THE ISN'T IT PUNDERFUL? AFFAIR (G)
By Periwinkle

Illya looked up in amazement as Napoleon stormed into their shared office and slammed a folder down on the desk. The action was so violent that it shook the hand holding the coffee cup and saucer and caused coffee to slurp over the side of the cup and into the dish.

Odd. This wasn't like Napoleon at all; he was known to never lose his cool. In fact, Napoleon was famous for his grace and charm in any situation.

Illya leaned back in his chair, cocked his head towards his partner, and raised an eyebrow. Napoleon responded to the implied question by whirling around and hitting the folder. "This (whomp) is my latest assignment (blam, wham.) You'd never believe what I have to do! (whomp, blam, slap.) I have to be a stand-up comic! (Finger in the air, jabbing at Illya). How am I going to manage that?"

Illya couldn't help grinning a little. "I'm sure it will be fine, Napoleon," he said soothingly. "You're a very punny guy."

"Ha!" said Napoleon, "I'm more likely to get shot by an irate audience member!"

"You could frisk them at the door," Illya suggested.

"I doubt they'll have guns in a nightclub. At least outside of Las Vegas."

Illya's grin got larger. "I was thinking more of rotten tomatoes and tin cans. Too bad we can't get them to throw Evereadys at you," Illya continued. "Then we could have them charged with assault by battery."

"You think this is funny, don't you?" Napoleon challenged.

"I don't know. I'd have to see your routine."

"That's just the problem, Illya! I don't have a routine."

"Yes you do, Napoleon," Illya said. "It begins with 'You know, a starry night like this makes me think of the sparkles in your eyes. And I don't feel the cold so much when our bodies are close together. But don't you think it would be better if we...'"

"I meant a comedy routine!" Napoleon interrupted.

"I've seen your pick-up routine many times," Illya reminded him. "Personally, I think it's a barrel of laughs."

Napoleon just glared at him. "Okay wise guy, then you come up with a joke."

"Hmm," said Illya, "There's always the one about the three holes in the ground."

Napoleon waited and when nothing more came, finally prompted "And?"

"Well, well, well."

Napoleon threw the folder at Illya's head, but Illya's reflexes were good enough that he easily ducked out of the way. "I take it you're not enjoying this, Napoleon."

Napoleon growled low in his throat. "I bet you can't do any better."

"Sorry, I'm afraid you're right," said Illya. "I only do science jokes."

Napoleon looked at him with a suspicious expression. "Science jokes?"

"Da."

"Give me an example."

Illya sighed. "A neutron goes into a bar and asks the bartender, 'How much for a beer?' The bartender replies, 'For you, no charge.'"

Napoleon was quiet for a minute. Illya finally took pity on him. "You see, Napoleon, atoms are made up of protons..."

Napoleon cut him off. "You've made your point."

"How about this one? Two atoms are walking down the street and they run into each other. One says to the other, 'Are you all right?' 'No, I lost an electron!' 'Are you sure?' 'Yeah, I'm positive!'"

Napoleon sighed. "Next you'll be telling me Soviet jokes."

"Napoleon! The Soviet Union is never a joke!"

Remembering past missions, Napoleon replied, "Yeah, sometimes it's downright deadly. And I suppose you could get sent to the gulag for a joke."

"True." Illya continued, "The last joke contest I heard of, the second place winner got two years in the gulag and the first place finisher got four years. Why do you think we drink so much vodka?"

Napoleon winced. "I can tell you're dying to tell me a joke anyway. It should be safe here, last I checked Khrushchev wasn't bugging our office. You would probably live to tell another joke in the future."

"Death wasn't on my mind," Illya smirked, "although in the U.S. you bug your politicians; in the Soviet they bug you. But since you asked, here's one for you. 'Everyone knows communism was invented by politicians. Scientists would have tested it on monkeys in advance'."

"Yeah, that will knock them dead on the Catskill circuit," Napoleon replied. "Quit monkeying around and help me with a good routine."

"Is there such a thing as a good comedy routine?" Illya asked, considering the concept. "Isn't that an oxymoron?"

"There's only one moron I can see in the room at the moment, and it's not me, so that must leave you," Napoleon muttered under his breath. Louder, he continued, "Preferably a routine that won't get me killed."

Keeping a straight face, Illya looked at Napoleon. "I thought you wanted to kill the audience."

"I just don't want the reverse, although it might make the world a better place if Thrush died laughing." Napoleon glared at his partner. "So what are you going to do about it?"

"Well, for the moment, I think I'll get my own coffee. I’m sure you’ll come up with something witty. Then again, UFOs may land here, also," and Illya got up and headed to the cafeteria. As he closed the door, he heard a flying saucer crash against the wall.