Brrttffl.
Another one down. The third one I point at tells us all of it. The slopes don?t call me Monsieur Morte
for nothing. What it is, there?s this pool at the foot of the hill and Nim?s holed up there in a cave. I
call the air back and this time he comes in and lands and the pilot, who is this fuckin? rosy-cheeked
bastard about twelve years old, he jumps out, says, “Where?s the lieutenant?” and I tell him there
ain?t any lieutenant, I?m a sergeant and I?m in charge and what?s his problem, and he says the cease-
fire is tonight and it?s official, all that shit, and he wants to call the whole thing off. “What the hell,”
he says, “it?s only a few more hours,” and I say, “Listen, you fuckin? wimp, we been following this
little bastard for days and we?re goin? in there and get the motherfucker, so let?s get on with it.” He
gets the color of a goddamn beet and he says, “I?m putting you on report. What?s your name,
mister?” and I say, “Just tell them Monsieur Morte insulted you, that a Pall Mall?ll get you a kick in
the ass and that?s all it?ll get you,” and he says, “Don?t give me any of that Wild West shit, what?s
your name?” and I say, “Parver, P-a-r-v-e-r,” and I spell it for him and then I say, “And either
you?re gonna fly that fuckin? bird or one of us will. We?re goin? over that hump and my people ain?t
wadin? through a lot of fuckin? Mace to get there.”
Anyway, before it was over, we were in the chopper and we go over the hump and the pool?s down
there, like the gook says, and there?s little gray wisps of Mace, still hanging in there, like stringy
strands of cotton. So we drop a string down and three of us drop into the pit there, we beat it over to
the cave and we look in and this fuckin? Nim is sitting maybe twenty feet from the cave entrance. What
a mess! His legs are crossed at the ankles, he?s naked as a fuckin? flounder. His body is covered with
these scorched sores, his eyes are swollen shut, and he?s foaming at the fuckin? mouth from all the
Mace, like a goddamn mad dog. Fuckin? forty-five-year-old schoolteacher thinks he?s Fidel Castro or
something, and the fucker?s still breathing but blind as a bridegroom. All of a sudden he starts
reaching around for his weapon, which is an M-16 and you know where he got that, the little bastard,
so I step in behind him and
