The poor dear was delirious. While Bub was talking to the pig (a diversion really, just to keep the guards off their... uhm, guard) Rambi silently secreted herself into his temporary refuge. She was clearly in need of sleep. The air travel, complimentary Uruguayan Chardonnay, and ceaseless jungle recon were obviously taking their toll. She slumped against the side of the insouciant porker and said "Nice pig, Bubble Yum."
"Huh?" inquired a surprised Bub. She wasn't usually this unstrung.
Then he continued. "Lissen, I think I know our ticket out of heah."
"No, but I got a little something so's that big chicken won't fillet your little fishie." She giggled, then squirmed artlessly against her animate Ottoman, reached into her thong in a most unladylike manner, and produced an RPG-7, enameled a lovely pearl white with a tasteful monogram on the warhead.
Bub got up, accepted the gift, and scratched his chin. "Ah wondah jes how you do taht."
Rambi lurched to her feet, upsetting the pig and the bucket upon which Bub had been sitting.
"You fool", he cried. She was going to draw the guards!
"Doan hurt your pretty little ass with that peashooter", she slurred.
"Not to worry. I done used these before. I may not need it. If Mah plan works, I can use that Meskin lookin naked gal as the lever to bring this place down."
"You are so sickly carnal. Men!!" Rambi griped, her face a mixed palette of disgust and delirium.
Bub held her shoulders in his hands, looked her in her eyes and said "Git some shuteye. You're a danger to y'se'f lahk this."
Worse, Bub reflected sourly. Tomorrow she was going to remember this little interlude all different. There was no way he could win. Well, he reflected philosophically, he would bear this cross silently.
Bub secreted the RPG under his vest, which the guards had amazingly failed to remove. It snugged in rather nicely next to his damascus fighting knife. |
