Friday, March 10, 2006

No One Writes to the Colonel: Pt. 1

[Scene: The Irish Times post room, early morn. A hive of activity. Employees race hither and yon laden with parcels and letters. The guardian of the post bags, a dacent old skin by the name of 'Charley', leans against the wall, supping his tay and planning his day's labours. Enter Col. Kevin Myers stage left…]

Myers: Morning Charley, what, what!

Charley: [rather wearily] Oh…good morning Mr. Myers…how are you today, sir?

Myers: [nonchalantly] Oh fine…fine…can't complain. By the way it's Colonel Myers, Charley.

Charley: Ah yes, sorry about that Colonel…

Myers: Not at all Charley, not at all. [Distracted] Em…how are the wife and children?

Charley: Well, the kids are fine Colonel, but the wife…well, you know, she passed on about two years back…

Myers: Ah, of course! Murdered in her bed by a pair of glue sniffing ragamuffins, was she? Abominable, Charlie! Abominable! And for what? The meagre contents of her purse, and the few paltry bits of cheap jewellery she owned?!

Charley: Err…no, Colonel…it was actu…

Myers: [ignoring him and rising to the occasion] I feel ill Charley. I may vomit on your shoes momentarily. A decent woman, in her way, brutally cut down for a few pittances… to be used, no doubt, in the procurement of more bags of glue and another pair of those…um…sports running shoes. The world is a sceptic and vile place Charley, is it not?

Charley: It was actually breast cancer, Colonel…

Myers: [bewildered momentarily] Ah…are you sure, Charley? Perhaps it was just made to look that way…Yes, yes…that must be it! And what do these vicious, sub-human, scum get for all that, Charley? I'll tell you: A gentle slap on the wrists and six months in our Ritzy 'prisons' enjoying the Gamestation Playbox and internetwork access in every ensuite room, while the likes of you, my dear Charley, sit eating cold beans from a can in the lumpen squalour of your kitchen! I fear I may really wretch this time, Charley…

[The Colonel dry heaves thrice before reaching for his lavender-soaked handkerchief. A few deep breaths and he seems 'calm', once more]

Charley: [Attempting to change the subject] Em…was there anything in particular you needed this morning Mr. Myers?

Myers: [Muffled, through his hanky] That's Colonel Myers, Charley…but no, no, nothing in particular. Um…while I'm here though…I might as well enquire…has anything addressed to me come through yet?

Charley: Er…nothing you'd really want to see Colonel…the usual stuff…you know yourself…

Myers: Ah yes! The vile hate mail and death threats of the liberal 'intelligentsia', scrawled in hand-wringingly anguished prose on recycled paper no doubt! They really mean to stop me this time, Charley, but if I die (a victim of one of their home made explosive devices) who will take up the crusade in my stead? My demise would not, of course, be merely a personal tragedy, robbing me of my own company, but an unprecedented disaster for the whole civilised world! I must go on Charley, I shall go on! If not for myself, and Mrs. Myers, then for the hundreds of millions of readers who depend on me to raise my voice on their behalf. Speaking of which, Charley…

Charley: [Awkwardly] Ah…nothing from the fans yet, Colonel…maybe in the next post…

Myers: [Sadly] They are afraid to speak, Charley…so cowed are they by the vile, bullying of the quasi-liberal, politically correct media. Their silence speaks volumes though, Charley! [Becoming more animated] I hear their voices in my quite moments of meditation, rising up to a pleading, but magnificent, crescendo…they are scared and flaccid, Charley…they need me at my most robust, and toweringly erect, to boom forth their message…they love me, Charley…I can see their eyes welling with tears…I can SEE them Charley, they look to me as their saviour…their last hope…the lone voice in a wilderness of lesbo-feminist, tree-huggers! "Save us, Colonel!", they cry, "Save us from the damn'd jaws of bastard liberal hell itself!!"

Charley: [Shaken] Well…I'll let you know if anything arrives for you Colonel. [Finishes his tea] Back to the grind now. See you later Colonel M. [exits]

Myers: [wiping the foam from his lips] Yes…yes…later brave, noble Charley…if there is to be a 'later'. The signs align, the omens speak of ill fortunes ahead. The end times may be drawing near. But what can the Colonel do alone? He is but one man…one magnificent man…

[Exit Myers, lost in thought].

4 Comments:

Blogger fústar said...

With thanks to copernicues for the idea. I couldn't resist!

4:15 p.m.  
Blogger Suzy said...

More! More!

12:33 p.m.  
Blogger fústar said...

It's coming Suzy...in great chunky slices!

1:31 p.m.  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Very cool design! Useful information. Go on! » »

10:22 p.m.  

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