11:00 PM – Time for Pookie to go to bed.
“Lights out, Pookie! It’s long past time for you to go to bed, so you can grow up to be a big and strong Host!
Jake says something exceedingly rude and unprintable. I certainly can’t quote it on my website, but I remind him that fussiness and crankiness means he needs to take a nap because everybody knows that babies start wailing when they need to take a nice, long nap.
I start singing a lullaby, and halfway through I forget the stupid words.
"Go to sleep, pookie-pie. It's night time and you're tired... Getting tired.. getting tired... lala...laaaaa.laaaaaa."
He ignores me, protesting, “Do you think that I’m going to fall asleep just because you’re….Zzzffffttttttt.”
He’s out cold.
Apparently, Jake still doesn’t realize that I can just turn the lights out on him at any given time. Don’t look at me like that, I’m doing it for Jake’s own good, else he’d stay up late every single night and he’d catch a head snake, I mean, a head cold. A Goa’uld wouldn’t care if her Pookie caught a cold. But I care, mainly as I have to listen to his whining and his sniffling, so I make sure that he gets all his Vitamins from A to Z, and that he gets at least eight hours of sleep a night.
“Jake? You awake? Wake up?” I queried loudly.
Zfffftttttttt is my only answer. He seems completely asleep, so carefully I sit up in our bed, and I stretch ever so quietly. Putting his feet on the floor, I stand up.
Quickly, I fire up our web site on the computer in our cubicle. There's only been one hit since I last looked, and I KNOW that it's his daughter Sam. I reload the index page a dozen or so times so Jake thinks that people are visiting! Else he'll make me take it down as he thinks it's a complete waste of time.
That done, it means that it’s time for me to play with the body.
First things first, a little yoga. Whenever I try to teach Jake yoga, he keeps screaming about being unable to bend that way and about never being able to have children again. I don't understand what he's talking about, but now I do my exercises at night when he’s sleeping.
And hold…one…two…three…. That done, I lift weights for a bit. After an hour or so, it’s time for the Tok’Ra Treadmill, as a slow Tok’Ra is a very dead Tok’Ra. I don’t know how many times Jake has needed to run like hell to save our lives. Does he ever wonder why his little Pookie legs are so quick and strong? No, he thinks his speed and endurance is due to the Sassy Symbiote he carries.
Yeah, his legs are so quick because Selmak runs a hundred or so royal cubits every night. Oops, I mean, a couple of miles.
It’s now 1:00 AM Tok’ra Time, and it’s time for me to be pampered.
Kyan’s such a sweet boy, as he knows immediately what I want. Facial, pedicure, manicure, head shave and a massage. Meanwhile, another one of our Tok’Ra operative is offering me a few delicious Ted’s Tok’Ra Truffles plus a nice alcoholic drink.
“Selmak, I’ve got this new recipe, you’re going to love it!”
Sometimes, it’s really good to be the oldest, coolest and wisest of the Tok’Ra. Kyan’s busy beating my host’s muscular tension out with a vigorous muscle massage, and he’s telling me that everyone’s still thinking that I’ve gone native.
“I’m trying to show all the little impressionable Tok’Ra’s and the Tok’Ra-ettes that the Tau’Ri really aren’t that bad,” I protest. “I thought that playing their music might help prove that the Tau’Ri have culture.”
“Yes, but some of your methods are a little strange. Beatles Night didn’t work, as they thought you were bringing insects into the tunnels,” Ted reminded me.
“Then Heavy Metal Night had everyone convinced you were bringing plutonium into the tunnels,” Kyan teased as I tightened up. “When Jacob’s speakers blew, they evacuated the tunnels as they thought that there was a bomb.”
“Ok, AC/DC night didn’t work, but I seem to remember both of you boys getting down. Was it Reggae Night or Disco Night?” I questioned.
“What can I say, I’m just a Tok’Ra Dancing Queen,” sighed one.
“I hate when you say that, “I reminded him. “Well, Reggae Night was better than Baroque Night. Only Garshaw showed up for that one.”
“Selmak, you know the younger Tok’Ra think you’re great. You’re a lot of fun at parties, but…you’re getting a reputation for being eccentric. That’s why everyone shows up to your Tau’Ri Culture Nights, as they’re never sure what you might do next. Is that what you want?” Ted warned me.
“So I’m ECCENTRIC. It could be worse; I could have Jake’s reputation for being cranky!”
“He is a little cranky, especially in the morning. He wanders the tunnels, like a mad man, bemoaning about coffee?” Kyan questioned.
Turning away from my increasing eccentricism, I question the boys about possibly having Jake grow a goatee. That distracts them for a bit, and I'm thrilled that we're back on inane topics. Fortunately, the boys also don’t like Delek, so I don’t have to worry about Delek interrupting my quality “Me” Time. I think I deserve some quality “Me” time as I’m always saving the universe, the Earth or SG-1 at least thirty seven times a week.
It’s always, Sel, I need; Sel, I want; Sel, can you do this? Selmak, O’Neill’s turned a color of mulberries with green polka dots. Whatever is it? Is it contagious? Do I have to blow up the SGC to prevent it from contaminating the world? Selmak, can you fix this? Selmak, can you sew that button on my outfit?”
Selmak, Selmak, Selmak… want, want, want, need, need, need… and they never say thank you, not even George after I told O’Neill to hand over the colored markers immediately before O'Neill got hurt.
Now it’s a much needed “ME” moment for Selmak, and no one is going to bother me. It’s now time for a long sauna, and I noticed that a few of the little Tok’Ra-ettes are whispering in the corner. Finally, one of braver ones finally asks, “Are you going to teach us about the Tau’Ri tonight, Selmak?”
“Yes,” I begin even as I’m interrupted by their little high pitched squeals of excitement. “But remember! No Delek and no Council Members!”
“Of course! Of course!” They all shriek their happiness loudly in their collective teenage excitement. I wish I had hands so I cover my ears as they’re really shrill. Was I ever like that? No, Mom would have drowned me, probably.
It’s like they’re meeting the Beatles or something.
4:00 AM - It’s time for Tau’Ri 101 in the Council Chambers.
We’ve got assorted chips, popcorn, Tok’Ra treats and a lot of other goodies that Ted Tok’Ra whipped together.
“Now, I want you to watch this movie carefully. This explains why a great many of the Tau’Ri don’t like cute and cuddly, warm and fuzzy symbiotes,” I explain even as I put the DVD into Jake’s portable DVD player.
Silence descends as all the little Tok’Ras and the Tok’Ra-ettes watch the movie. They are watching intently, wanting to understand the confusing Tau’Ri better when the scene shows up.
John Hurt is on the table, screaming and then… then….
The Alien pops out of his guts.
An Alien that looks suspiciously like a cute and cuddly, warm and fuzzy Tok'Ra Symbiote.
The little Tok’Ras and the Tok’Ra-ettes shriek in mindless panic. Popcorn is scattered everywhere as they run screaming from the room. A few of the braver souls try to stay to watch the end of the movie, but they soon leave.
“That’s why they don’t like us. They’ve watched Alien far too many times,” I explain to the empty room.
I yawn, as it’s almost time for Jake to wake, and I have to hurry back to our room. Jake's almost awake so I don't have time to reload the index page on our website to increase the counter. Oh well, it was a slow night.
Snuggling into our bed, I’m quite annoyed when Jake wakes the minute our head hits our soft, cozy and comfy pillows. He’s chipper and well-rested. I send him a mental picture of someone holding a pillow over his head to suffocate him, even while I wish I had hands to do it.
“Come on, Sel! It’s time to get up! Rise and shine!”
“We’ve got a council meeting!”
Jake then thinks Reveille in his head. I moan a protest, and then he starts singing mentally, horribly off key. If only I had hands to cover my poor little ears! What am I saying? I don't HAVE ears!
I can’t get her up. I can’t get Sel up. I can’t get Sel up this MORNING!!!
Debating seriously for just a moment, I wonder what would happen if I suffocated Pookie.
Accidentally, you understand.
I CAN’T GET HER UP. I CAN’T GET SEL UP. I CAN’T GET SEL UP THIS MORNING!!!
I’ll sleep through the Council Meeting, ok? I can’t believe they’re having a breakfast Council Meeting. How stupid is that? You talk for us, and you let me know what’s been decided, but I don’t want you volunteering us for anything stupid and heroic.
SEL! You need to be at the meeting!
We getting invaded?
Mom show up?
Do we have any new little Tok’Ra and Tok’Ra-ettes in our midst?
I’ve been to over three thousand years of these meetings, Jake. Nothing’s that important to have an eight am meeting! Zfffftttt!
Selmak! This is important. Apparently, someone’s been having parties in the Council Chambers. There have been reports of hundreds of pounds of popcorn scattered about on the floor, plus other snacks. Then, we’ve got numerous reports of hosts having nightmares.
Yes, nightmares in which their Symbiotes burst out of their bodies!
Deliberately, I repress Jake’s memories about the movie franchise “Alien”. He’ll find out sooner or later, but I want a nap first.