Rick, we’ve got to decide if we’re gonna truck or train these weapons to Addis Ababa. We need the lay of the land and there are no maps worth a shit in this sphincter of a country.
So, I have an idea. Italians don’t fly at night. Or early morning. Or sunset. Or fog. Or rain. Or full moon. Or no moon. Or harvest moon. Or when they’re menstruating. In their emenuensis. Or when their pussies hurt, bleed, cry or fall out. , Or threats of any of them. Bankers hours bombers only. But when they do those fucking mosquito Marchettis are bad news. What this for us though is we have 2 fly windows each day.
At BMNT tomorrow, you and I will fly your plane along the rail line to Addis Ababa. I’ll drive.
Captain, Hermione is my plane, I fly her.
No you’ll be too busy drawing pictures. As we go, you’ll draw your pretty pictures. You’ll sketch the route. I need sector sketches from you.
At EENT we take off from Addis to come back.
You will capture the rail line, obstacles, chokepoints, gradients, crossings.
…
In Addis, we’ll spend all day at the hookah, or whores. As a professional courtesy, I leave that decision up to you.
Why does it have to be either/or?
The hookah makes you go all whiskey-dick. Didn’t you know that?
Oh.
Yes.
No fuckee then?
Correct Zup. You’ll just stand there proudly with a dead eel in your hand.
Hmmm, not my best side.
[ Walks a circle around Zup. ]
Just as I expected. Zup, you don’t have a best side.
My piece of ass is on your tab, Captain.
Sure. I expected carrying charges.
Rick, while we’re on recon, you’ll get our raghead brethren to sling-load and stretch-wrap this shit onto pallets. You make them truck trailer width but if we go by rail you can load two pallets side by side. Everytime a Greek ship comes in they leave a mountain of pallets on the dock. Get those before the hajis burn them.