The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #59418   Message #3803628
Posted By: Rapparee
04-Aug-16 - 09:41 PM
Thread Name: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
Subject: RE: BS: The Mother of all BS threads
The door opened suddenly and a man dressed in black, complete with balaclava, entered. He carried a pale gray MP7A2 in a holster on his hip.

"West! You foul-mouth and minded, caluminous, wrangling, poor, unhappy knave! You are the most needless creature living! What is this crew of patches, these rude mechanicals, these common recreations you have brought? Speak, Lord Lackbeard, you whoreson malt-horse drudge!"

Nigel brightened and responded, "Younker! You old rotten medlar, you minimus, you scall, scurvy, cogging, cozening, you whoreson cullionly barbermonger, you politician! How the hell are you?"

And they embraced only as old comrades who have faced death together can.

In a moment they broke and General West said, "Ladies, let me introduce a rogue and peasant slave, but a brave man none the less, Colonel Sir James James, late of Her Majesty's Special Boat Service, VC, and all that."

"James James?" queried Penelope. "The James James?"

"Indeed, madam," James replied, and made a small bow. "Have you heard of me?"

"No, but if I had I would remember such a name."

"My parents were great fans of A. A. Milne and thought it a great honor to give me my name." He winced and said, "It's been more of a curse. 'Jim-Jim' and 'Jimmy-Jim' and other nicknames."

"You know Shakespeare," observed Chinga.

"Yes, Lit. D. Oxenford and all that. I hope you haven't read my dissertation, as it's quite the most boring and outlandish thing ever written."

West interrupted. "So, you base muleter, why did you come?"

"I thought you might like to know that an ice boat has been reported and will close with us in..." he looked at his watch "...fifteen minutes."

"WHAT?!" exclaimed Nigel, rising from his chair.

"It's under control, sir. In approximately five minutes it will enter the minefield. The fougasse should make it look like a terrible accident, so sorry and all that."

Nigel lowered himself again. "You dunghill groom! You had me going there! Anyway, could you provide quarters for these lovely ladies? Their baggage should be unloaded by now."

"Of course, good ticklebrain!"

There was a beep from his breast pocket and voice said, "Done, Colonel. No survivors. Earlier than we expected as they sped up about a hundred meters before the mines."

He touched his pocket and replied, "Did they get a message off?"

The voice said, "None detected on any band."

James said, "Good job. Thank you. Send out a disposal party and replace whatever needs replacing." He opened the door again and said, "Sergeant, please show these ladies to their quarters. Ladies, if you will? Please follow Sergeant Smythe and let him know if you need anything."

After they left, James turned to West and said, "That's not the first time the Sorry Paling crowd has sent someone out this way."

"Have they twigged?" asked Nigel.

"We don't think so, no. We think they're just expendables sent out to look around." He smiled. "Some make it back, some don't. Treacherous place, the Chukchi Sea. Ice packs and flows and danger of all sorts. Oh, yes! We're getting along fine with the Russians. We don't bother them, etc."

"We'll have to take out that Paling crowd fairly soon."

"Yes. We're just about ready. Two or three more days at the most."