title: Why Helena G. Wells isn't allowed to play Trivial Pursuit any more.
Summary: backstory to what the title says.
rating: G. or PG.
As soon as Myka picked the card up and read it to herself, she knew it would be trouble.
"Myka?" Pete asked when Myka wasn't saying anything.
"It says, 'what epitaph did H.G.Wells want on his tombstone?'" Myka said.
"Oh this' easy. Mwahahahaha."
"No, the sinister laugh's my answer."
"I never," H.G. said. "Not even Jules laughed like that."
"Verne," Myka supplied to Pete.
"I know," Pete said, who had done a bit of studying way back then, just in case H.G. had been the vanguard of an invasion force of evil authors from across time and space.
"A nice ass, but not my cup of tea," H.G. said. "Anyway, that's not what I wanted on my tombstone."
"Good point - they might run out of room after 'ass.'"
"Whereas your tombstone, Agent Lattimer, would say 'I knew I forgot something.'"
"If anyone cares," Myka said, "the card's answer is 'God Damn You All, I Told You So.'"
"What?" Pete and H.G. asked.
"If my brother wasn't dead, I'd kill him," H.G. said. "Why would he put that on my tombstone?"
"Because it sounds like you?" Pete guessed.
"Because he predicted the invention of the atom bomb," Myka said to Helena.
"He what?" H.G. asked. She blinked. "Simply because a story was published after my Bronzing, does not mean my brother wrote it."
"Methinks the lady doth protest," Pete said.
"Do you know who really wrote Shakespear?" Helena asked him.
Myka groaned, facepalming herself, and wondered if they had given up too quickly on checkers.