Happy Birthday Moose!
Jan. 10th, 2025 05:49 pmDoing this early so I don't have to cram it into my "always-later-than-I-think-it'll-be" regular update -- though I'm still pretty sure I'm posting this while you're asleep due to, you know, timezones. XD But anyway, here is your birthday fic,
anonymoose_au, which is a follow-up to the Christmas one:
---
“...what the hell.”
“Hey, that’s what I said!”
Doc snorted and lowered his bow, turning to look at his latest visitor. “Hello, George – what brings you by?”
“I wanted to ask you if you’d mind checking this new invention I thought up for for my next book for accuracy – but now I want to know what’s going on here,” George McFly said, looking from Doc, to the target, to Marty and Verne standing in front of it.
“Dad’s giving us archery lessons!” Verne told him, beaming and bouncing on the soles of his feet. “Before I go to wilderness camp in July!”
“Wilderness camp? You’re willingly going to one of those?”
“It was his idea,” Doc said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, after hearing me go on about my own boyhood summers spent in one or another...I take it your experiences with them have been less pleasant?”
“My parents forced me to go to one when I was eleven, and it was the worst summer of my life,” George said with feeling, pulling a face. “The very first night, it rained so hard that my tent got soaked all the way through and refused to dry out. And when I tried starting a fire, I could not get the wood to catch – the counselor had to do it for me in the end. And then I fell off the pier when we were practicing lifesaving and nearly actually drowned. And that was just the first three days!”
“Wow,” Verne said, eyes wide. “You didn’t mention anything like that happening to you, Dad.”
“Well, I’ve never fallen off a pier, and while it took me a while to start my first fire, I did manage it,” Doc told him – then, figuring honesty was the best policy, he added, “But I have had my fair share of unpleasantly rainy days in the woods. Don’t worry, though – I’ve already procured for you the most waterproof tent I can find.”
“Give him a life jacket too – just in case,” George suggested, before turning his attention back to the target. “So, guessing you signed him up for the archery classes.”
“I did indeed – mostly because I mentioned participating in them myself when I was younger, and Verne immediately decided he had to as well.”
“I gotta beat your record,” Verne said, giving him a big grin.
“Oh, that’ll be easy – I don’t remember what it was,” Doc grinned back, using his free hand to ruffle the fur on Verne’s favorite coonskin cap. He groaned and took it off to smooth it. “Do you have any horror stories about that class?”
“No – only because Mom thought, rightly, that it wasn’t a good idea to make me shoot anything sharp through the air,” George replied, deadpan. “I could be a bit of a klutz before Lorraine straightened me out...so that explains Verne, but – why are you doing this, Marty?” he added in the direction of his son. “You’re a bit old to be attending the camp.”
“Just looked like fun when I saw Doc brushing up,” Marty shrugged. “Granted, aiming’s turning out to be kind of a pain in the – butt,” he hastily corrected himself, looking over at Verne.”
“I know what an ass is,” Verne said blandly.
“You’re also a bit young to be using that terminology for the body part it refers to,” Doc scolded. “No swearing, if only for your mother’s sake.”
“Okay, okay – but yeah, it is pretty hard,” Verne admitted, gesturing to his latest attempt, stuck in the outer ring of the target. “You think it’s all lined up, and then BAM! Off to the side.”
“Yeah, exactly – I’ve been trying to close one eye, and that seems to help a little, but...” Marty shrugged. “It’s tough going.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll get it eventually,” George said, tone encouraging if still slightly confused. “With enough practice.”
“And it’s not like anyone here needs to be perfect – I may as well leave the instructors at the camp something to do,” Doc added. He looked at his bow, then at George with a little grin. “While you’re here, though – care to give it a go?”
“Do you want one of us to end up in the hospital?”
“Come on, Dad,” Marty wheedled, offering his bow and quiver. “I’ve been doing this a while – worst that happens is the arrow just falls to the ground.”
“...all right, but just one shot,” George caved, heading over and accepting the bow and an arrow. “So – how do you do this?”
“All right – you line the arrow up like this,” Doc told him, helping him manuever it into position. “You don’t want it directly on the bow string, just resting against it...and then you hold the bow up like so...draw it taught – you want the bow to flex, not the string...now you line the fletching up with your cheekbone – yup like that...get a sense of your target...and – release!”
twaaang! The arrow flew straight and true, and with a THUNK! buried itself right into the bullseye. The four stared for a long moment. “...you should have taken the archery classes,” Marty finally said.
“...yeah, maybe I should have,” George admitted, blinking. He shook his head. “Anyway – book stuff?”
---
I came up with this pretty much immediately after doing the original archery fic for Christmas -- I thought it would be a fun follow-up, and I was eager to get George involved somehow since I know he's your favorite character. Thus why he gets a beginner's luck bullseye at the end there. Which hopefully makes up for all the torment I put him through at wilderness camp. XD Sorry, George -- I think I had the horrible trips from Calvin & Hobbes in mind while writing that bit -- along with the horrible summer camp Wednesday and Pugsley ended up attending in Addams Family Values. :p Anyway, hope you enjoy, Moose!
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---
“...what the hell.”
“Hey, that’s what I said!”
Doc snorted and lowered his bow, turning to look at his latest visitor. “Hello, George – what brings you by?”
“I wanted to ask you if you’d mind checking this new invention I thought up for for my next book for accuracy – but now I want to know what’s going on here,” George McFly said, looking from Doc, to the target, to Marty and Verne standing in front of it.
“Dad’s giving us archery lessons!” Verne told him, beaming and bouncing on the soles of his feet. “Before I go to wilderness camp in July!”
“Wilderness camp? You’re willingly going to one of those?”
“It was his idea,” Doc said, raising an eyebrow. “Well, after hearing me go on about my own boyhood summers spent in one or another...I take it your experiences with them have been less pleasant?”
“My parents forced me to go to one when I was eleven, and it was the worst summer of my life,” George said with feeling, pulling a face. “The very first night, it rained so hard that my tent got soaked all the way through and refused to dry out. And when I tried starting a fire, I could not get the wood to catch – the counselor had to do it for me in the end. And then I fell off the pier when we were practicing lifesaving and nearly actually drowned. And that was just the first three days!”
“Wow,” Verne said, eyes wide. “You didn’t mention anything like that happening to you, Dad.”
“Well, I’ve never fallen off a pier, and while it took me a while to start my first fire, I did manage it,” Doc told him – then, figuring honesty was the best policy, he added, “But I have had my fair share of unpleasantly rainy days in the woods. Don’t worry, though – I’ve already procured for you the most waterproof tent I can find.”
“Give him a life jacket too – just in case,” George suggested, before turning his attention back to the target. “So, guessing you signed him up for the archery classes.”
“I did indeed – mostly because I mentioned participating in them myself when I was younger, and Verne immediately decided he had to as well.”
“I gotta beat your record,” Verne said, giving him a big grin.
“Oh, that’ll be easy – I don’t remember what it was,” Doc grinned back, using his free hand to ruffle the fur on Verne’s favorite coonskin cap. He groaned and took it off to smooth it. “Do you have any horror stories about that class?”
“No – only because Mom thought, rightly, that it wasn’t a good idea to make me shoot anything sharp through the air,” George replied, deadpan. “I could be a bit of a klutz before Lorraine straightened me out...so that explains Verne, but – why are you doing this, Marty?” he added in the direction of his son. “You’re a bit old to be attending the camp.”
“Just looked like fun when I saw Doc brushing up,” Marty shrugged. “Granted, aiming’s turning out to be kind of a pain in the – butt,” he hastily corrected himself, looking over at Verne.”
“I know what an ass is,” Verne said blandly.
“You’re also a bit young to be using that terminology for the body part it refers to,” Doc scolded. “No swearing, if only for your mother’s sake.”
“Okay, okay – but yeah, it is pretty hard,” Verne admitted, gesturing to his latest attempt, stuck in the outer ring of the target. “You think it’s all lined up, and then BAM! Off to the side.”
“Yeah, exactly – I’ve been trying to close one eye, and that seems to help a little, but...” Marty shrugged. “It’s tough going.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll get it eventually,” George said, tone encouraging if still slightly confused. “With enough practice.”
“And it’s not like anyone here needs to be perfect – I may as well leave the instructors at the camp something to do,” Doc added. He looked at his bow, then at George with a little grin. “While you’re here, though – care to give it a go?”
“Do you want one of us to end up in the hospital?”
“Come on, Dad,” Marty wheedled, offering his bow and quiver. “I’ve been doing this a while – worst that happens is the arrow just falls to the ground.”
“...all right, but just one shot,” George caved, heading over and accepting the bow and an arrow. “So – how do you do this?”
“All right – you line the arrow up like this,” Doc told him, helping him manuever it into position. “You don’t want it directly on the bow string, just resting against it...and then you hold the bow up like so...draw it taught – you want the bow to flex, not the string...now you line the fletching up with your cheekbone – yup like that...get a sense of your target...and – release!”
twaaang! The arrow flew straight and true, and with a THUNK! buried itself right into the bullseye. The four stared for a long moment. “...you should have taken the archery classes,” Marty finally said.
“...yeah, maybe I should have,” George admitted, blinking. He shook his head. “Anyway – book stuff?”
---
I came up with this pretty much immediately after doing the original archery fic for Christmas -- I thought it would be a fun follow-up, and I was eager to get George involved somehow since I know he's your favorite character. Thus why he gets a beginner's luck bullseye at the end there. Which hopefully makes up for all the torment I put him through at wilderness camp. XD Sorry, George -- I think I had the horrible trips from Calvin & Hobbes in mind while writing that bit -- along with the horrible summer camp Wednesday and Pugsley ended up attending in Addams Family Values. :p Anyway, hope you enjoy, Moose!