The Lebanese Peddler

Note and Disclaimer: We all know that we don't own anything of M*A*S*H. It's just fun to write about Corporal Klinger, though. Enjoy!


"Come and get your watches here! Watches, coming straight from the U.S. of A.! No black market material, folks, but plain gold watches, real and shiny. Come and get your watches!"

Outwardly, I am playing the part of the traveling salesman well, those Korean women coming over to examine the merchandise as I accept all forms of money from numerous lines around the brown cart. Hey, now it's stockpiled with things I purchased from the black market (I had to lie somewhere), way back in the day when Colonel Blake was around. I knew that they would come in handy someday, when I was desperate for a way out. And that day has come finally.

Trying to dress up as Marilyn Monroe didn't work. Proposing to President Eisenhower and catching a ride in Tokyo didn't work. Or dressing up like Lady Godiva, Dorothy, Cleopatra or a million other things. Nothing was making me go back to Toledo. I mean, this Lebanese man has tried everything and more. But, this time, with sneaking out of the camp with the rest of the Korean L.I.P. with carts without Radar noticing (like he has, with the recent plans), I might have a chance to walk out of Korea undetected.

Inwardly, I am excited, handing out the shiny objects to these poor souls with shaking hands. Me, Corporal Maxwell Q. Klinger, the mastermind of the camp, have outwitted everyone again. Keeping my head low and the hair tucked in at all angles, I managed to follow the long and lonely exodus of Korean men, out to make a pretty penny from unsuspecting Korean women and U.S. soldiers looking for something to send home. Without even Major Houlihan smelling a rat, I turned my Army boots into walking shoes, taking the first opportunity to go home to Toledo.

"Hey, Joe, how much?" a Korean boy asks me as the line of customers starts growing longer.

"You got a dollar to get one of these beauties, kid? If you don't, get out of here."

Then, I pointed to the sign I posted on the top of the cart, showing the pricing on everything. I was kinda busy with the others, so I don't have time for random questions from the young kids. It gets annoying, you know?

"I don't read English." Putting his hands innocently behind his back, the kid smiles back at me.

"You speak it pretty well." I was paid for some watches and off my new clientele went off, but my eyes were still on the kid.

"I learn from G.I. Joe. Swell guy!"

I had about enough. I've heard this spew from every Korean kid ever since I got here.

"Scram, kid! Get out of here!" I yell, shaking my fist in a mocking manner.

The kid obeyed me in an instant when he saw how angry I was, but it was his eyes that got my attention. They went all wide as he looked over my shoulder just before scampered. He was staring at something behind me.

Was it my imagination, or was somebody coming for me again? My nose seems to sense some type of fink around here. And I knew that it was time to move on, if that were the case.

I shooed away the rest of the line and picked up the cart handles. "Ok, everybody, show's over. This store is traveling out of here. Come follow if you want to."

I knew that, even with a long line of Korean housewives crying for my attention, I had no chance to beat the M.P.'s this time. I had to get out when I had the time to.

Pushing up the cart fast and ignoring the chatter and angry protests, I ran for it. I didn't care about the watches I left behind or if any of them followed me. They can have it, if they want it that badly. Or, they can bother me elsewhere.

Yep, that M.P. was behind me, in the bushes, waiting to spring out. "Corporal Klinger, you're under –"

I was too far away to hear the rest of it. I was gaining ground, the group of Korean women now chasing after me. Apparently, I had made them all mad and they're not happy that they were cheated out of seeing the watches. They wanted something to give to their male family and friends, I guess. Where they get the money, I can't tell. Maybe it has something to do with those soldiers trying to get Korean wives…?

I don't know and don't care. I'm more concerned about getting out Korea alive. Maybe, this time, I will see Toledo in a few days –

I hope.