Lamont Gets Smooshed by a Pachyderm
Last night, I was in some godforsaken jungle being contested by some vague armies over unclear policy disputes.
My unit consisted of me with an M-203, a couple of aging journalists whose bodies were showing signs of the ravages of youthful indiscretions involving recreational chemicals, several indigenous armed men, and Lamont.
Lamont was walking point, his job keeping his nose close to the ground to sniff out enemy activity.
We were accompanied by an elephant, probably to transport extra ammo and beer to the forward operating base.
The pachyderm moved forward. And Lamont was focused on the tree line of the dense jungle growth in front and to either side.
I saw it coming, as Lamont stepped off the path and the several ton beast ambled towards Lamont.
And then it happened. It was horrific and gruesome and vivid and in technicolour, as the elephant lifted his foot which came down from behind, its shadow considerably larger than Lamont as it descended in increasingly dark gloom down and smooshed Lamont, in slow motion. The last I saw was the face of my 8 inch tall, ten pound pal, Lamont, his eyes bulging out of his head, his life sucked out of him.
I let out a blood curdling shriek that woke both me and Lamont from my nightmare. It was one of those dreams that leaves one shaking in terror, the unlikely grey zone of events secondary.
Lamont was half under the covers, his head sharing my pillow, asleep on his side facing me. His eyes bulging out in fright at whatever was being concocted in my overly fertile mind, staring at me in the dark in my bed. And I exhaled and pulled Lamont closer and he gave me a sincere, vigorous, prolonged smooch.
And I said: "Lamont!@#! Remember rule number one! Never step off of the path!"
Eventually as my heart gradually returned to a non life-threatening pace. I drifted back to sleep. I think Lamont stayed awake to ensure the perimeter was secure. ■