Down the dirt road, in a tent that seemed the complete antithesis of "the Swamp", Margaret sat in a pink Kimono consoling a distraught Frank Burns with soft little kisses on his ears.
"Oh Margaret, Margaret." He whined. "It's just not fair! Pierce and McIntire can get away with anything in that operating room! Whenever we try to defend ourselves, the colonel jumps down our throats!"
"I know, I know darling," Margaret said sweetly. "It's three against two and it really isn't fair."
"Well, you know it's not just three against two, don't you? It's everybody!" Frank's voice raised an octave and Margaret rolled her eyes. The whole camp was accustomed to Frank's paranoia, but it didn't make it anyless annoying. "The whole camp is against us, Margaret, from that idiot Colonel down to that runt corporal." Just then, there was a light rapping on the door.
Frank and Margaret looked like two deer caught in headlights. Even though the entire camp knew of their liasons, they still had delusions of it being a private matter. "Who is it!" Margaret shrieked as she tried to cover he Kimono and Frank rummaged around, trying to hide.
"Um…it's the 'runt corporal,' sir." Margaret flung the door open and found Corporal Radar O'Reilly—the youngest soldier in camp (in mind, if not physically)—standing in his rumpled uniform and dirty spectacles.
"You little creep!" She hollered at the boy. He flinched as though he had been lashed. "Were you eavesdropping on mind and the Major's conversation?"
The corporal timidly looked down, trying to avoid eye contact with Margaret, and spoke rapidly into his clipboard. "Uh…no sir!"
"MA'AM!" She corrected forcefully.
"Yes sir, er…ma'am…sir." Radar peeped over his clipboard and a shadow of an innocent smile passed across his face. Margaret's attitude softened an undistinguishable fraction.
"What do you want, Corporal?" She asked exasperatedly.
"Oh, it's not me, ma'am…sir…it's the colonel, sir, ma'am. He wanted me to tell you that a new nurse is being shipped here from the 8063rd." Before she asked him to, he was handing her a folder filled with facts about her new charge. She eyed him suspiciously.
"That will be all, Corporal." She said, finally calm.
"Thank you ma'am…" Radar answered. "And, just so ya know, I don't think this new nurse is against you sirs yet." He had meant it innocently enough, but he soon realized that he had just proven himself guilty listening.
"You WERE eavesdropping, you little snoop! GET OUT!" Margaret's calm face disappeared and was replaced with one of demonic rage—which most of the camp was accustomed to. Radar's eyes opened in wide fear. He clutched his clipboard close to his chest and scurried away quickly as she slammed the door to her tent closed.
She turned around, expecting to see Frank, but she didn't at first. She looked down and saw him cowering in a corner of her tent with his army jacket covering his head. "Is the little twerp gone?" He whispered loudly. Margaret rolled her eyes.
"Get up, Frank. He knew you were." She grabbed Frank's arm and helped him to his feet. "That little creep of a corporal is always sneaking around!" She moaned. "You're right, Frank, they ARE all against us!" She puckered her face in an angry pout.
"They make life so miserable around here!" Frank agreed, his voice matching hers in its whine. "I think I'd prefer being in Indiana with my wife!" His face froze immediately in fear. He realized that he had made the mistake about two seconds after the word 'wife' escaped his lip-less mouth.
"Oh!" Margaret whimpered. Tears forming in her angry eyes, she yelled "Frank, get out!…GET OUT!" When Frank didn't move, she picked up her silver hairbrush from a nearby table and hurled it at him. Suddenly, he was moving, and, like Radar, he scurried away. For him, however, it seemed like he was running for his very life.