Author: hippiechick2112 PM
It hasn't been a day yet and Klinger already had another plan to escape to Toledo. If he hasn't been hanging out with Father Mulcahy so much, he probably wouldn't have one of his most ridiculous schemes yet. Part eight of "The Klinger Chronicles".Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor - M. Klinger - Words: 1,384 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 1 - Published: 11-17-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8712076
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Note and Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own the storylines and characters of M*A*S*H (as always, yada, yada, yada) and the song lyrics below. However, this is just another chapter of "The Klinger Chronicles" that I hope you all enjoy…
You'll be my vacation
Away from this place
You know what I want
Holding that cup,
It's pouring over the sides
You make me wanna
Spread my arms and fly
Oh chariot, your golden waves
Are walking down upon this face
Oh, chariot, I'm singing out loud
To guide me
Give me your strength, chariot
Yesterday, you know, I came up with another escape plan before the Mess Tent food started competing with the care package my mother sent me. And that was a race for smell, mind you. No, this time, Soon Lee won't be involved in getting me to Toledo because I confessed to being the enemy. Nobody has been complaining about unusual things going on in the camp. There isn't any more passes to Tokyo or packages in the mail coming from a company selling hang gliders or hula-hoops. Nope, this time, Klinger the Genius has a better plan, much more so than whispering dresses and windy mountains.
Sometimes, I saw Father Mulcahy when I wanted somebody to talk to, just like everybody else does. However, after dressing up like Moses with his Ten Commandments and then seeing him, I had come up with a better idea. This time, though, the Army would think that I'm either nuts or let me go free, depending on if they catch me or not.
Now, Father Mulcahy has been reading through the Holy Bible lately and I've been following along with him when I can. He's been on the part of the prophet thingee called Ezekiel. Now, this guy has it all, I guess. He was exiled because he was Jewish (well, Father Mulcahy was nervous and guessing he was Jewish, although telling me that he was surely Christian), he had a wife and no children and he was wise, telling people about the future. Now, he became a prophet because he saw God driving in a chariot with four cherubs (whatever they are) driving God Almighty home. After that, he predicted the fall of Jerusalem and it happened about five years after he said it would. He also said that a new temple would "rise up" and it did, being built from the ashes and all.
My plan now? Well, I've been building up a chariot and making an outfit like Ezekiel's (even if I'm not God, or this war would not have existed). My chariot pieces have been hidden under my cot where our Chief of Chiefs, Colonel Potter, cannot sniff it out, like my cheese and garlic care package. They've been put together completely once, but the problem is finding some cherubs or something like that to pull it along past the M.P.'s. However, with the amount of animals here, it won't be an issue.
A little help with the clothing also came from Father Mulcahy, who showed me pictures in the Bible. Since then, I've been sewing robes and putting together a wig. However, the remains of the beautiful Klinger Collection are few and far between, since most of it is now buried in the shell-shocked grounds of North Korea. Not to mention…sneaking into people's tents at night and stealing little piece of their hair is difficult, especially when putting it all together and dyeing it white.
I haven't been clipping hair from Colonel Potter and Major Winchester, though. The former will wake up and ask me what in blazes I was doing in his tent. The latter has barely any hair on his little, snobbish head and would notice if any were missing.
However, as I sit here in my outer office, dreaming of freedom at this midnight hour as I put together the final touches of my costume and chariot (knowing that some fat pigs and chickens are grazing at Rosie's), I heard some footsteps outside. I know that I'm not imaging things, so I'm trying as hard as I could to get these things back hidden (especially the outfit), where they belong, but I am too late. In comes Major Winchester, shivering from the autumn air that turned from hot to chilly within a week.
Major Winchester sees what I am doing immediately and sighs with frustration, knowing that all of us are too heathen for his tastes, even little old me. "Klinger, when are you going to learn that your escape attempts are futile, as well as churlish?"
I was confused by Major Winchester's wording, which made him sigh again. He knew when he was going over my head with his intellect.
"They're pointless and boorish," Major Winchester corrected himself.
"Oh, so I'm the nutcase who has no point in going home and is impolite to others?" I asked him. "Well, I'm sorry, Major Windbag, I'm desperate to go home. Toledo is calling my name and –"
"How dare you, you little pipsqueak?!" Major Winchester yelled (and he wasn't one for pulling rank really). "You dare insult one of Boston's most –"
"Oh, will you two can it down in there?" Major Houlihan suddenly comes in, also sighing when she sees me and my chariot by the doors in her sight. "Klinger, when are you going to stop this nonsense?!"
"It's for a costume party," I lied immediately. "Remember that Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt are the Morale Officers and that they're planning on having a party? Well, that's as much as they let out."
Major Houlihan looks skeptical to me. "Yeah…"
"Yeah, well, it's a costume party with all the booze you can drink. Raffle starts at nine, tickets will be sold until an hour before the drawing."
"And what's the prize?" Major Houlihan puts one hand on his hip and the other one is rubbing her chin in a thoughtful gesture.
"If I tell you, it wouldn't be much of a party, would it?" I winked, as if this was all a secret and that both captains were planning this.
However, Major Houlihan was not convinced just yet. "I'll talk with them later about this. I also think Colonel Potter should know about your costume. In the meantime, can you two shut it and let the patients sleep in peace?"
Luckily, Major Houlihan leaves without us answering her, letting me and old Major Winchester to talk alone again.
"So, I somehow have to tell the guys in the Swamp that this was their morale booster," I lamented softly, throwing my hands in the air and sitting back down on my cot and kicking my chariot (which, by the way, hurt my foot). "I'll never get back to Toledo!"
"Well, I think I can…well, take care of that." Major Winchester's blue eyes sparkled with a devious plan.
"Jeez, Major Genius, how are we going to accomplish that?" I was frustrated enough as it was, knowing that Major Houlihan was going to call me out on my lie again, but was not above insulting this office again.
"You're supposed to be the genius, Klinger. You tell me." Major Winchester, oddly enough, sits down with me and puts a reassuring arm around my shoulders as his feet were kicked up to my chariot. "However, I can do some of the brain work for you."
"You would?" I was excited once more, anticipation for Toledo coming back to me. "How? Why?"
"Oh, I have my many ways to persuade Pierce and Hunnicutt to do what I wish with a little silly blackmail. And it's on the one condition that if this little…scheme…of yours to ride a chariot out works, then you would have to take me home to Boston, where I belong."
I gulped, not knowing if the Major was joking or being serious. This is going to be a hard bargain to keep.
Thanks to Melinda and April for your encouragement. The last 2 Klinger stories are for you! xxxooo