Part 9 (2/2)
The Marines fired in delirium, cutting down the first advancing wave of j.a.panese infantry. Death cries of Bonzai, Kamikaze, and Minolta hovered over the battlefield and the carnage of battle stained the beachhead a terrible crimson as the two Marines, employing the courage and wisdom of the Occident, prevailed in the first deadly moments of the a.s.sault.
”Kill those yellow sons a b.i.t.c.hes, Sergeant,” the colonel screamed above the din of battle.
”These ain't Mother's Day cards I'm sending 'em,” Ben replied toughly while sliding a clip into his automatic.
”G.o.ddammit, Sarge, here they come again. Hundreds of them.”
”It looks like curtains for us, Colonel.”
”Sarge, I just want to say I've never fought with a braver man.”
”Thank you, sir,” Ben answered. ”And I ain't ever fought with a bigger chicken s.h.i.+t in my whole life.”
Before Bull could answer, Matt and Karen charged from the hall. ”Here they come,” Bull bellowed. ”A G.o.ddam yellow horde. It looks like it's gonna be that proverbial hand-to-hand combat. Fix bayonets, Sergeant.”
The horde burst into their perimeter. Matt was shouting ”Simba Barracuda, Simba Barracuda” as he ran.
Matt lunged at Ben's throat but was disemboweled by a quick thrust of a bra.s.s candlestick by Bull Meecham. Karen lingered in the hallway.
”You're dead, Matt-j.a.p,” Colonel Meecham declared.
”No, I'm not,” Matt retorted, ”you only wounded me. Simba Barracuda. M. Meecham lives.” He then laid the broomstick on his shoulder and began pumping bazooka sh.e.l.ls into Bull's midriff.
”Wounded, my a.s.s,” Bull said. ”I cut your G.o.ddam yellow guts out.”
”I guess the big bazooka isn't doing any damage to your beer gut either. Yeah, sure. That's close.”
As the argument raged between the two enemies, Colonel Meecham, ignoring a cla.s.sic principle of warfare, left his flank exposed to the sprinting figure of Karen who exploded from the hallway bearing a bathroom plunger in her hands. As Bull debated the state of Matt's ability to continue in the holocaust, Karen stabbed the plunger into the dead center of her father's b.u.t.tocks.
”I killed Daddy. I stuck him in the b.u.t.t,” Karen crowed in triumph.
”You only wounded me,” the colonel countered angrily.
”Then you only wounded me,” said Matt.
”You are dead, Matt-j.a.p,” the colonel answered. ”I am wounded. A good Marine can be brought down only when his heart stops beating.”
”My heart's still beating.”
Ben was doubled up on the sofa giggling. ”Karen stuck the Great Santini in the b.u.t.t with a plumber's friend.” He was easy prey for Karen, who ran him through with no resistance.
”Shut up and fight, jocko,” Colonel Meecham shouted at Ben.
”Simba Barracuda,” Matt shouted, thrusting his broomstick at his father.
The battle raged on until Mrs. Meecham descended the stairs on her way to the kitchen.
”It's a regiment of Marines come to relieve us,” the colonel cheered.
”America's finest coming in the nick of time,” Ben shouted as his father hummed the Marine Corps hymn.
”Why do we always have to play the j.a.ps?” Matt whined.
”Yeah, we never get to play the Marines,” Karen added.
”That's because you're a bunch of stinking j.a.ps,” Ben said grinning and poking Karen with the candlestick.
”If I'm a j.a.p then you're a j.a.p too. 'Cause you're my brother,” Matt said.
”None of you are j.a.ps,” Colonel Meecham said, entering the argument. ”We're just conducting war games. In war games somebody has to be designated as the enemy. When you get older, you'll get to be Marines. You've just got to prove yourself worthy first.”
”Simba Barracuda,” Matt said, as a form of agreement.
”What's this 'Simba Barracuda' c.r.a.p?” the colonel asked.
”Matt picked that up when you were gone, Pops,” Ben said. ”He thinks it strikes fear into the hearts of men.”
”Any time I'm about to fight someone I yell 'Simba Barracuda' real tough like. It works every time.”
”You could yell 'Simba Barracuda' at me until your b.u.t.t fell off and it wouldn't bother me,” Bull said.
”Then I'd have to use my other approach. I don't use this one unless it looks like curtains.”
”What's that, sportsfans?”
”I say real cool and tough, 'Hey man, you mess with me and you'll have to answer to Angelo Delucci.' ”
”Who's he?”
”n.o.body, Dad. But people get scared when Big Matt talks about Angelo Delucci.”
”I don't get it, Big Matt,” Bull said. ”What's so scary about an Eye-talian?”
”Eye-talians have been known to do a little rubbin' out, Pops. You haven't been watching 'The Untouchables' overseas.”
”What a bunch of horsec.r.a.p. Ha. Ha. Angelo Delucci.”
”Simba Barracuda.”
At this moment, her face a portrait of scorn, Mary Anne walked through the middle of the war game and said, ”Is the war over, creeps?”
”Uh oh,” her father teased, ”here comes Miss Hang Crepe, morose as ever.”
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