Title:  Flaming Cheese

By: tayryn

Rating:  PG-15  (I know… shocking!)

Archive:  my site only

Disclaimer:  Paramount owns them…

Summary:  the fuse is lit… the music is starting…

Notes:  thanks go to the wardrobe/fashion consultant, Jaya for her informative and helpful wardrobe choices.


Where this story came from is anyone’s guess.  And when you figure it out… you wanna tell me.  Thanks.


And big mucho thanks and hugs to my beta, the ever-charming Jaya!




“Good evening, Mr. Phelps.  I know we usually do this in the morning, but last night we went out for Mexican, and the Flaming Cheese just went straight through me and well… I’ve spent all morning in the can and… oh sorry…  Good evening, Mr. Phelps.  The man you’re looking at is General Imgonnabeimpersonated has done something really really bad to some really really nice people.


Your mission, Jim, should you chose to accept it, is to stop General Imgonnabeimpersonated so that he is no longer doing those really really bad things to those really really nice people.


As always, should you or any of your IM Force be caught or killed, and we both know they won’t be, ‘cause hey, they’re they best team we have, anyway, should you or any of your IM Force be caught or killed, the secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions.


This tape will self-destruct in five seconds.


Good luck, Jim.”


Seconds later, the tape burst into flames… well, okay, we all know it was just a really cool smoke effect.


Jim looked down at the tape then reached into the pocket of his pants, pulled out his lighter and lit the corner of the picture still in his hand.


As the flame slowly consumed the curling paper, Jim turned and walked away, talking to himself.  “Oh, I don’t think so.  Screw this shit.”


Later, in Jim’s apartment where everyone had broken out of the monotonous black and white and shades thereof… Jim told his top team of the mission he had decided not to take.


“So, we’re not going to go after General Imgonnabeimpersonated?”  Willy asked, sporting a bright pink pair of workout shorts, which showed off the muscles bulging all over his body.


“No, we’re not,” Jim answered as he lounged on his black leather sofa in an orange jogging suit, his usually neat hair in total disarray on his head.


“Then you’ll have no need for all these fabulous thingamabobs, whatchamacallits and doohickeys I’ve made up to help get us out of any situation?”  Barney stated as he tugged on the bright yellow bowtie that was part of the green suit he was wearing.


“Not this time, Barney,” Jim said as he drew on his cigarette.  “But they do look very groovy, so keep them around.  Maybe we can use them on our next mission.”


“So, essentially, you’ve called us all here to tell us we’re not taking this mission?”  Rollin asked, trying to ignore the hand that was slipping between the folds of his sapphire blue silk robe.


“Pretty much,” Jim nodded as he took another hit off his cigarette.


“Told you we should have left the force when Dan did,” Cinnamon said to Rollin as the hand that wasn’t trying to creep into his robe adjusted the strap of the vibrant, happy-hooker-red peignoir she was wearing before she then crossed her legs and dangled a six-inch stiletto heel with red feathers off her perfect toes.  “Really, Jim… Rollin and I were quite busy and don’t appreciate being interrupted for no reason like this.”


“Well, I’m sorry, Cinnamon,” Jim drawled in a strained voice as he talked through the inhalation.  “But I just thought that we should follow the standard episode acts, and all meet here for no other reason than for this new writer to make total asses out of all of us and get you and Rollin in the sack, no matter how gratuitous the sack-inning is.”


“Gratuitous!?  We’re only getting a gratuitous sex scene?!”  Rollin yelled and jumped to his feet, forgetting about the fuzzy red handcuffs securing him to Cinnamon.  “Why aren’t we getting a proper love scene?”


“Because the lady writing this little story is actually quite busy on another epic but has had this little idea in her head for some time,” Jim answered.  “She’s always wondered what would have happened if I had turned down a mission.”


“We’d have no show,” Barney said.


“Yeah, and besides, accepting the mission is in the script,” Willy spoke up.


“But after three years and all the heated looks, and fleeting touches, don’t we deserve to have a proper love scene written for us?”  Cinnamon asked.  “We even brought props!”


Rollin grinned as he held up a red satin sleeping mask, two long red silk scarves, a large red ostrich feather and another pair of fuzzy red handcuffs.  “Just think of what she could have us do with these!”


Cinnamon turned a heated gaze on her paramour and tugged on the handcuffs they were already wearing.  “Oh, I’m thinking about it, baby.  Yeah, yeah, yeah…” she said in a sultry voice.  “And this spice wants to get back to seasoning your body!”


“Sounds like a plan to me,” Rollin said, flashing her his trademark piano grin.  “Let’s go get covert under the red silk sheets back at my apartment.”


Cinnamon winked at him then turned to the others.  “Good day, gentlemen,” she said and then began to walk towards the door, tugging her soon to be love-slave behind her.  “Come on, lover.  We’ve got some impossible positions to get in to.”


Jim, Willy and Barney all shared knowing looks and begin to hum… “Do do do do do do… do do do  di di di… di di di…”




The door slammed shut.




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