As another Lame Cherry exclusive in matter anti matter.
We never did touch down. Hell of a way to introduce yourself to an operation though in putting heels down in a poppy field. It was the question though as Ops was telling us when asked if the LZ was hot, that they were all hot, unless it was the brain dance fields, because Terry never fought it out in the fields, as that was the rule in no one fucked with the poppy, but here we were putting boots on the flowers.
Ops though had on his Sapogi. Swore he took them off a dead Ivan, but he spew allot of shit, like telling us tales of the great wars when the spooks were on friendly terms with Terry and the Big Turban was one of the boys.
Said his boots came off a Disbat. Fucking Russians were always on parade in that shit hole. Selling their AK's for a chance to rape a sheep or keep up the perpetual opium dream.
Where we were didn't make a damn bit of difference as operations would claim we were on this side of the border, never crossed that border, never invaded that country and never violated that friendly. Hell it was all poppy up in Saigaland. It didn't make a damn bit of difference if it was some hairy eating with sticks or dipping with his fingers, they were all the same, a bunch of parasites that someone should have exterminated long ago, but they never were because of that poppy that kept the money flowing into Eurobanks.
It was always one charlie foxtrot of a shit hole and always would be. Rules were all the same. There would be no dust off as we were the fob. The fobbits were long behind us with the geardos under the fast movers. Here it was just us and the jungle jim.
We were unofficial, because we were always unofficial. That is how things got done. Do a favor of haji and haji's favor was replacing the ratfuck with an IED. Never was a tango mike as all they ever were thankful for was how big the money dump was.
Could hear some tic in the distance. Willy Pete was auditioning to lume the landscape and Ops was saying grace over some joes going kinetic giving a spotlight to us. But what the hell, most of us when we bought it got a toe tag for Mum to hang on the wall which said something like, "Bukshee was not such good business, but be sure to enjoy the paper business as chumly would have wanted it that way."
We were horsing it up the Saiga. It was all Saiga, but it was man love thursday, and we meant to attend prayers, as that is what the man eaters said. A catch and snatch in this big howdy, as this was all keystone according to the big haji back at 1600 Penn, so nothing was hot, except the kara kush kept dropping the teds on us. Godblessed flaps back in the states doing the hawkeye on us, and always some trinket wearer looking to get the Obama medal for taking out the bad dope dealers. Haji had the IED's and we had the teds in the tows.
Always wait for haji to take a piss or a shit. It is one thing they do alone. Brief said the turban was clockwork orange though on the body functions and the mats. Hit the shit though on time and did the extract. It was all tak tochno.
Xiao didi was there waiting in no man's land. Little brother was the cover that this was not us. This was the guito who knew all the shit. Everyone there knew it was going to be a magic act except the glans head.
This was supposed to be the big story or Ops would not have had us dining at the Ritz. It was theme park now in the no mans. We never got the green light go at the dance, but this one was the last waltz, so we all knew the damn lie being fed us. Someone was being fed china doll ass, to have the curtain go up later, to grab the diaosi and make them parrot.
There were no trees in the hinters. Didn't want trees. Plenty of caves but they were like echo chambers when we got the bird to sing. Last thing we needed was haji being rabbit and we not having smoke and mirrors.
Always make the birds sing in the mud huts as it absorbs the bird calls. Came with the real floor act as types only appreciated. Genuine German steel all around in the gambrel hung from the main pole. Always accommodating with dirt floors so the X could be crossed. Hooks through the wrists and hooks through the Achilles. That always made them sweat in the education. The librarian was always checking out the books.
The librarian knew the secrets of metals in the sharper they were the more they burned like hell. Hell was stoked as the parrot was singing and we had to get it right on the confirm as Ali Baba had more story than there were haji.
It is always the comedy show to know what went on behind the curtain as Big Haji was taking the cred for a dead fred who went zero hour before the birdcage frogs alpha mike foxtrotted the actor.
Slipped the parrot into the last suit and gave it the four acre burial. It was all gundecked and the official blow was george jetson. It was just another day making the cross.
agtG
