This is a three-shot ;) I had written this because I felt like it, and it doesn't fit within the timeline of Shirts of Green, so I thought I would just put it in separately. Hubert and Hoyden are charged with the duty of following up an anonymous tip. But due to several factors, a large one being Hubert himself, they end up biting off much more than they can chew ;) I hope you enjoy it! This isn't a very serious fic, but I don't think I'd call it crack….let me know if it should be!
Sunday. 12:30 PM. Ice cream truck in sight. In pursuit.
Sunday. 12:30 PM. Ice cream truck in sight. In pursuit.
"Not to close! They'll notice us."
"No they won't, were in stealth mode. Undetectable by modern forces such as eyeballs."
"White, we're in a bright yellow mini cooper. Stealth is not an option in this car. Besides, I'm fairly positive that the correct distance for undercover surveillance is three car lengths. We're right behind them!"
Hubert sighed and tapped the side of the steering wheel, allowing himself to slow down a bit and let another car in front of them. It was true that he tended to get a little over zealous with stalking missions, and it was also true that his car was anything but under the radar. Unfortunately, two males in a mini cooper was also a bit unheard of. But Hubert was all about the unheard of.
"Fine, have it your way. We will play on the safe side, never mixing the peanut butter and jelly, not letting the vegetables touch the meat, avoiding sunlight without SPF30. Or, we can live on the edge, and pursue these violent criminals, come to a stellar conclusion and wrap everything up with a silver ribbon and be on our merry way to collect our awards and praise," Hubert held is hand in the air philosophically. "But, no. Because you, Hoyden, always choose the former. And one of these days, I will switch my tactics up, and lead with the daring decision."
"Well, excuse me if I prefer to not be sunburned and/or dead with a bullet lodged somewhere in my frontal lobe. We aren't tailing an ice cream truck, this is the real deal," Hoyden sighed out his nose and cocked his head. "Okay well, maybe it is an ice cream truck. But it's not a real ice cream truck. Those are dangerous, cold people in that car. And I'm sure they will notice us if you keep hunching over the steering wheel like an excitable howler monkey."
Hubert frowned, trying to recall and instance wherein a howler monkey was allowed to drive any car, least of all excitably. Finding no such time, he shook his head. "There are several things wrong with that statement. One, howler monkeys do not drive. Two, they aren't indigenous to this particular stunning area of Long Island and three, they will not notice us."
"That wasn't several things, that was only three things. And two of them involved an irrelevant metaphor I used to prove my point." Hoyden grumbled and lifted his legs onto the dash board, electing to play the role of fairly uninterested teammate. This didn't fool Hubert in the least, partly because every five minutes, Hoyden would have a near aneurism and demand that Hubert slow down approximately ten miles.
"I don't understand why you aren't driving. And the monkey thing was a simile and not a metaphor. You said 'like' a howler monkey. It was a comparison using like or as. I mean really, third grade logic."
"Well I'm sorry. God are you like this with everyone? How can anyone have a conversation with you it's like going into a job interview with a freakish literary snob." Hoyden leaned to the side to look past the van in front of them, trying to catch a glimpse of the ice cream truck. "Get in the left hand turn lane. They're turning."
Hubert clicked on the signal and moved to the side lane, once again arriving behind the large refrigerated truck with the leering clown face on the back. Looking down the road, he could see what the locals mainly referred to as the business corner. There were plenty of large, executive looking buildings with wall to wall windows and small dainty secretaries that darted from one desk to another. Not that Hubert could see these secretaries, but his overly active imagination could sense them.
"Why did the general send us for this?" Hoyden asked, peering down the road with a clear agitation in his voice. "It's not like I've had any experience whatsoever with intelligence missions. And we all know that although you act like you're good at everything in the world, stealth and undercover operations are not one of those few strengths you actually do have."
"Stop being a wet sponge! We're not even undercover. We're just tailing someone and we are to report back what we find and that's the end of it. We don't even have to remove ourselves from this vehicle. We could be surgically attached to these fabulous leather seats!"
Approximately eleven hours ago, the two reasonably new greenshirts had been called into General Hawk's office. Apparently, there had been lingering rumors of cobra activity in the small stretch of Long Island. Not enough to warrant a full frontal attack, or even a small scale intelligence mission. General Hawk had made it very clear to Hubert that he would not have been asked to do this if he had any other choice. Nearly all of the Joes had been called to a sudden outbreak in the middle of Kansas. Hubert had paid enough attention to know it involved some scheme involving a wheat field and large amount of cows. In fact, he had spent quite a large amount of time speculating on what the commander could possibly want to do with such a grandiose accumulation of cows. He soon came to the conclusion that he would have been better off not knowing. In lieu of the lack of Joes, Hubert and Hoyden had been assigned the task of tailing a possibly violent ice cream truck through the city.
Of course, Hubert had questioned the legitimacy of an ice cream cobra scheme, but then decided that the man was enough of a lunatic to try turning fudge bars into some sort of terrifying, fudgy mess of death and massacre. Hubert also questioned the tip. It had been anonymous, and Hubert watched enough day time television to understand that anonymous tips were normally dangerous and would lead to multiple blunt force trauma wounds and possibly a fractured humorous. However, once Hubert was given a duty, by George, Hubert would follow through to the end! If the tip turned out to be false, he would still get some ice cream out of it. His experience with ice cream truck drivers had always been pleasant, and he was sure that unless the driver was rabid or decaying, that he would be honored to bestow a frosted treat unto Hubert.
"Look, they're pulling in. Slow down and see if they go in." Hoyden dropped his legs back to the floor and leaned forward, getting as close to the window as was possible.
"I know what to do when the subject stops," Hubert sighed, slowing down enough to roll past the parking lot at the speed of an asthmatic old woman. He looked at Hoyden. "Shouldn't we have binoculars or…other spy things? I feel as though we're highly under budgeted. After all, we weren't even given gas money. This must not be a priority case."
Hubert watched as three men emerged from the back of the truck, releasing the cool wispy air out into the hot day. The men were large, bulky and angry looking with several tattoos and facial hair that rivaled that of an unkempt lion. When Hubert picked ice cream salesmen, he did not picture these men. He pictured people who were rotund and jolly, perhaps mirroring characteristics of Santa Claus. Not these frightening looking people.
"I really can't believe that ice cream would be so heavy that they would have to hire muscle like that," Hoyden said, attempting to stealthily look out of the corner of his eye. "What do you think those boxes have in them? I don't think its ice cream."
"I don't think so either…and I can't believe we have actually stumbled onto an actual case! This is fascinating, look at us! We are just like Scooby and Shaggy in their prime. Crime solvers, military men, snappy dressers. I feel so accomplished. Do you think I could get a badge for the most efficiently confirmed tip? Does GI Joe give out badges? They should, badges are excellent motivators."
"Would you shut up? We aren't done yet! We don't know for sure, I mean they really could be very unusual ice cream carriers." Hoyden sighed and waved his hands forward. "Park a few blocks down. We'll walk in. Play it cool. This building is a lawyer firm...or at least that's what it says. For all we know there could be dozens of vipers in there…" Hoyden blinked. "Should we call it in? Go back to base and let the general decide what to do from here?"
Hubert gave Hoyden a very withered look. "There you go again. Live a little, let candles burn overnight buddy. We can handle this on our own! All we need to do is to go into that building and find those boxes and open them and find out what's inside them! Then we'll know for sure. It will be the operation of a lifetime. I already have our cover. You see, I had a dog, correct? And you ran over my dog with your dinky little yellow car and now I'm suing you for all your worth."
"This is your dinky little yellow car! And what lawyer would even think about taking on that case! You're ridiculous. We're calling in." Hoyden slipped open his phone as Hubert pressed the gas pedal down, resuming his average driving speed and swinging around the corner to parallel park. "And besides, I'm pretty sure I'm worth more than a dog. I'm not worthless."
"Okay," Hubert put the vehicle into park and paused before turning to face Hoyden. "Do you realize that if we go in there and show we're capable of handling ourselves that we will be a shoo in for the Joe program! There won't be anything in that building, it's broad daylight!" Hoyden gave him a dubious look. "Okay maybe the fact that its light has no bearing on activity within the building but we can do this! Dammit, Hoyden I am giving you a very emotional speech right now filled with fervor and motivation and you are going to put down that phone and remove yourself from my car and we are going to walk down there and ask for some frozen delicacies!"
Hoyden blinked. "You really exhaust me, you know?" The phone slid back into his pocket and Hoyden sighed heavily. "Alright, I guess you have a point. But if we're going to do this I'm laying down some ground rules. At the first touch of danger, we run. Not jog, not walk briskly, but run. If we get caught, you take the fall for everything that went wrong. If we are forced to shoot each other, I demand you shoot me in my left arm."
"Those are all oddly specific terms and conditions. But I readily accept. Don't worry, my friend. This will go perfectly planned. I will execute this with extreme precision. And you will stand by and watch my magic happen." Hubert got out of the car and locked it, taking a moment to straightened his jacket and slip on a pair of sunglasses. He knew he was virtually unknown, but he also knew better than to take the risk of identification.
"I don't want to witness any of your magic, Hubert. Mathematical, operational, or otherwise."
Hubert and Hoyden begin their adventure. I'm sure they'll run into trouble. Or maybe they won't? Hmmm….
Thanks for reading!