Sunday, July 31, 2011
A Matter of Fiction
Of course this is a fictional story and any similarities to living or dead people I might have met is of course similar and in no way plagiarism or a recounting of my life, as I just need a break from all of this unfun stuff.
That is called a disclaimer.
Some might have called her a protege, but when..........this will be easier to tell in first person..........but when she looked into her files, she saw the Head had written down some odd things like precocious and in need of discipline.
So I made sure that my file said nice things about me, as the Prime Minister might see those things and not think well of me.
I had somehow in being related to someone, found myself in a job as a sort of intern, but more like it was someone who was not wanted to be around as everyone knew I sort of came to the place, because I had found disfavour in my relatives eyes and he wanted to get back at the Head.
It was not fun putting things in people's in boxes when all this mystery and intrigue was about, as here I was a valuable asset to my nation and no one seemed to notice all I had to offer.
Had I not shown my worth in creating a cobra venom gun..........
Oh what is cobra venom gun? Just like you don't know.
It was my stainless steel invention really to help out my employers you see. I figured out that after watching all those wild kingdom shows that you could dart things, so I thought, "Why not dart the enemies of my great nation with a two pronged missile just like Marlin Perkins was always shooting things, except mine was a pistol, was run by a quite massive blast of compressed CO2 and ran on cobra venom.
Well it wasn't cobra venom and only creme, but it really worked nice on plastic water cooler containers........and I found it made the Head's big butted wife jump quite high as I accidentally, mind you had that fang gun go off.
It was all an accident really, but no one seemed to believe me after that little episode of my........ah correcting my file which the Head found in need of discipline even more.
I really thought I was in trouble when two nice gentlemen took me in a car to the airport, as I thought I was being sent home.....but instead I found myself on a heavy bound for Africa.
I didn't know I was bound for Africa until I arrived, but Africa was not at all like those old Mutual of Omaha Wild Kingdom things I had been watching while filing in box things.
Africa is............well it stinks a great deal like humid people and other things quite heavy. At least it did at the station I was assigned to, and to my great delight for the first time was informed I was going to get to test my fang gun, which the number one there was not quite enamoured with the idea of.
My job was to go out and find a cobra, milk it and test my gun on some gazelle. I knew nothing of cobra cowboying or milking, and I protested that I did not even have a license.
None of that seemed to matter, and I was shown the door and told to file some report if I survived.
So there I was a government employee in Africa which did not look like the movies, and it was a great deal wetter, hotter and there were nothing but people around.
I instead found another door to what I think was a brothel or something, but it did have food and gallons of what I now knew was what Africa smelled like in millet beer.
African beer is............interesting in you drink it and it ferments a second time in your intestines, so you end up in a several day drunk on one intoxication.
It was here I met my new friend, as she told me we were friends. I could not pronounce her name that well, as she was this French Russian kind of woman, and that was just as well, as I soon found out she liked sticking stilettos into men.
Yes knives and heals.
I just called her Lady G, and she asked me why with a frown, and I said, "Because you are French and remind me a guillotine".
She laughed, said we were friends and it not she would have had to killed me for insulting her. It was not an insult, but the truth.
I really did not know what this woman from Indochina was doing in west Africa, but people left me alone and the owners never made me pay for anything while I was there, so G and I got along fine.
I told her my dilemma in having this cobra venom fang gun and had to test it on some animal I did not have a license for, but I could not see how I would complete my assignment as there were not cobras or gazelles about the place, just all these Africans.
She said she would help, and next thing I knew a Range Rover was honking outside and G said it was time for safari and off we went.
The driver was name Mbob or something like that, but he could not drive worth a damn as he kept going off the road, not that it made no difference as the road or the bush was just as rough at 50 miles an hour.
We honest to God did find a cobra, or G said it was cobra, but it was instead a boomslang, Boom means "tree" in African and "slang" means snake in Swahili so it was a tree snake, but we fished it out of the crapper at a village where he chief was not impressed in having a dangerous toilet.
Mbob took the danger out of it in chopping off the head...........to which I puzzled how one would get more venom with a dead snake..
G assured me that I would have enough venom for my test as she had seen a boomslang bite a woman picking gourds and she dropped like a rock.
A big celebration was held in our honor and G assured me the more beer I drank the bigger the gazelle the chief would fetch up for the hunt tomorrow in the test.
I recall being in the jeep. I recall G screaming something in French about Mbob being drunk and falling out of the jeep as he was driving.........and I remember G jumping over the seat and yelling out, "Find your own way home you drunken bastard", and then I went to sleep........for two days it seems.
I remember next dreaming in Spanish and I thought, "This is odd to be in Africa and dreaming in Spanish", and then I slitted my eyes and peaked out to see a group of males pointing at me and talking.
They said I was good looking, so that was a compliment, but what they were saying next was more like threats.
Now for this fictional story, some might think this was Angola and Castro's mercenaries were there, but as I was not supposed to be in Angola, it was just me dreaming in Spanish.
I knew I was in trouble in my dream as I was a long way from home, and a long way closer to getting gang raped and fed to some lions........oh yes I did hear a lion in the background.......I really was in real Africa finally.
It was blessed bleating hot too.
About that time, I remembered G, because I saw her coming out of a sheet metal shed........well it was the officer's quarters and she was chattering on in Russian to this Cuban.
Near as I could tell, as I did not speak Russian that good back then, as I only had picked up what I knew from G, was that G was with the directorate on loan from Andropov for a tour of African allies.
I thought, "This is just great. Here I am captured by a damn Russian and the best I can hope for is to disappear in some gulag in Siberia..........and I hate the damn cold worse than the damn heat!"
I decided then to die or die fighting, even if all I had was a pocket knife and a lighter........oh yes my cobra fang gun thing too.
G pointed at me and motioned me over, so I got out hoping the AK's the guards had were lethal as I knew being shot and raped was nothing I wanted to experience.......the plan was shot and dead.
So I walked over and G introduced me as Comrade...............er ah, I will call myself in this dream, Comrade Anna Karenina.
Everyone was impressed and I was impressed G had not captured me. She went on to explain about the cobra fang gun, to which the Cubans were most impressed.
Odd is it not what eh, that none of my superiors wanted anything to do with my invention, and here there commies were thrilled at the mystery of it all.
I produced the fang gun with a great deal of fanfare, demonstrated it and was told by G to point it at some very mean looking communist............so I did.
G then took the fang gun and pointed it around and teased the colonel with it and he laughed. She then handed it to the colonel who pointed it at that big mean looking communist and I about dropped when it went off.
No kidding here, in this dream, the gun went off, hit that big commie right in the tit region and he dropped in his tracks.........just twitching a bit and then it was all done.
All hell broke loose in camp Cuba. The colonel looked white and everyone else was sweating.
I knew something very bad was going to happen to me, but G walked over and pulled out the fang missile and announced that, "The colonel would not be required to hunt us up an antelope as the test was successful"l, and then she walked over and kissed him on the cheeks and added, "Comrade Andropov would be most pleased in his assistance and to expect a nice bottle of vodka on May day."
G grabbed me and walked me over to the jeep and off we went. I just looked at her without blinking for miles.........well I blinked, but I know I got sand in my mouth.
"We'll pull over here and have a nice picnic as you look like you need a little something", G said, "as I presume they will probably want us back to blame us to Comrade Fidel"..........and of course they did as trucks.......well two trucks came down the road in about ten minutes hot on our trail, but the Rover was in the wait a bit and G was carving bleu cheese with her stiletto and I was sipping champagne.
I never thought until later that she stabbed perverts with that knife and here I was eating cheese off it.
It was probably too much taking place as G informed me she hated Cubans from her time in Vietnam. She never explained, but she just hated them and as she had never killed one, she thought she would kill two birds with one stone in helping me on my assignment as no poor animal should die, including me in the test, so I guess it would be three..........in any event, the mean communist was the dead one and the gazelle spared.
She apologized in breaking my gun, as I did not know what the devil she was nattering on about, she said she filed the sear off in the trigger and knew with the safety off that the gun would go off......and that meant the comrade would kill the communist for the test.
It took two days to get back and one very deep pig hole I had to dig the Rover out of, but at least I was somewhat alive and safe back among beer smells.
I filed my report and the station turned pale like the colonel in reading it, and soon those two nice suits showed up and took me back home.
It was decided I had too much talent for intelligence, so I found a new home at defense as I was told the Falklands were a nice warm and quiet place.
Oh I know you want to know what happened to the fang gun. It was "confiscated" but I did hear through channels another head found it quite "Bond" and put it on display in a case.
They still owe me for the meals at that whore bar.
agtG