[Alright, Susan. I’ve worked on this for a long time. For months now, it’s been my main passion, outside of worshipping you from afar. I give it to you now in the hope that it lets you discover the real me. And I hope that after you read it, we can be more than friends.
-Your soon-to-be-more-than best pal, Randy Stencil.]
It was 6 AM. The sunlight, in dazzling, exotic shades of pink and orange, was beginning to peek through the gently waving palms. Lt Col Randy Stencil, his non-regulation cargo shorts and flower print shirt doing little to hide his powerful, masculine physique, strode commandingly along the beach.
Susan, the beautiful native girl who came from a culture where physical intimacy was to be freely enjoyed and brassieres were a strange and unwelcome contrivance, still lay asleep on his cot, the shade from the palm fronds casting intricate patterns onto her bare stomach.
Hours before, Randy had wished the night would last forever. But now, the stillness of the morning, ruffled only by a breeze that lightly tickled the shoreline like a playful kiss on the thighs, seemed less a rude awakening than a heavenly consummation. And he should know, because he’d done a lot of consummating lately.
It was a perfect moment, which nothing could disturb. He noted the date, which he knew he would keep in his heart, symbolizing this moment of supreme bliss, for all time: December 7, 1941.
As Randy skipped into the general’s office, he greeted the company clerk, Titus, who was busy with his calendar.
“Oh, good morning sir! Can you believe it’s less than three weeks till Christmas? And not a snowflake on the ground! I tell ya, I just can’t get used to this here ‘Huh-why-uh.’ No doubt, this’ll be the strangest December 7th I’ve ever spent.”
Just then, the general walked in.
“Good morning, Stencil! Glad to see you! A beautiful morning, no?” Then, grinning devilishly, he whispered so that Titus couldn’t hear, “I’m looking forward to that shindig you’ve got planned for tonight. Heh heh. If it’s half as wild as the last one, this day will live in infamy!”
Randy was about to agree when the admiral burst in. “Men!” he exclaimed. “We’ve got serious business to discuss. Into the briefing room, now!”
“Yes, sir,” Randy and the general said in unison, and into the darkened room they went, to sit in front of a projector screen.
“Men,” said the admiral gravely. “I’ve wanted you both to see this for some time. It’s been a matter of concern to me for quite a while. Look.”
Preparing themselves to look at some deadly serious pictures of naval threats, Randy and the general were instead delighted to see some slides of the admiral’s cat.
“It’s my girl, Wrinkles!” he beamed. “Isn’t she cute?”
Grinning widely at the cat’s pronounced girth, the general announced, “That is one heckin’ chonker, admiral.”
In the next installment, the Japanese pay a surprise visit! (Now will you let me touch you, Susan?)
By: Ernie Tremper