sharks explode?" The scene switched to an illustration of a shark with firecrackers in its head, with text labels pointing out "Brains" and "Sex Organs." Space Ghost continued: "This is because sometimes their brains and sexual organs are made out of M-80s. Sometimes, to attract mates, a shark will explode." A series of cartoon sharks, lying around in the woods, exploded onscreen.

"Jeeze, sir, change it back before my brain melts," Johnson whined.

Makepeace snickered and flipped back to the monster movie.

"Thank you, sir," Smith said with feeling.

"Are you people going to watch cartoons all night, or are we going to play some poker here?" Jones complained to his teammates.

Johnson, Smith, and Jones turned away from the TV screen and went back to their cards. Makepeace sat on the couch and watched the movie. The shark-monster was chasing the young couple through the woods. The sequence was interspersed with bizarre flashes from some kind of voodoo ceremony.

The doorbell rang again.

Smith said, "Sir, could you get that? I don't trust these losers not to look at my hand." Jones growled at him. Johnson smiled mirthlessly and upped the ante.

Makepeace sighed and went to the door. "Who is it?" he called.

After a moment, the same small voice as before said, "Campfire Girls."

Makepeace checked his watch and scowled furiously. "At this hour? I don't think so. Besides, I know they won't be selling mints until next month."

A few seconds ticked by, then: "Amway."

"Everyone hates Amway. You can forget it. Just go away already," Makepeace snapped, irritated by the attempted trickery. That—plus the large amount of alcohol he had consumed—triggered a brainwave. "You're not selling Amway, are you? I bet you're that landshark they were talking about on the news. You are, aren't you?"

There was a noticeable pause, then the voice said, very quietly, "No."

"Yes, you are! Go away. Nobody here is going to open the door for a stupid landshark."

There was no reply to that. Satisfied at having routed the enemy, Makepeace wandered back to the table. The poker game was still in full swing, his teammates all intent on bluffing one another.

Business as usual, really. Makepeace shrugged. He grabbed a piece of pizza and another beer, and settled comfortably on the couch. On the TV, the SEALs were in a partially flooded lab, burning all the evidence of the creature and the evil admiral's illegal experiments.

One of the SEALs was holding Craig T. Nelson's character back to prevent him from interfering with the destruction. Makepeace frowned at the screen. It was the same actor they'd been discussing just a little while ago. "Anybody figure out who that guy is?" he asked, pointing at the SEAL.

Smith glanced at the TV. "Not yet. It'll probably come to me eventually, though."

Jones said, "Who cares? He's just some actor. He's probably been in a zillion things."

"Yeah, I know, but it's bugging me," Smith said. "Wish I could place him."

Johnson, watching the events on the TV screen, pronounced judgment: "Damn, those squids are dumber than dog shit. Ten to one they all end up as creature-chow."

"I don't take no sucker bets," Smith retorted. Jones snickered.

Makepeace said, "Everyone in this movie is too stupid to live. Islanders everywhere oughtta sue for character defamation." He took a swig of beer and a big bite of pizza. His teammates grunted agreement and returned their attention to their card game.

The doorbell rang.

"Jesus, it's Grand Central Station here tonight. Doesn't anyone in this town ever sleep?" Makepeace groused, once again going to the door. "Who's there?" he asked around a mouthful of half-chewed pizza.

After a tiny pause, the quiet, slightly nasal voice said, "Unicef."

"Huh," Makepeace said, swallowing his masticated food. "Unicef. Well, that's a good cause." He asked his teammates, "Anyone wanna donate to Unicef?"

"Yeah," said Jones. "I've got a five they can have."

Johnson and Smith also agreed to chip in. "Anything to get rid of the distractions," Smith growled. The three poker players glared at one another over their cards. The pile of money in the center of the table had grown tremendously over the last few betting rounds.

Since none of them showed even the slightest sign of budging from the table, Makepeace said, "Okay, you guys can pay me back later." He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet and extracted a few bills, then opened the door. "Here you go—" he began, holding out the cash.

Jaws agape, the landshark pounced on him, dragged him out of the apartment, and gobbled him up in short order. The door slammed shut. The bills fluttered to the floor.

At the table, the Marines were so intent on their game that they were totally oblivious to anything else. They went one last round, then Smith called. After they showed their cards, Johnson gloated, "Losers!" and raked in the pile of money.

"Can't stand a bad winner," Jones grumbled. He glanced at the TV. "Hey, look, the monster's finally eating those bozo swabbies!"

"Bwah-hahahahahaha!" Johnson chimed in, counting his take. "Go, Sharky! You rock, dude!"

As SG-3 cheered the monster on, the SEAL they had been discussing earlier was snatched offscreen.

"There he goes." Smith scratched his chin. "Pity. I never did figure out who he reminded me of."


*** The End ***

 


November, 2002