Sheets (Ghosts?) Of The Night
October 29, 1952
Well, it's another exciting night at the 4077th. We're just off of a twenty-eight hour O.R. session. I went through five shifts of nurses, and would like to go through them again, and again, and again, and again...
"Ah, good morning, Bigelow. How are your ten magic fingers today?"
"Excuse me? It sounded like you just said good evening."
"I did, Doctor."
"Oh, no no no. It was evening yesterday. It has to be morning now."
We were just into our seventeenth (or was it eighteenth?) hour when our Lebanese draftee came in with new surgical gowns and a face to match.
Corporal Klinger slammed the door to the operating room. "Okay, I got your robes. But I ain't going out there again!"
"Ain't," sighed Charles Emerson Winchester III...never forget the III. "The layman's trifle attempt at an abbreviation."
Klinger tossed the gowns to Nurse Kellye. "Do you want to know what I saw?" he asked.
"No," the O.R. chorused in unison.
"A ghost?" demanded Margaret Houlihan.
"Klinger, have you been sniffing the ether? Suction," Hawkeye Pierce instructed Bigelow.
"I believe those dreadful pieces of film passing of movies have taken over his mind," said Charles. "What was that award-winner" (he scoffed) "last night? Vampire Bats from Arizona?"
"No, that was Thursday's," said B.J. Hunnicutt. "Last night's was Cat People."
"No," interrupted Colonel Sherman Potter, "Wednesday's was Cat People. Last night's was...Radar, what was last night's movie?"
"I don't know, sir," answered the corporal. "I was too busy closing my eyes."
"Didn't anyone hear me?" shouted Klinger.
"Yes," Margaret snapped. "I think that Halloween has caused Klinger to blow ordinary events out of proportion."
"Give the boy some credit," said Colonel Potter. "Let him state his case."
"Thank you, sir," Klinger said.
"And then we can tell him that he's blowing things out of proportion. Go on, Klinger."
Klinger stood up straighter, as if he were about to deliver an important monologue. "Dusk. As I exit the supply tent, a figure steps in front of me. I pause. Is it a spy? An invader from Planet Zilinhammer? A vampire bat?"
"On with it, Hamlet," Hawkeye called.
"But no! It is...a ghost!"
"Brilliant deduction," commented Charles dryly. "Retraction."
"IT WAS A GHOST!" Klinger insisted.
"I'm not surprised. Your voice is loud enough to wake the dead."
The staff turned to glare at Charles.
"Purely proverbial," he added quickly.
"Fine. Ignore me." Klinger turned and stomped into the changing room. "Wait until you see the white thing. Then you'll come crying to me--'Klinger, I saw it!' 'Klinger, I believe you!' But will I believe them? Ohhhhh no..."
...so we either have a stray sheet roaming the camp or a resident ghost.
My irritable bunkmates are complaining that my light is in their eyes. I'd better get a restful two-hour nap before the next deluge.
Your ever-tired son,
B.F. ("eye of the hawk") Pierce
As Hawkeye turned off his lights and B.J. and Charles muttered "thank-you"s, no one looked outside to see the white figure floating past the swamp.
Of course, if they would have, it would have been dismissed as a sheet.
A/N: Well...more random. It came to me...as many things do. Did you like it? Did you hate it? If you hated it, constructive criticism is appreciated. (NOTE: constructive.)