FARTSCAPE: A Tale of Flatulence & Food
By Iris Green
© Iris Green 2002

The tiny Hynerian floated regally around the galley, placing the marjoohl after marjoohl on the platter and then piling up the second tray with bowls of the second Hynerian delicacy he had prepared.  It was his turn to prepare the evening meal, or so they said.  Rygel didn't really think that it was a matter of who's turn it was ... it was a matter of them serving him.  But nonetheless, the Peacekeeper and her farhbot human had pushed and shoved him into the galley and insisted it was his turn.  Not that I mind so much ... after all, if I'm the one doing the preparing, no one will notice if I sample the cooking.  With that thought he slipped a handful of marjoohls into his mouth and then rearranged the plate so it looked as full as it had before.  I deserve more food anyway.  I'm royalty and I have three stomachs to fill.  He picked up the first tray and floated towards the table where his fellow crew members would soon be assembling.  Setting it down, he turned and went back for the second.  Rygel carefully placed the tray full of bowls on the table, being careful not to spill any of the precious liquid in side.  Nekcihc Puos was an extreme rarity in Hyneria, made only by the best chefs and made only for the most important of Hynerians.  That most important Hynerian being him.  I just hope I got the recipe right.

One by one each crew member steadily filtered into the galley after Rygel's announcement that the evening meal was ready.  He watched as they each passed through the door, siting in their respective places around table.  The first one to enter was Zhaan, followed closely by Stark.  She nodded to Rygel and then, looking at the table, seemed to be fairly pleased with what she saw.   They both sat down and then Chiana came bounding through the door.

"Hey your Royal Frogness," she giggled, "What did ya cook up?"

"Marjoohls and a Hynerian specialty," he answered proudly.

Chiana turned to look at the table and shrugged, not really caring as long as there was food to eat, and then sat, saving a spot next to her for D'Argo.  In the meantime D'Argo entered, not even regarding the small Dominar on his throne as he moved toward the table, sitting next to Chiana.  The last to come piling into the small galley was Crichton and Aeryn.  They look as if they've been busy, Rygel noted, catching sight of their disheveled appearance and flustered looks. Smell like it too.  They moved past him and sat down in the last seats, eliciting a low growl from D'Argo as they did.

"Hey man, it's not my fault you happened to be walking down that corridor," John whined.

"You have chambers.  Why can't you use them," D'Argo griped.

Aeryn leaned forward and waggled her fork at him, "We'll start using ours when you and Chiana start using yours."

D'Argo blushed as Chiana attempted to respond.  But before she could utter a word Rygel cleared his throat and hovered at the end of the table.  He glanced at everyone, their eyes fixed on him, awaiting whatever it was he had to say.

"Ahem ... you may eat."

John laughed after a moment of silence.  "Well thanks for the go ahead there, Sparky."  He reached for a handful of little purplish brown things on a platter and dropped them on his plate.  Aeryn turned up her nose at them.  "What?"

"You're going to eat those?  All of those?"

"Is there a problem?"

She smiled smugly and shook her head, grabbing a bowl full of dull, greenish colored liquid from the other dish.  "No, no problem."

Everyone dug into the food and ate well, despite the food's not so palpable appearance.

"So, uh, Sparky, what is this stuff?" John asked, taking his fourth bowlful of Nekcihc Puos.  No one else seemed to want their, John was hungry, and things tended to even themselves out.

"It's a Hynerian delicacy .. Nekcihc Puos," he stated.

"Hmmm..." John pondered this as he swallowed another spoonful of the liquid.  "Not too bad."

Aeryn was still smirking at him as he licked the fourth bowl clean.  John ignored her and took a swig of his drink.

As the evening wore on and dinner ended, everyone began leaving the central chamber to either go back to their own, or to wherever else they may have needed to be.  D'Argo and Chiana left together and headed for command, it being their duty shift.  Stark had already wandered off by the time Zhaan retired to her room to meditate, and even Rygel had grown weary.  John and Aeryn were left behind to clean up, though cleaning up was the last thing on their minds.

With Aeryn stationed on a counter top, John engaged in a fierce session of tongue-dueling with the woman he loved.  Her legs were wrapped reflexively around his waist, holding him close, and John splayed his fingers across her back, under her shirt.  Their kiss continued to deepen and the distance between their bodies lessened with each passing microt.  John knew that neither of them would be able to hold out any longer without going at it right there, so he reluctantly broke their fiery kiss and tried to catch his breath.  Their lips parted, both of them panting and sucking in air.

"Maybe we should take this back to our chambers," John breathed.

"Yeah," she answered shortly, taking in a deep breath.

He slid his hands under her and picked her up, her legs tightening their hold.  Then they started out of the galley.

"Oh, John," she said suddenly before they even made it out of the room.


"The dishes."

John looked back at them and shook his head.  "Oh well."

They both grinned as they continued down the hall.




Wow, that was something ... And PART TWO is going to really live up to the title.
Hope you guys enjoyed this.  And I hope this will help me keep my sanity.
Review and review and even email me if you like and I'll get PART TWO up ASAP.


"The dantiest last, to make the end most sweet."
King Richard II, Act I Sc III

Fartscape continues with part 2 >>

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Disclaimer: Farscape is owned by Jim Henson ... Hey, there's news ... NOT! ... anyway, I don't own this wonderful sci-fi show and I don't own any of the magnificent characters on it (though I wish I did) and I swear on Farscape and all that's holy (which is Farscape) that I don't plan on making any money off of this or it.

Rating: PG-13
Archiving:  Go right ahead, yesiree ... all I ask is that you give me credit.
Feedback:  Please R/R ... and to give me further feedback email me at aerynsun01@yahoo.com
Spoilers: Nada ... nopers
Timeline: Before third season I'd say.

Summary: Rygel prepares dinner and John eats like a starving man.  The only problem is ... well, I'll let you figure it out.  I promise tons of laughs and tons of fun and tons of flatulence.

Author's Note:  This is merely a side project to help keep my sanity as I work my way through For Everything There Is A Season .  Don't worry, you'll all have plenty of my other story as well as plenty of this.  It only means that I'll be working harder to bring you great stuff.  And I can do that.  But I have to get this story out of my head and onto the screen of my computer.  And I wanted to get it up before my idea was stolen.  You never know who could be overhearing my conversations with myself.

Credit Where Credit's Due:  TOMMY -- you know who you are.  You hate Farscape, you hate science fiction and all you ever do is watch the news and listen to Bluegrass.  But you make fun of my most favorite TV show by calling it "Fartscape" and that was enough to spawn this hopefull mediocre fic.  THANK YOU SO MUCH!

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