A sequel to Fanfic Court, written and published with the consent of its original author.
Our Own Little Mary Sue Project:
"I can´t believe it!" Newkirk muttered as he butted his cigarette. "You´d think they´d bloody well calm down now that they´re on trial, afraid of the consequences. But no, the ladies decide to throw in some extra torture and killing, just to get on trial! They´re bloody well enjoying it!"
Kinch closed down the computer. "Well, it´s obvious. They want to be in the spotlight. Don´t we all," he observed. "And apparently they have no qualms about how to get there."
"Yeah, but do you need to kill someone to get into the spotlights? There are better ways for that! More decent, humane ways!" LeBeau huffed.
"It ain´t fair," Carter sulked. "I thought that trial was to teach them a lesson. And instead they get worse!"
Hogan agreed. "It´s backfiring big time. I, too, thought a serious trial would get them in line. But it seems it´s not working as we had planned."
"Well, we can´t let them continue," LeBeau declared. "We can´t let them torture you over and over again. If I ever get my hands on them, I´ll kill them myself!"
Hogan sniggered. "LeBeau, the worst of those torturers are women. Are you sure you could do a thing like that to a woman?"
LeBeau gulped. "Well, then perhaps I´d teach them a lesson some other way. But female torturers…! It´s not natural. They need to be brought in line. Une femme should be soft and beautiful and seductive. Not sadistic!"
"If you ever get your hands on them, that is," Baker damped him.
"You know what the problem is?" Newkirk observed from his bunk. "Those ladies simply have too much time on their hands. They should dedicate themselves to housework instead."
Kinch nodded. "I had a look around in the court´s kitchen when I went to get a glass of water. Boy, they have machines for everything! A dishwasher for example. You just place the dirty dishes and pots and pans in a rack, add soap, close the door and press a button. And an hour or so later everything is clean!"
Carter´s eyes shone. "Boy, that´s cool! How do they do that?"
Kinch shrugged. "Don´t know. But I doubt whether it comes out really clean that way."
"And they have laundry machines as well," Newkirk added. "And drying machines to dry the laundry."
"And a machine to peel potatoes," LeBeau remembered. "And they freeze their meals in an electric freezer, and then heat them up steaming hot in some kind of magic oven. Within ten minutes no less!"
"Oh, they had lots of goodies in that kitchen," Kinch snickered. "An electrical mixer, and an electrical can-opener, and an electrical knife…"
"I heard someone mention an electrical blanket," Baker said.
Hogan shuddered. "Must be a new torturing device. I sincerely hope they´ll spare me the experience."
"I heard they iron their clothes with an electrically heated flat-iron, too," Garth sighed as he heated his on the stove for the umpteenth time. "That is, if their clothes need ironing at all."
"That´s because they threw out the good sturdy stove," LeBeau declared. "Since they had everything else electrical, they couldn´t very well leave out electrical heating, could they? And they cook electrical as well."
"Well, I wouldn´t mind the heating they had in that courtroom," Carter objected. "I hadn´t been so snug and warm all through since I was drafted!"
"But don´t you see what the problem is?" Newkirk reminded them. "With all those ruddy machines, there´s nothing left for them to do around the house. So they get bored, and they start to write us to the end of our tether!"
"Well, I understand most women have a job in that era," Kinch pointed out. "So they can´t be that bored."
"But they only have one or two kids. Piece of soufflé. It´s not natural," LeBeau declared.
"Still, I say they have too much time on their hands," Newkirk insisted. "What happened to Monday Laundry-Day, or Tuesday Ironing-Day? Or Friday Cleaning-Day? (1) Clearly, women have to be kept busy. Otherwise they start abusing their men. Or us – if they don´t dare to take on their own."
"Well, we have a lot of time on our hands, too," Carter objected. "And we don´t make up all kinds of horror-stories about people, do we?"
It couldn´t have gone quieter if someone had pressed ´mute´ on the remote control.
Carter looked uncomfortably around as a tiny smile crept into Hogan´s face, mirrored on the faces of the others. "What? What did I say?" Carter inquired uneasily.
"Carter, my boy…" Hogan´s tiny smile grew into a grin from ear to ear as he slapped the young sergeant on the shoulder. "You´re a genius."
Carter gulped. "I am?"
"Yes, you are. Who says we can´t write our own fanfiction?"
"And just like in those Mary Sue experiments, we can have them drop in on us." Kinch did his best to look grave, but he failed miserably.
"But this time we are the ones determining what´s happening!" Newkirk added brightly.
And LeBeau rubbed his hands in anticipatory pleasure. "Serves them right! We can let all kinds of nasty things happen to them."
"And there´ll be nothing they can do about it, since we are the authors." Hogan had a mischievous grin. "All they can do is sweat out whatever we come up with. Just like they usually do to us."
Carter had caught on by now. "I´ll design my greatest bomb!"
"No." Hogan shook his head. "No killing. And no torturing either. Please let´s not make the mistake of retaliating violence with more violence; we´ve had more than enough of that in this blasted war. No, let´s show them what Hogan´s Heroes really stand for. Our reprisals for their violence will be humorous. And I know just the way to accomplish that!"
(1) I don´t know if it was the same in the States, but at least from around 1900 until the early sixties, this was the general weekly schedule for the Dutch housewife, followed by practically EVERY housewife in the country at the time.