Snow Question

TaleSpin and its characters are the property of Disney/Buena Vista Co. and are used without permission.

The Glorious People's Capitol Building in Mustgo, The Glorious Capital City of the Glorious People's Republic of Thembria

"Sergeant Dunder!" Colonel Spigot lisped. He charged across the office as fast as his short warthog legs would take him and smacked his riding crop against the worn desk. "What are you doing?"

Without breaking stride in his work, Dunder replied, "Stamping the official snow reports before taking them to the Ministry of Snow."

"And why are you doing that?" There was a suspicious gleam in Spigot's eye, as if he suspected an ulterior motive behind Dunder's actions.

"Because I've done this every Wednesday for the past ten-and-a-half years?" Dunder replied with a shrug.

"I want you to cease immediately!"

Dunder looked up from the massive piles of paperwork, his stamp suspended in mid-air. "Sir?"

Pacing around the dim, drab office lined with filing cabinets, Spigot said, "It has come to my attention that there is a distinct lack of organization and hierarchy here."

"I haven't noticed any shortages," Dunder said wonderingly. "At least, no more than normal."

"Is that a short joke?" Spigot snapped, stopping to whack the much larger Sergeant across the knee with his whip.

Dunder contritely hung his head. "Sorry, Colonel Spigot, sir."

Spigot continued to pace around the office, lightly smacking his riding crop against his palm. "Without organization and hierarchy, there is utter chaos! Worst of all, it is interfering with our work output."

"Maybe if you didn't take so many naps, sir," Dunder hazarded quietly.

"How many times must I tell you, Sergeant Dunder, that I'm not napping. I'm thinking deep thoughts."

"I've never heard anyone snore and think at the same time, sir."

"Because it's a talent that only a true genius can possess."

"Oh." Relying on his Thembrian logic, Dunder deduced, "Then you must be a true genius, sir."

"Exactly." Spigot proudly drew himself up to his full height, which wasn't much. "Because of my vast intelligence, I want you to ask me, your superior supervisor, permission to do everything!"

"Everything, sir?"

"Everything." Spigot glared at Dunder menacingly. "Or you will be shot."

"Yes, sir." Dunder paused for a moment, looking at the stamp in his hand. "Colonel?"

Rocking on his heels, Spigot said expectantly, "You have a question, Sergeant Dunder?"

"Request permission to continue stamping the snow reports, sir?"

"Yes, you may. And because you asked so nicely, I will help you," Spigot said magnanimously.

Dunder shifted uneasily in his hardbacked chair. The last time that the colonel had helped him, he had to redo everything in triplicate, and he had been flogged because he had been five months behind in his work. "Thank you, sir, but you're better suited to your deep thoughts, sir."

"You're so right, Sergeant Dunder," Spigot said with a smug smirk. He settled himself into his favorite well-padded chair in front of the radar screen. Closing his eyes, he said, "Carry on."

Later...

"Colonel Spigot?" When his superior officer didn't answer, Dunder repeated it a little louder. "Colonel Spigot?"

Spigot awoke with a snort. When his blurry eyes focused, he snapped, "How dare you disturb my deep thoughts?"

"Sorry, sir. I'm out of ink." Dunder held up the empty ink bottle as proof. "Request permission to get some more from the Department of Supplies?"

"Permission granted."

"And can I use the little sergeant's room on the way there?"

Eager to get back to his nap, Spigot waved him aside. "If you must, but hurry it up."

Even Later...

Sergeant Dunder leaned over his sleeping supervisor, his arms loaded with a stack of papers, all neatly stamped and forged with Colonel Spigot's signature. "Request permission to take these reports to the Ministry of Snow?"

Snore...

"I take that as a yes," Dunder said.

Much Later...

"Colonel? Colonel Spigot, sir?" Dunder said, shaking Spigot's shoulder. "There is an urgent situation, sir."

Spigot awoke with a startled snort, saying, "I wasn't sleeping, High Marshall, sir! I was merely thinking deep thoughts for the benefit...of...the...Mommyland." Seeing that there was no one but Dunder in the room, he frowned. "What do you want? Another question?"

"Yes, sir. Request permission to blow my nose?"

Impatiently, Spigot said, "Permission granted."

"Request permission to throw my used tissue into the trash?"

Irritated, Spigot lisped, "Yes. Whatever."

"Request permission to sharpen my pencil?"

Angrily, Spigot spat, "Granted."

"Request permission to...?"

"Sergeant Dunder!" Spigot snapped. He hopped down from his chair and stormed over to the sergeant's desk. Standing on tiptoe, he grabbed Dunder's shirt and yanked him down so that he was eye-to-eye. "Stop asking me questions!"

"But you said..."

Giving Dunder a fierce shake, Spigot cried, "Don't listen to what I said. Listen to what I'm saying. And I'm saying that good leaders follow orders."

"Does that mean that I'm going to be promoted, sir?" Dunder asked hopefully.

"Don't be silly," Spigot said, releasing Dunder's uniform with a light, sarcastic laugh. "Only true geniuses with talents like mine are promoted."

"Of course, sir."

"Leave me alone for the rest of the day, or you will be shot!" Spigot settled into his chair, muttering, "Stupid sergeants... If it wasn't for us true geniuses, us superior supervisors, nothing would ever get done around here...."

"Yes, Colonel Spigot, sir." With a disappointed sigh, Dunder returned to his desk. He picked up his stamp and began stamping papers in time to his superior supervisor's snores.

The End