Title: Death on a Triscuit
Disclaimer: I don’t own Methos. He belongs to Davis/Panzer, but that doesn’t mean I can’t torture him a bit, right? Nor do I own anything related to The West Wing or her sorely missed writer, Aaron Sorkin. Um, Nabisco owns Triscuit, except for the box in my kitchen.
A/N: It was brought to my attention (very nicely) that the West Wing part of this was a little too, um, obscure. Thanks Trinfaneb! I hope this helps. I'm referencing a scene from the season 1 episode The Crackpots and These Women. It was the first Big Block of Cheese Day episode. It's also the first time we meet Zoey Bartlet. At the end, she is stirring a pot of chili when Josh comes in and she tells him "You look like death on a triscuit." I've always thought it was a funny line, but then I got the image of Methos hearing that line and imagining it a slightly different way. The mental picture made me giggle, so I felt the need to share. Enjoy.
The man wore white robes and blue face paint. He lay upon a rough surface and tasted salt in his mouth. Suddenly, he felt a heavy weight settle over his entire body. He choked on the sickeningly-sweet scent of . . . honey-baked ham?
The Horseman hors d'oeuvre sailed through the air toward a dark gaping maw ringed by giant white teeth.
Methos awoke with a gasp. The fearsome bogeyman of the ancient world wiped his sodden brow and flopped back onto his pillow. He finally fell asleep while muttering in several dead languages, cursing the name of Aaron Sorkin.