Serious Cheerios Crisis

This is just completely awesome. I don't generally read a lot of SGA, but this fic was just the most fun to read: Woobie of Woe.

An excerpt:

"WE NEED MORE CHEERIOS"

Grodin watched Verdan's head drop to the console.

"Dear god above!" Her head popped back up to search out Grodin's eyes, "I don't suppose there's any way..." she began.

Grodin held up a hand to stop her, "I've tried shutting him out of the comm system. But he just gets back in."

"AND SOME JUICE...apple will do."

"Can't you just pipe him into the kitchen?" Verdan begged.

Grodin shrugged, "I tried that earlier. There's only Cohen left down there...."

"CHEERIOS"

"...And I suspect he's found a way to rip the speakers out of the wall."

"Maybe we could just assign someone to be his gofer?"

Grodin's eyebrows rose, "And who would you suggest for the job?"

"THEY'RE LITTLE ROUND FOODSTUFFS"

"Someone I hated."

"What I mean is," Grodin waved an arm to indicate the empty gate room, "there really isn't anyone to spare. We've shifted so many people to do clean-up on the planet we have no bodies left to step and fetch for him."

"HELLO?"

"I know. I know." Verdan heaved a giant sigh and let her eyes wander, "It's really too quiet around here right now. Unless you head towards the med area."

"It is getting a little crowded over there." He looked down at the pad in front of him, "We're going to have to start diverting of the jumpers to take some of these people to the mainland."

"THEY CONSIST MAINLY OF WHOLE GRAIN OAT FLOUR"

"Okay, that one was unnecessary," Verdan shouted at the disembodied voice.

"WE'RE ABOUT TO HAVE A SERIOUS CHEERIOS CRISIS HERE, PEOPLE"

[NPM] She's all states, and all princes I...

Early Donne, from his wilder, younger days...

"The Sun Rising"
John Donne

     BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,
     Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us ?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run ?
      Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
     Late school-boys and sour prentices,
  Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
  Call country ants to harvest offices ;
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

      Thy beams so reverend, and strong
     Why shouldst thou think ?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long.
     If her eyes have not blinded thine,
     Look, and to-morrow late tell me,
  Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine
  Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, "All here in one bed lay."

     She's all states, and all princes I ;
     Nothing else is ;
Princes do but play us ; compared to this,
All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy.
     Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,
     In that the world's contracted thus ;
  Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
  To warm the world, that's done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere ;
This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.