BOOTLICKER

Fruit Salad.

2008-09-07

Men in lines. Their boots were still clean, so I could tell they’d never been anywhere, done anything. They were from up north, they carried these ridiculuous light arms - chrome plated sub-machine guns. They were perfectly polished and I could barely see the faces of the soldiers, they were so bright!

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The whole city had been put on alert when this task force had approached from the west. We’d seen men and women in green dashing to pill-boxes and tanks, loading rifles, hiding in bushes. Colonel was driving towards them now, that black car of his. Out he hopped, salutes all round from the men who got out before him. Gloves off. The engine’s still running and the door’s left open and attended.

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There all the soldiers in blue and yellow all stand, being talked to by some woman … without a hat? Is it possible they’re not being briefed by even an officer? Impossible, it has to be a trick - they’re all in plain uniform as a ploy - yes! The lines of foreign soldiers then took off in a hundred different directions - God, they were fit, you should’ve seen them run! They marched off behind buildings, into post offices, shops… even straight past the Colonel, who’s in charge of the whole city! What an insult! Brushing shoulders with such a powerful and righteous man!

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I think its almost needless to say the Colonel was furious. I saw him look back at his aide, I saw his rage for a split second - how exciting! Oh he was going to show them, I was so sure. He was taking long, impatient steps towards a small group of the foreign people still back where they’d all been - four of them were standing to attention, hands at their temples. Three had different uniforms, they had bright yellow trimmings to their enlarged lapels - unlike the one in between, who had his face wrapped up like the people on the farms, with those black goggles to match.

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The two women addressing the four had beautiful uniforms, wonderful large white boots with miles and miles of white lacing tying them right up to their knees - those most pale of pale blue suits moving up from there on. I don’t remember either of them appearing good-looking, or young, for that matter … I’m no pervert, I swear - but they seemed to be too beautiful to be an enemy…

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After watching these graceful people conduct themselves so mysteriously, the Colonel’s jealous march towards them seemed impetuous. There galloped he, gloves off and whip-in-hand, I remember his first words were, “Do you call this an invasion?” I was so lost in their little world of war-games I could just tell what he was saying.

She just laughed. She laughed just long enough to strip the green-suited man of all his pride, “No, Colonel. No, not at all.”

And then the faceless man second from the left produced a pistol and ran hot lead through his head.