You Can't Judge a Man by the Cut of His Cloth, by Tallulah Rasa (PG)

[figs_sg1_rec]

Rec Category: Jack O'Neill

Pairing: none
Categories: Jack O'Neill, team, Walter, gen, humor, character study
Warnings: none
Author on LJ: unknown
Author's Website: To Explore the Universe and Eat Pie
Link: You Can't Judge a Man by the Cut of His Cloth

Why This Must Be Read: So many insane things happen in the SGC on a routine basis. So when General Jack O'Neill discovers that he's turned into a puppet, the only question is, "What next" – and, possibly, "What did Daniel touch this time?"

This seriously funny story gives us Jack in his office, wondering not only how this has happened and how his former teammates will react, but whether or not his loose eyebrow is going to come off completely. Daniel's reaction to the situation is my personal favorite, but the real charm of the story comes with Walter's appearance on the scene – when the fic suddenly veers from deadpan humor and hilarious characterization into sweet poignancy, as Jack gets the kind of reassurance that no one is really in a position to give.

Being "The Man" wasn't easy on Jack. In Tallulah Rasa's delightful story, we see both the stress and the acceptance… and end up laughing, too!
 

He was short.  Very short.  And also kind of fuzzy, in a felt-y sort of way.  And he was starting to think, when he looked down at his three-fingered, softly napped, sort-of peach-y hands, that the reflection he'd caught sight of in his office window – the reflection that looked a lot like a gray, extremely cranky Muppet – was, in fact, his reflection.  That he, General Jack O'Neill, was a…a…

A puppet.

Crap.

Jack looked down again at his hands, which were really more like oven mitts, and thought that it was going to be damned hard to pick up the phone to alert the Joint Chiefs and the President about today's particular situation at the SGC. Or to pick up a

P-90, should anyone wandering by his office decide to crack a Kermit joke.  Or to…

Jack sent up a quick, fervent prayer to the gods, both human and puppet: Please don't let me have to pee until this is over.  Zipper logistics aside, having felt hands was freaking him out enough.

Okay.  

Jack took a deep breath, and tried to ignore the feeling of felt-y hairs in his nose.  Sit rep. Well, obviously something was going on at the SGC.  A foothold situation, or an incursion, or something.  By…alien kindergarten teachers with blunt-end scissors?  The Henson family?  Who would cause a freaking thing like this, anyway?

And then it came to him: Daniel must have touched something. 

The thought of it made him clench his sort-of hands and draw his eyebrows together, and he was momentarily distracted by the realization that one eyebrow was kind of…loose.  He'd have to fix that; get a needle and thread and…

First things first.  He should probably check out the base.  See if everyone was a puppet.  Of course, that would mean getting out of his chair, and it looked like a long way down.  And he wasn't really all that confident about walking, anyway, what with having felt legs, for crying out loud.  And knees.  And maybe a felt…

Jack thumped his head on the chair arm.  Well, on the bright side, if the Goa'uld decide to attack us now, they'll die of laughter.