Here is the finished one-sentence story
"Napoleon, did you know that the consumption of the Australian aquatic fern called Nardoo can cause you to starve if improperly prepared?"
Napoleon glanced around the bleak cell and shrugged; “considering how little they’ve fed us in the last three days, I don’t think we need to worry about fern induced starvation, which leads one to ponder,” Solo mused, “how ought this delicacy be properly prepared, and what would the resulting effect be when consumed?”
Ilya looked at him and huffed, “Now you’re worried about the fern when thrush is keeping us in this locked filthy cell.”
“You brought up the subject, so I was merely being polite and— holy smokes, what was that!?”
Illya grimaced and said, "Relax- that was my stomach growling from hunger, which, by the way, had I ingested enough under-heated naboo, it could be a good thing, because I would lose my appetite and not be hungry!"
Napoleon shook his head and gave the cell door a push, while saying, "You not being hungry would be a catastrophic event for all the restaurants and venders in New York."
‘Fortunately for the economy of New York, I have a plan,” Illya said, his eyes shifting to the one small window of their cell, just out of reach on the high wall opposite the door.
"Please enlighten me to this brilliant plan of yours. "
Removing his belt, Illya peeled away the concealed, specially engineered cord of ultra-high tensile strength which he had helped develop in the UNCLE lab.
"I say that when in Rome, we should do what the Romans do and now would be a good time for you to starting yelling, Napoleon."
Napoleon, warily eying the cord’s placement felt his mouth go dry for a moment, but in a carefully casual tone quipped, “Would you prefer that in baritone or soprano?”
"As long as it's loud and sincere sounding, I don't very much care, " Illya said, a sly smile on his lips.
Without further argument, Napoleon dropped to the concrete floor, writhing and wailing, as his partner crouched in the shadows beside the cell door.
“Louder,” hissed Illya, still deep in the shadows, waited...and waited...and waited...until he said the two little words every agent dreads; “Uh, oh!”
"I know what I mean when I say that, but I'm hoping you mean something else, please?' Napoleon said as he hefted himself off the floor.
"I only mean,” the Russian hissed, “that there are two sets of footsteps approaching this morning, not the usual single set, so you need to be prepared to handle the second guard after I have the first in a chokehold … so get ready NOW!”
After what seemed a lifetime, the footsteps (which had sounded bold, and even arrogant) were slowing and appeared to falter, causing the agents to mutter (silently), why don’t they just get on with it?
“Napoleon … Illya … are you here?” a familiar, and distinctly feminine, voice whispered.
"April, is that you and did you manage to bring along the rest of the cavalry," Illya stage-whispered.
“Of course, darlings, the yelling provided perfect directions...now, if you could back away a few feet, I’ll see what I can do about opening this door,” eyes sparkling with mischief, “and then we can see about getting dinner!”
Illya's stomach rumbled again. "Dinner sounds delightful. By the way, Illya asked, “Did you know that the consumption of the Australian aquatic fern called Nardoo can cause you to starve if improperly prepared?"
Feel free to post wherever you want, but remember a nod to your fellow posters:
spikesgirl58, dancingpony, olden_fan, jkkitty, selyndaep, akane42me, and mollywheezy,
Napoleon glanced around the bleak cell and shrugged; “considering how little they’ve fed us in the last three days, I don’t think we need to worry about fern induced starvation, which leads one to ponder,” Solo mused, “how ought this delicacy be properly prepared, and what would the resulting effect be when consumed?”
Ilya looked at him and huffed, “Now you’re worried about the fern when thrush is keeping us in this locked filthy cell.”
“You brought up the subject, so I was merely being polite and— holy smokes, what was that!?”
Illya grimaced and said, "Relax- that was my stomach growling from hunger, which, by the way, had I ingested enough under-heated naboo, it could be a good thing, because I would lose my appetite and not be hungry!"
Napoleon shook his head and gave the cell door a push, while saying, "You not being hungry would be a catastrophic event for all the restaurants and venders in New York."
‘Fortunately for the economy of New York, I have a plan,” Illya said, his eyes shifting to the one small window of their cell, just out of reach on the high wall opposite the door.
"Please enlighten me to this brilliant plan of yours. "
Removing his belt, Illya peeled away the concealed, specially engineered cord of ultra-high tensile strength which he had helped develop in the UNCLE lab.
"I say that when in Rome, we should do what the Romans do and now would be a good time for you to starting yelling, Napoleon."
Napoleon, warily eying the cord’s placement felt his mouth go dry for a moment, but in a carefully casual tone quipped, “Would you prefer that in baritone or soprano?”
"As long as it's loud and sincere sounding, I don't very much care, " Illya said, a sly smile on his lips.
Without further argument, Napoleon dropped to the concrete floor, writhing and wailing, as his partner crouched in the shadows beside the cell door.
“Louder,” hissed Illya, still deep in the shadows, waited...and waited...and waited...until he said the two little words every agent dreads; “Uh, oh!”
"I know what I mean when I say that, but I'm hoping you mean something else, please?' Napoleon said as he hefted himself off the floor.
"I only mean,” the Russian hissed, “that there are two sets of footsteps approaching this morning, not the usual single set, so you need to be prepared to handle the second guard after I have the first in a chokehold … so get ready NOW!”
After what seemed a lifetime, the footsteps (which had sounded bold, and even arrogant) were slowing and appeared to falter, causing the agents to mutter (silently), why don’t they just get on with it?
“Napoleon … Illya … are you here?” a familiar, and distinctly feminine, voice whispered.
"April, is that you and did you manage to bring along the rest of the cavalry," Illya stage-whispered.
“Of course, darlings, the yelling provided perfect directions...now, if you could back away a few feet, I’ll see what I can do about opening this door,” eyes sparkling with mischief, “and then we can see about getting dinner!”
Illya's stomach rumbled again. "Dinner sounds delightful. By the way, Illya asked, “Did you know that the consumption of the Australian aquatic fern called Nardoo can cause you to starve if improperly prepared?"
Feel free to post wherever you want, but remember a nod to your fellow posters:
spikesgirl58, dancingpony, olden_fan, jkkitty, selyndaep, akane42me, and mollywheezy,