I was watching The Chosen People (s2) in which a Korean woman comes in with a baby and tells Henry one of the doctors in the outfit is the father of her child. She says his name was G.I Joe, that he talked like windsong and whatnot, and Henry goes “...Pierce and/or McIntyre.”
And slash or.
This can be interpreted in more than one way. I leave this to you, Tumblr.
Trapper McIntyre went to the Shire as a potential buyer of a dire mire which he had set on fire with a fryer and a blow dryer and now all he owned was a tire.
”No, no, you don’t get it!”
Hawkeye threw the cards over his shoulder and sighed. “What have you done with your life?”
Blinking hard, because Hawkeye had kept him up all night trying to teach him how to play gin, Trapper put his own cards down more carefully. “Why don’t we just play go fish or something?”
“Go fish?!” Hawkeye shot up from his chair, glaring at Trapper like a ferocious bulldog. “I outgrew go fish when I was five years old!”
“Then go play with Frank, I don’t care.”
“I outgrew Frank when I was in the womb.” Hawkeye leaned down to pick up the cards he’d thrown away, and as he did, kept talking. “Now listen. I’ll explain it one more time and then we’ll try again. It can’t be that hard even for someone with your IQ.”
Trapper scoffed. Hawkeye glanced at him, smiling at his own joke. “I really don’t see why it would be so hard to remember-”
Trapper shrugged. “One man’s card game is another man’s nightmare. Now if you don’t mind…” He leaned back in his cot and exhaled deeply. “…I’d like to get some sleep.”
Hawkeye straightened his back, cards in his hand, and looked at his friend with what would best be described as utter horror.
“Okay, I’ll cut the jokes about your brain capacity. Now see here-”
Trapper held up a finger, stopping him mid-sentence. “Shhhh. Nap time. Good night. Even though it’s morning – good night.”
Hawkeye took his seat in the chair he’d hardly left in the last ten hours and started shuffling the cards. Trapper winced.
“Come on, Trap”, Hawkeye begged. “Please?”
Trapper winced again, even more this time, and covered his face with his pillow. “No.”
“Please? Please, please, please, please, pleeeease?”
Trapper could hear Hawkeye moving about in the tent – kicking at dirty clothes, knocking over the teapot, his cot creaking when he sat down… Then suddenly, something hard hit Trapper across the chest and took away his breath. He jerked up, shoving the pillow away, gasping for air.
“WHAT THE-” he roared. “What was that for?”
Hawkeye was sitting on his own cot, grinning like a madman. “I fished.”
Trapper fell back into his cot and buried his face in the pillow again. “I understand why you’re single.”