Mouser
02-27-2007, 01:57 PM
Steve stood in line for the phone and looked at his watch.
Each soldier got five minutes and his turn was in another fifteen.
He looked at his watch again, then shook his wrist. The watch wasn't broken. Einstein was right. Time was slowing.
He was too far away to hear Dave, the first soldier in line, talking dirty to his girlfriend.
Then he listened to Rich reassure his mom that he was going to be all right.
Then Miguel told his father in Columbian-accented Spanish that he was going to become a citizen really soon and that he would never come back and work in the cocaine fields ever again and would he please stop sending letters pleading to him because he was sure they were reading his mail.
Steve sighed and looked at his watch again.
Then he looked behind him at the long line of soldiers and sighed again. They wouldn't understand, so he'd better make it look good. Now it was his turn.
Steve walked up to the phone and looked around the back of it. No extra wires he could see.
The line began to get restless.
He looked underneath and heard, "Put the money in and make your fucking phone call, Steve!!" and "The clock is ticking, dude!!" and "I wanna make my call already!!"
He straightened up and steeled himself for his first report, straightened his blouse, picked up the receiver and, without putting in any money or dialing any numbers, cupped his hand so nobody watching could see his mouth and began to speak. He spoke rapidly in a low tone, but clearly.
"This is Steve Andrews, reporting in. I can only hope you are listeneing. We found a partially masticated deer while on patrol last night. We also surprised a shirtless Sergeant Furtado while he was burying something that he claimed was his own feces. After he left, I dug it up and and found it to be his torn and bloody shirt. Also the animal tracks we found near the deer lead directly to the place where we found Sergeant Furtado. All these facts lead me to the conclusion that Sergeant Furtado is a shapeshifter of some kind, and may be responsible for the deaths on base. I still have the shirt. If he finds out that we suspect him, we may be next on his list. Please provide advice and assistance. Steve Andrews out."
Steve hung up the phone and walked away, not looking back. The jeers rang in ears for a while as he finished his reading. His ears burned with his barely concealed embarrassment.
They probably weren't listening. He felt so stupid.
But he couldn't think of anything else he might do.
Each soldier got five minutes and his turn was in another fifteen.
He looked at his watch again, then shook his wrist. The watch wasn't broken. Einstein was right. Time was slowing.
He was too far away to hear Dave, the first soldier in line, talking dirty to his girlfriend.
Then he listened to Rich reassure his mom that he was going to be all right.
Then Miguel told his father in Columbian-accented Spanish that he was going to become a citizen really soon and that he would never come back and work in the cocaine fields ever again and would he please stop sending letters pleading to him because he was sure they were reading his mail.
Steve sighed and looked at his watch again.
Then he looked behind him at the long line of soldiers and sighed again. They wouldn't understand, so he'd better make it look good. Now it was his turn.
Steve walked up to the phone and looked around the back of it. No extra wires he could see.
The line began to get restless.
He looked underneath and heard, "Put the money in and make your fucking phone call, Steve!!" and "The clock is ticking, dude!!" and "I wanna make my call already!!"
He straightened up and steeled himself for his first report, straightened his blouse, picked up the receiver and, without putting in any money or dialing any numbers, cupped his hand so nobody watching could see his mouth and began to speak. He spoke rapidly in a low tone, but clearly.
"This is Steve Andrews, reporting in. I can only hope you are listeneing. We found a partially masticated deer while on patrol last night. We also surprised a shirtless Sergeant Furtado while he was burying something that he claimed was his own feces. After he left, I dug it up and and found it to be his torn and bloody shirt. Also the animal tracks we found near the deer lead directly to the place where we found Sergeant Furtado. All these facts lead me to the conclusion that Sergeant Furtado is a shapeshifter of some kind, and may be responsible for the deaths on base. I still have the shirt. If he finds out that we suspect him, we may be next on his list. Please provide advice and assistance. Steve Andrews out."
Steve hung up the phone and walked away, not looking back. The jeers rang in ears for a while as he finished his reading. His ears burned with his barely concealed embarrassment.
They probably weren't listening. He felt so stupid.
But he couldn't think of anything else he might do.