SOAP 3
They did end up dusting Thursday, but it was fun, togetherness, chat, now the place looked better, that and the curtain.
Door and window were open to air it out as they worked. Passersby were astounded to see that tough English sgt with a dust cloth. Gasp, he's even having fun, they're laughing and joking as they work together.
Midafternoon, job done, the lay side-by-side relaxing.
"I would hazard a guess, whoever had this before were swine with a capital S."
Sonali's face clouded, she closed window and door, "don't say that again."
"Gotcha. I arrived just after last payday. Woke up in sickbay, an obvious suicide attempt in another bed."
"One more abusive relationship, her partner's back in HQ awaiting court martial."
"So," he said sadly, "this is it. Send you here hoping you suicide or die or whatever. Absolutely anything this unit produces is a bonus, doing its job just keeping these people away from HQ."
She snuggled close, hugged him tight.
He grinned, "tomorrow should be good weather, picnic?"
She kissed him several times, "thank heavens you are here."
Next door Gulazar and Shabnab were fighting. Gulazar said, if even a man, a tough Brit veteran can do his share, then so can you. Shabnab, an equal size, told her to stick it, want it done, do it yourself. They had plenty of time to smoke dope, none to clean. The place was now a tip. Both were of course hoping to win next month's draw for a cleaner.
Gulazar laughed, "suppose Sonali and Charlie win the draw, they won't need the cleaner, maybe we could barter something."
Shabnab hugged her, started French-kissing. They moaned, ripped off clothes and headed for bed.
Sonali and Charlie did win. He'd already bought the lamp, so they were pretty happy about their place. The neighbor offer of a hand-embroidered little wall hanging sounded like a good barter, they accepted.
As they snuggled, Sonali laughed, "wanna bet how long it takes for those two to get it dirty again?"
"We could always ask for that little clock as barter, if we win the draw.
She laughed, slapped him playfully.
Sonali was soon to be proven wrong. Gulazar and Shabnab picked a day they knew he'd be a bit later, teacher meeting. On the surface, a casual neighbor dropin only. But eagle eyes were everywhere. Place looked beautiful, with curtain, lamp and wall hanging, sparkling clean. They'd seen those two cleaning, picnicing and walking hand-in-hand. They wanted what the lovebirds had.
Finally Gulazar got to the point, "we could wait a donkey's age for a cleaner again. Tell us how we can divide things up."
Gently, "you have tried taking turns?"
Shabnab groaned, "yes, but we spend more time fighting over whose turn it is than the job is worth."
"Perhaps if you drew up an agreement, one always do certain jobs, the other does others."
They looked at each other, realized they'd just spent the last three years being prize donkey behinds and blushed.
Sheepishly Shabnab whispered, "yes it's time, we'll make a deal."
They left hand-in-hand.
A week later, Charlie was dressing one morning, "honey our neighbors. Strange, saw them cleaning together, hugging in the movie. Did they ah change dope?"
She ruffled his hair, "no, just realized they had been dopes."
What really told the world Gulazar and Shabnab had arrived? The curtain.
Not surprisingly, this provoked a lot of discussion in other MQ units on the block.
Other side neighbors, Zala and Benazir were fighting. Benazir pointed out that if Zala spent half as much on dope, the curtain was affordable. Zala countered by suggesting Benazir quit cigarettes instead, the argument going in circles for days.
Eventually they sought Sonali's advice. "Suppose now each of you is responsible for saving your half?"
They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Yes it was time. In due course, the world saw the curtain.
This wasn't lost on other MQ blocks. Soon half the units were filled with people either squabbling or discussing home improvements.
Malali sat over tea, staring out her office window. Even here in the Valley of the Damned, things happen. People sprucing up, less MP incidents. Who started it? The Brit. Glad he's here. Not only that, does a good job, he's teaching adult refugees now, not girls of course. All say the same, explains well, makes it fun, kind, gives you little jokes to help you remember.
And Sonali, known her 20 years now, never seen her happier, must be a good love. And imagine, he's a drunk who fell off a ferry. World is chock-a-block full of paradox.
Sonali and he have shown them the picnic routine, any good weather weekend day, a third of the couples are up at the coast. All that fresh air, less dope smoked, more relaxed.
One of Fazila's contingent of MP's is now demanding a transfer. Says the place is boring, gone too goody-goody. Imagine HQ's reaction to that. 3 Kabul goody-goody??
Fazila, fair-minded to her person, endorsed the request. Yes demand for MP services was down, table of stats attached. Recommend she be allowed transfer.
HQ reply to Fazila was, yes transfer authorized, but please explain why the changes.
Her reply, people are buying curtains, cleaning their units, smoking up less, picnicing more, even poetry readings in the mess.
Salima, the bewildered Commander-in-Chief shook her head. This is symptoms, not cause. Too busy to worry about it more, she pushed Fazila'a report aside.
A second MP demanded transfer, Fazila endorsing. Again Salima shook her head, looking at the latest reduced internal crime stats. Somehow or other, 3 Kabul had got on track. Last thing they needed was Fazila's sort. Salima's reply: MP requesting the transfer and Fazila are transferred out.
Fazila kissed the letter. My chance to escape this iceberg. Be gracious. She went to the tuckshop, bought cigarettes and chocolate bars, checking with the shop lady to see what Charlie and Sonali preferred.
Shyly, Fazila tapped on their door. Sonali invited her in.
Smiling, Fazila drew out the letter, showed it to them, laid the little package on the table.
Choking back a tear, "thank you so very much for putting me out of business. I'll never forget you , haven't changed one iota from your last lifetime, still a decent chap. Last time I saw you was on a snowy hillside near Sarajevo December 15, 1943." Fazila snapped to attention, snapped out the straight arm Nazi salute.
Pure reflex, Charlie returned the military (not the party) salute. "Ah yes, Leutnant Reinprecht, I remember you."
Fazila smiled, "hiding away from the people, Colonel, should go to HQ. Give you five-six years, you'd be 2-i-c to Salima herself."
Charlie blushed.
Fazila hugged both, "gotta run, gotta pack."
Left Sonali staring at Charlie. She didn't need to ask, her expression said it all, catatonic shock.
Door and window were open to air it out as they worked. Passersby were astounded to see that tough English sgt with a dust cloth. Gasp, he's even having fun, they're laughing and joking as they work together.
Midafternoon, job done, the lay side-by-side relaxing.
"I would hazard a guess, whoever had this before were swine with a capital S."
Sonali's face clouded, she closed window and door, "don't say that again."
"Gotcha. I arrived just after last payday. Woke up in sickbay, an obvious suicide attempt in another bed."
"One more abusive relationship, her partner's back in HQ awaiting court martial."
"So," he said sadly, "this is it. Send you here hoping you suicide or die or whatever. Absolutely anything this unit produces is a bonus, doing its job just keeping these people away from HQ."
She snuggled close, hugged him tight.
He grinned, "tomorrow should be good weather, picnic?"
She kissed him several times, "thank heavens you are here."
Next door Gulazar and Shabnab were fighting. Gulazar said, if even a man, a tough Brit veteran can do his share, then so can you. Shabnab, an equal size, told her to stick it, want it done, do it yourself. They had plenty of time to smoke dope, none to clean. The place was now a tip. Both were of course hoping to win next month's draw for a cleaner.
Gulazar laughed, "suppose Sonali and Charlie win the draw, they won't need the cleaner, maybe we could barter something."
Shabnab hugged her, started French-kissing. They moaned, ripped off clothes and headed for bed.
Sonali and Charlie did win. He'd already bought the lamp, so they were pretty happy about their place. The neighbor offer of a hand-embroidered little wall hanging sounded like a good barter, they accepted.
As they snuggled, Sonali laughed, "wanna bet how long it takes for those two to get it dirty again?"
"We could always ask for that little clock as barter, if we win the draw.
She laughed, slapped him playfully.
Sonali was soon to be proven wrong. Gulazar and Shabnab picked a day they knew he'd be a bit later, teacher meeting. On the surface, a casual neighbor dropin only. But eagle eyes were everywhere. Place looked beautiful, with curtain, lamp and wall hanging, sparkling clean. They'd seen those two cleaning, picnicing and walking hand-in-hand. They wanted what the lovebirds had.
Finally Gulazar got to the point, "we could wait a donkey's age for a cleaner again. Tell us how we can divide things up."
Gently, "you have tried taking turns?"
Shabnab groaned, "yes, but we spend more time fighting over whose turn it is than the job is worth."
"Perhaps if you drew up an agreement, one always do certain jobs, the other does others."
They looked at each other, realized they'd just spent the last three years being prize donkey behinds and blushed.
Sheepishly Shabnab whispered, "yes it's time, we'll make a deal."
They left hand-in-hand.
A week later, Charlie was dressing one morning, "honey our neighbors. Strange, saw them cleaning together, hugging in the movie. Did they ah change dope?"
She ruffled his hair, "no, just realized they had been dopes."
What really told the world Gulazar and Shabnab had arrived? The curtain.
Not surprisingly, this provoked a lot of discussion in other MQ units on the block.
Other side neighbors, Zala and Benazir were fighting. Benazir pointed out that if Zala spent half as much on dope, the curtain was affordable. Zala countered by suggesting Benazir quit cigarettes instead, the argument going in circles for days.
Eventually they sought Sonali's advice. "Suppose now each of you is responsible for saving your half?"
They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Yes it was time. In due course, the world saw the curtain.
This wasn't lost on other MQ blocks. Soon half the units were filled with people either squabbling or discussing home improvements.
Malali sat over tea, staring out her office window. Even here in the Valley of the Damned, things happen. People sprucing up, less MP incidents. Who started it? The Brit. Glad he's here. Not only that, does a good job, he's teaching adult refugees now, not girls of course. All say the same, explains well, makes it fun, kind, gives you little jokes to help you remember.
And Sonali, known her 20 years now, never seen her happier, must be a good love. And imagine, he's a drunk who fell off a ferry. World is chock-a-block full of paradox.
Sonali and he have shown them the picnic routine, any good weather weekend day, a third of the couples are up at the coast. All that fresh air, less dope smoked, more relaxed.
One of Fazila's contingent of MP's is now demanding a transfer. Says the place is boring, gone too goody-goody. Imagine HQ's reaction to that. 3 Kabul goody-goody??
Fazila, fair-minded to her person, endorsed the request. Yes demand for MP services was down, table of stats attached. Recommend she be allowed transfer.
HQ reply to Fazila was, yes transfer authorized, but please explain why the changes.
Her reply, people are buying curtains, cleaning their units, smoking up less, picnicing more, even poetry readings in the mess.
Salima, the bewildered Commander-in-Chief shook her head. This is symptoms, not cause. Too busy to worry about it more, she pushed Fazila'a report aside.
A second MP demanded transfer, Fazila endorsing. Again Salima shook her head, looking at the latest reduced internal crime stats. Somehow or other, 3 Kabul had got on track. Last thing they needed was Fazila's sort. Salima's reply: MP requesting the transfer and Fazila are transferred out.
Fazila kissed the letter. My chance to escape this iceberg. Be gracious. She went to the tuckshop, bought cigarettes and chocolate bars, checking with the shop lady to see what Charlie and Sonali preferred.
Shyly, Fazila tapped on their door. Sonali invited her in.
Smiling, Fazila drew out the letter, showed it to them, laid the little package on the table.
Choking back a tear, "thank you so very much for putting me out of business. I'll never forget you , haven't changed one iota from your last lifetime, still a decent chap. Last time I saw you was on a snowy hillside near Sarajevo December 15, 1943." Fazila snapped to attention, snapped out the straight arm Nazi salute.
Pure reflex, Charlie returned the military (not the party) salute. "Ah yes, Leutnant Reinprecht, I remember you."
Fazila smiled, "hiding away from the people, Colonel, should go to HQ. Give you five-six years, you'd be 2-i-c to Salima herself."
Charlie blushed.
Fazila hugged both, "gotta run, gotta pack."
Left Sonali staring at Charlie. She didn't need to ask, her expression said it all, catatonic shock.
posted by afghangirlscifi @ 8:03 AM
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