Wait…How Many Escapes Did I Attempt?

Note and Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own the storylines and characters of M*A*S*H (yada yada, yada), but the antics and Corporal Klinger are extremely amusing and some of them left to the imagination of the writers. There's another one I cooked up. Enjoy!

Ok…so the whole "Climb on a plane and ride to Toledo in a wedding dress while waiting for Eisenhower to reply to my marriage proposal" didn't work out as well as I planned. The M.P.'s caught me this time. Apparently, Radar had caught onto my letter at the last minute and was egged on to give to Colonel Potter, our great chief of chiefs. He didn't have a choice, apologizing profusely to me as I came back to camp from Tokyo.

Don't get me wrong…I don't blame the kid in the slightest. He was doing what he was supposed to do, unless Major Houlihan kicked him in the butt (yeah, she was the one who saw him reading it and ordered him to give it to her). But, I do have another plan up my sleeve that will sure get me out of here. And, who knows? Maybe, this time, I'll get that Section Eight if they found out the truth and think it screwy enough!

I don't know if I look good enough to pass off as Marilyn Monroe, but this Lebanese man will sure as hell try!

The U.S.O. is coming to Korea soon and Ms. Monroe is rumored to be coming aboard. Well, it was what Colonel Potter said over the intercom when he announced that the group was coming over to our u nit. And I know it's not some prank that Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt had concocted. Nope, it's the real whazo!

Sure, Colonel Potter almost had me under lock and key the last time I tried escaping and going home to Toledo and he made sure that I never got the chance to leave the grounds for a while. Instead, he had me under strict K.P. until the floor shined and he could eat on them. He had me tending to patients' needs like I was some nurse (I even had the outfit and the part ready to play out, too!). Worst of all, I was doing laundry with the Korean women until my hands almost peeled off of my body and withered. It was horrible! Oh, the shame! The agony!

Well, it wasn't quite horrible and shameful. It's just put a kink in my plans.

Now, dressed as Ms. Monroe, I can either pretend that I'm the pretty blonde bombshell that everyone love and act out the part so well that even Captain Pierce will have me drinking in the Swamp. Or, I can secretly sneak out of camp and join the U.S.O. and walk away pretty. Either way, I can walk my little way back home or get that Section Eight I always wanted. And if they find me to be a man, then so be it. My artistic rapture will be ruined. I shall go home a broken man.

There! A little more makeup here and the blonde wig to go with it (the legs are shaved, by the way)…and I am perfect. Corporal Maxwell Q. Klinger turned into Marilyn Monroe. I am a genius!

Uh-oh, there's a knock on my door. Even though the Klinger Collection is blocking the doorway, somebody is always brave enough to knock it over and –

"Klinger! What are you doing?"

Oops, it's Radar again. He has the mail, but he's also moved away my stack of dresses and revealed my next big secret.

"Kid, I – wait, Radar, where are you going?"

"You know Colonel Potter has orders that you should be getting rid of your dresses unless you wanna see them burned and sent to North Korea. And he's walking this way! Geez, Klinger, can't you just –"

"Radar, wait –"

And off that kid goes, without giving me my mail. Geez, do I have to chase him, too? I need my mail as much as any person does.

I have to. In order to save my next plan and to escape from this camp (as well as get my mail from him), I have to get that kid to stop babbling about my dresses. Some officer is sure to get him to talk about it! I can't afford that now. I need to get out of here, as fast as possible!

Even in heels, I sprint out the door (missing our great Colonel in the leap as he walks casually past my door) and lock my eyes for Radar, yelling at him to stop and to give me my mail. I was more concerned about the escape plan, but, hey…how many escapes did I attempt ever since I came to Korea? One hundred and something already? Wait…?

Oh, damn…did I just rip my dress on the door?