Tag: jenkins (Page 9 of 9)

SOMEWHERE IN SOUTHEAST ASIA, THE SIXTIES

“General, this is a terrible idea.”

“Jenkins, is your first name Nelly? It should be!”

“Because I’m–”

“Because you’re negative!”

“–so negative? Right. Anyway, sir: this is not negativity. It’s a reasoned critique of the plan and the tools available to implement said plan.”

“We need a spy, Jenkins. Information! That’s the way we defeat Communism! Also napalm, but mostly information.”

“That’s a good point, sir.”

“Of course it is. I made it.”

“Yes, sir. But: why me?”

“Jenkins, just because you look like an idiot doesn’t mean you have to act like one. You know damn well you’re the only soldier in my command that speaks Vietnamese.”

“Two small problems, sir.”

“Besides Communism?”

“Obviously, sir. Communism is one problem, and a large problem at that.”

“Quite right, quite right. Carry on.”

“First, sir: I don’t speak Vietnamese. I speak Restaurant Vietnamese. I can get the spicy shrimp thing I like, and also order drinks. I can ask where the bathroom is, but they only understand me like half the time.”

“Well, it’s better than mine. I’ve been squinting my eyes and yelling “HiiiiYAA” at every native I see for the past year. Nothing.”

“Second thing, sir: even if I did speak fluent and properly-accented Vietnamese, I would still be a 6’2″, blue-eyed white man.”

“And?”

“Sir?”

“I fail to see your point, Jenkins. You’re drifting close to malingering, and a malingerer is a diabolical tick of a leech of a louse!”

“No sir. I’m none of those insects, sir. My point was that I cannot pass for Vietnamese. By any metric. I’m a foot taller than most of them, sir.”

“They are tiny little sandal-wearers, aren’t they?”

“Yes?”

“Besides, Jenkins: once again, you insist on slathering the world with the stupidity you should have kept bottled up inside you. Yes, the Vietnamese from the south of the country are short and dark, but up north it’s a different story. Blond hair, blue eyes, drink beer instead of wine. You’ll fit in.”

“Which north are you talking about, sir?”

“Vietnam! All the way up there by the Apennines.”

…

“Italy, sir. You’re thinking about Italy.”

“Blast your eyes, Jenkins: foreign is foreign!”

“Possibly, sir.”

“Oh, no. Words always mean themselves, Jenkins. If a word doesn’t mean itself, then by Jove it doesn’t mean anything at all!”

“That’s a tautology, sir.”

“No, no. Learned it myself. No one taught me anything.”

“Obviously sir. Can we now discuss the “tool” section of my argument?”

“Jenkins, every discussion with you is a discussion with a tool.”

“That is correct, sir.”

“And I’ll not hear one single gripe about your gear! Jenkins-Vision cost millions to develop. You should thank me, and thank the taxpayers.”

“Sir, you stole my motorcycle helmet and bungee-corded a Super-8 to it.”

“That’s military-grade bungee, Jenkins.”

“Even still: it’s not discreet, is it, sir? Not exactly a spy-cam.”

“Oh, I don’t know. What if you infiltrate a Communist cell made up of blind people?”

“They would hear the whirring, sir. Camera makes a good deal of noise. It’s actually deafening in here.”

“Think quiet thoughts, Jenkins.”

“Yes, sir. One more thing, though: there’s no microphone. Any Communist cell that is blind, deaf, and stupid enough to allow me in to their meetings…well, it’s just going to be a silent movie, sir.”

“And when you get back, you’ll read their lips for us, Jenkins.”

“I can’t even read American lips, sir.”

“You’ll pick it up.”

“I don’t know about that, sir. Vietnamese is a tonal language. It might be un-lip-readable.”

“There’s that negativity again.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Won’t have it! Now: get out there and infiltrate Communism.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And don’t you dare hang around Saigon for a month and then come back saying that the film was exposed.”

“Never, sir. It’ll be two months.”

“There’s the spirit!”

“Yes, sir.”

STATE DEPARTMENT BRIEFING ROOM – MORNING

“Good afternoon, everyone. Abernathy is on leave due to the squirrel-touching incident, so I’ll be doing the briefing this morning.”

“Do you have a name, sir?”

“Absolutely. Any questions?”

“Sir, down here. J.J. Jenkins, Washington Newspaper.”

“That’s the laziest fake paper name I’ve ever heard.”

“Yes, sir. It’s like casting the same two characters, one of whom he can’t even be bothered to name, in every little sketch.”

“Work’s work, Jenkins.”

“Yes, sir, I suppose. Anyway, the briefing: what does the State Department have to say about the rumors that it had a rogue NSA agent assassinated to keep him from leaking information to the North Koreans?”

“We deny them fiercely and completely. There is no truth to these allegations whatsoever, and we have written the Justice Department of our belief that the spreaders of these lies be prosecuted. For anyone to say the American government is having people assassinated is not just immoral, it may be illegal. America does not assassinate people.”

“So, you’re saying that the State Department did not have anyone killed?”

“Oh, no: we had a guy killed. Just wasn’t an assassination.”

“Sir?”

“Funny story: we were trying to kill his roommate, Ted. Whole different thing. And, you know: if we had killed Ted, then that would have been an assassination. But somehow Albert got killed. Not an assassination. No political motive.”

“So you’re saying that you didn’t technically assassinate someone, you just had a guy killed.”

“By accident. Complete accident. Anyone could have made the mistake. Those two really look alike.”

“You intended to assassinate Ted.”

“Still do.”

“Isn’t that a crime, sir?”

“What? Planning a murder isn’t a crime.”

“I think so, sir.”

“Thoughtcrime, Jenkins. That’s what that is! A crime to intend? Intent doesn’t matter: actions do. Write that in your fake paper.”

“Okay, but you did have Albert assassinated.”

“No. Jenkins, you just don’t get it. If we had killed Ted, then that’s an assassination. There was a good political reason to have him killed. Therefore: assassination. But there was no reason at all that Albert had to die. Does no one any good. That means it’s not an assassination.”

“The fact remains that the man is dead and the State Department is responsible.”

“Facts? Jenkins, facts don’t matter: context does. Unless a killing aids in an old man’s accumulation of power, then it’s not an assassination. You could slice every woman’s throat on the planet, but you only get to commit matricide once.”

“Matricide is a one-time deal, sir.”

“You follow my meaning, then?”

“No, sir. You’re speaking in circles.”

“Nonsense, Jenkins: circles are coherent shapes.”

“Yes, sir.”

…

“Your first name is J.J., Jenkins?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What does it stand for?”

“It’s Jenkins all the way down, sir.”

“Good man.”