I'm baaaaaack! Sorry everyone. Since you last heard from me, I unfortunately came down with a terrible case of the RLs. Yuck! But with some friendly "nudging" (thanks Linda) and the guilt-bites I've been getting from various plot-bunnies (they can be extremely vicious if left wild), I think I've been cured. Well, recovering at least. So, let's see if we can bring a certain colonel some well earned relief (after we sufficiently put him through the ringer first, of course ... hee hee.)
Under the Weather
Chapter 4: Sorry Kommadant. What were you saying?
."Ah, Hogan! Please, have a seat," Klink smiled, gesturing towards the chair directly in front of his large ornate desk.
Trying not to look too relieved to be off his unsteady feet, Hogan gingerly sat, wondering what Klink was grinning about.
Standing up, Klink reached for a document on top of several piles of paper. "Hogan, I called you here today to share with you this letter I just received from General Burkhalter. It seems that I, because of my impeccable record and astounding reputation, have been chosen to be the lead speaker at the upcoming Luftstalag Kommadants' conference in Berlin this weekend." Unable to contain himself, Klink pranced around his office like a peacock. Of course, he neglected to add the fact that the kommadants of Stalags 1 through 12 had already turned down the offer, simply wanting to go the conference for the wine and women and the chance to live it up on the Third Reich's penny.
The look of pure joy on Klink's face made Hogan's stomach flip-flop once again.
"Uh, that's great Kommadant." Hogan's response was slow and unimaginative. He really didn't care about the German colonel's speech or anything else for that matter. All he wanted to do was to go back to bed. He was nauseous and the bright light in Klink's office was piercing his pounding head.
"Yes, it is indeed!" Klink smiled re-reading his letter for perhaps the 100th time. Caught up in his own glee, Klink was totally oblivious to Hogan's discomfort. "And, of course, I would like to give you the opportunity to help me write my speech."
'Of course.' Hogan said to himself.
"You are very good with words, Hogan, and I think you can best help me capture the true essence of my superior management skills." Klink was now standing in front of a small mirror and smiled, grooming himself. "You may not know this, Hogan, but I was once voted 'Junior Accountant of the Year' in all of Northeastern Leipzig." He neglected to add once again that his uncle was the sole judge of the contest. "So, how do you think I should begin? I have an excellent joke about an annual tax form being misfiled. It had them rolling on the floor in Leipzig. Or maybe I should start with a ... uh ..." Finally, Klink realized that the usually talkative American colonel, was unusually quiet.
Unfortunately, Colonel Hogan hadn't heard much of what the German had said. Preoccupied with his aches and pains, Hogan grimaced as he tried to find a more comfortable position on the hard wooden seat.
"Hogan?" Klink called, watching the man sitting across from him, head bent down, rubbing his eyes closed against an obvious headache. Klink thought to himself, 'Hmmm. He's even paler than just a few hours ago.'
"Hogan?" He said louder.
Blood-shot eye popped open, then immediately closed half-way. Hogan removed his hands from his temples and was about to say something, but broke out into a coughing fit instead that had him doubled over within seconds.
Klink jumped up and grabbed a glass of water from a nearby table. Offering it to Hogan, he could not help but notice the shaking hands that took the glass from him. Finally, Hogan's coughing settled as he breathed heavily.
"Uh, sorry Kommadant. What were you saying?" Hogan said quietly between breathes, as he leaned back, squinting his eyes against the winter sunlight streaming into the office.
"Hogan, you are obviously much sicker than I thought. Perhaps you should return to your barracks and have your medic attend to you." As concerned as he was, Klink quickly realized he may be showing too much sympathy towards the 'enemy'. As an after thought, he added, "To prevent you from infecting the rest of the camp, of course, and causing me undue stress filling out all the paper work that would create." He looked at Hogan one last time then quickly returned to the stacks of paper on his desk. "You're dismissed. We'll talk about this at a later time."
After a few seconds of just trying to catch his breath, Hogan simply nodded, slowly stood up and left to return to his beckoning bed.
