These dreams are killing me, figuratively

After escaping the sinking ship, those that read yesterday’s post will know what I’m talking about,  I started thinking about the helicopter episode.

I think it had to do with the aches and pains I acquired spending an hour out in the garden trying to defeat the weeds and failing.

How did I get in that helicopter?

It’s like watching an episode of some series or other where you see the main character trapped in an exploding car, and right after the starting credits, it says ‘two days earlier’.

So, two days earlier,

 

Someone once told me it was not a good idea to ask your commander out to dinner.  Not a date, just the fact you’d like to get to know her better.

Yes, my commanding officer was a woman.

I thought the dinner went well, we found some common ground, ice hockey, and baseball, albeit barracking for different teams.  

Then, the next day when I went into ‘the office’, the operations officer called me aside.

“Who’d did you piss off?”

Good question, had I, and who?

And asked, “Who?”

“The Commanding Officer.  She asked me to put you on patrol, nothing ever happens, and it’s as boring as shit.”

Usually, I was in the front line, what they called in the army, cannon fodder.  Some said I had a death wish.

I shrugged.  “No doubt she has her reasons.  I could think of worse assignments.”

“Well, till then you’re on standby.  Make the most of it.”

 

This will no doubt change when I think about it some more.

Stay tuned.

 

© Charles Heath 2018

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