Hell Of A Ride

“How does it feel, Jenkins?”

“It feels like I’m gonna die, sir.”

“You are. But the fleep allows you to take the enemy with you.”

“I’m setting her down, sir.”

KLOMPABANG

“She sets down sexy, Jenkins. Like a lion mixed with a hooker.”

“General, I don’t know what this thing–”

“Fleep!”

“–is even for.”

“Reconnaissance.”

“It’s incredibly loud, sir.”

“Transport.”

“Only carries around 300 pounds, sir.”

“Chicks dig it.”

“General, this jerry-rigged potluck of bad ideas–”

“Fleep!”

“–is not gonna work. Sir, please let’s come up with another name.”

“Flying jeep! Fleep! Have you not received your portmanteau training, Jenkins?”

“I must have been sick that day in Boot Camp.”

“Jam two words together and boom you got a new one. Words are unique in that fashion, Jenkins. For example, if you jam two hamsters together, you don’t get a new hamster. Still two. And now they’re angry. Or dead. Depending on the velocity of the together-jamming.”

“Sir.”

“Or gerbils. Same rules apply to gerbils as did to the hamsters. Mice. Any rodent. Let’s say any rodent.”

“Sir.”

“Fleep!”

“It’s just a terrible name, sir. It’s too cute. It needs to be ferocious and scary. We’re in the Army.”

“Are we?”

“I assumed so.”

“Well, we’re not wet. So we’re not in the Navy. And we’re speaking in complete sentences, so we’re not Marines. I refuse to recognize the Air Force on principle. Yes, we’re in the Army.”

“Well, there you go, sir. We’re a fighting organization. Maybe the name should be something tougher.”

“The Disappointed Father.”

“Not emotionally tough, sir. Physically.”

“Yes, Jenkins. Excellent idea. We’ll call it the Childbirth.”

“Not what I was saying, sir.”

“Childbirth is one of the most difficult ordeals the human body can undergo, Jenkins! It’s like shooting a rugby ball out a garden hose!”

“Y’know, the fleep isn’t a bad name, after all. Sir, can we get past what it’s called and get back to what it does?”

“It flies, boy. Like a bird made out of clouds. It conquers the sky, that’s what it does, and he who controls the sky is but unto a god. This is written, Jenkins. It has all been written.”

“In the Field Manual?”

“In the souls of the pure and plain.”

“Sir, is this vehicle some sort of offering to any otherworldly beings?”

“Noooooooooooooo.”

“No?”

“Maaaaaaaaaaaaybe.”

“Oh, sir.”

“Jenkins, are your eyes prepared for the blast? Have them call their families, get their affairs in order. Make your eyes ready!”

…

“They’ve made their peace with the situation.”

“Blast your eyes!”

“Consider them well blasted, sir. Now back to the matter at hand: what occult machinations have you made this machine for?”

“Don’t ever alliterate in my presence again, Jenkins.”

“Noted, sir.”

“Have you any idea of the history of the dark magicks in war? Hitler was up to his ball in it. Collected all sorts of artifacts and doohickery and weebo-jumbums. None of it came to anything, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Because Hitler was as bright as a Philadelphia Birdnest.”

“I’m not familiar with the phrase, sir.”

“A dog turd someone has flung into a tree.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because they live in Philadelphia, Jenkins. Keep up or prepare your eyeballs for reblasting.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hitler couldn’t tell his dick from a field full of barley. Once sent an entire battalion tramping through Italy looking for the Eldritch Spaghetti. The man didn’t do the reading.”

“Hitler had many flaws, sir.”

“He didn’t think big.”

“That was not one of the flaws, sir.”

“The fleep isn’t some trinket, Jenkins. We’re putting high-grade in the tank. No more Abandoned Gods for us. Minor demons? Not for us, thank you, we’re major leaguers. All the way to the penthouse with this one. The fleep will let us make contact with the big guy.”

“God?”

“Oh. No, the other one.”

“Please don’t make a deal with Satan, sir.”

“But we need to defeat Communism!”

“Not that way, sir.”

“Too late to call anything off now. The Dark One has already been alerted to us via the fleep’s very existence.”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“It’s a flying jeep, Jenkins. I can’t think of a bigger middle finger to God.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now help me prepare for Satan’s arrival.”

“A ritual?”

“No, we need to put out a spread. I’m thinking lox.”

“Yes, sir.”