Nace Bilby
ACME
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[Rated PG-13 for language]
November 4, 2006
Now Zad, Afghanistan
"Bloody trench poet you are." Mad Max remarked as he flipped through a page of the book he was reading during a bit of downtime on the rooftop.
The man he was addressing, Nace Bilby, sat with his rifle on his lap and writing on a sheet of paper. He barely broke stride in his writing to flip Max off which caused Ajay and Cecil to start chuckling.
"Seriously, Nace, you are a bloody trench poet." Mad Max remarked, "I mean there are a couple computers on the base you can use to write an email. Why write a sodding letter?"
"There's something quaint about getting a letter." Nace replied casually.
"Wonder what he's writing?" Cecil remarked.
Max cleared his voice and said in the most poetic way a fellow who resembles a football hooligan can, "Dearest Evey, Here I sit bored atop a roof in the arsehole of the Hindu Kush, otherwise known as Afghanistan. Cecil's slowly poisoning the lot of us with his chain smoking..."
"Fuck off..." Cecil quipped, holding a lit cigarette between his lips.
"Ajay's hosting yet another movie marathon on his laptop, probably another sodding Bollywood drama." Max continued.
"Don't blame me for your lack of culture, Max." Ajay replied as he was sitting at his laptop, indeed with one earphone in watching a drama from Bollywood.
"So who's killing who, or who's fucking who?" Cecil replied as he headed over to watch the movie that Ajay was just watching.
"Mail call." Came a voice from the stairs, as Stan came up the stairs with mail.
Stan handed the mail out to each individual soldier sitting about on the rooftop. Nace beamed when he got an envelope with Evey's delicate penmanship on it.
Nace tucked the letter he was writing into his pocket and had just opened the letter from Evey when Mad Max snatched it out of hand.
"Hey, what the hell?" Nace remarked.
Mad Max, made a not at all convincing attempt to sound like a young woman born and raised in London, "Dear Nace."
Snickering started from among the other troops on the roof. Nace decided he would rather not risk damaging the letter by trying to tear it out of Max's hand as the latter held it up and continued an entirely unconvincing impression of Evey.
Max took a sniff of the paper, "Somebody put a bit of perfume into this one."
"You wanker." Nace replied.
"Your letter arrived yesterday and I hope you're well. It was sweet to get a letter from you and I think I'm going to make an album of your letters of late." Max continued, "I do hope you appreciate the dab of perfume, I hope it travelled well and that it reminds you of me."
"How sweet." Ajay quipped, pausing his movie.
"Tell Cecil I said hi." Max said, and then broke from his impression of Evey before remarking, "She knows Cecil?"
"They're coworkers in the real world, dickhead." Nace replied.
"Whatever." Max remarked, then went straight back into his impression, "And let him know that Ruth and I made sure Cecil's desk is the model of efficiency and organization."
"Oh Wot!?!? Tell Evey she shouldn't have. Literally. That's my system of organization she and Ruth were messing with." Cecil remarked barely noticing that with his first words his cigarette had fallen out of his mouth.
"System of organization my arse." Nace replied, "Your desk looks like a grenade exploded in one of the drawers."
At this laughter began to echo, given Cecil's camp bed was equally as discheveled looking, as was the little corner of the ops room he usually worked in.
"I have to say your letters make your mates come alive whenever I read them." Max continued and then broke from his impression of Evey yet again to say, "You write about us?"
"What the hell else would I write about other than sitting in the middle of Afghanistan? Besides things like contacts and the like we get into aren't exactly things I want to tell my girlfriend." Nace replied.
"So what do you tell her about us, exactly?" Ajay asked.
"Will you sodding let me continue." Mad Max replied, then yet again clearing his throat and failing to impersonate a young woman from. London, "Seems like Mad Max is exactly the sort of person you'd want around if you're in a bar brawl. However be sure to tell him Go Arsenal for me."
Nace and several others laughed at Max, given he was the solitary Manchester United fan on that rooftop.
"There's no accounting for bad taste." Mad Max quipped before continuing on his impression, "Tell Ajay congratulations on the triplets."
Mad Max once again broke from his impression, "Triplets, wot sort of fertility treatments is your wife on? And three mini Ajay's..."
"Better than one miniature you." Ajay quipped, "Propogating bad taste in sports. How foul."
More laughter at the expense of Mad Max followed as Sergeant Angel came up the stairs, "What's going on?"
"Just finishing a reading aloud of a letter Nace's girlfriend wrote him." Max replied, before going back into his impression, "Sergeant Angel seems like he's guaranteed to be the chief constable wherever he should fetch up."
Angel let his lips curve up with a slight grin as Max continued, "I also wanted you to know that I finished the bit of shopping you requested. I can't wait to see you again, please be safe. Love, Evey."
"What bit of shopping?" Max asked as he handed Nace the letter again.
"Let's just say my next care package will contain an item that best fits each of you, and that it was supposed to be a surprise." Nace replied with a grin.
"What did you ask her to get?" Max replied.
"You'll see, mate. Consider those my Christmas gifts for you lot." Nace replied. Downtime and boredom sure did a lot to people under these circumstances, and despite having had Evey's letter read aloud to his mates on the roof Nace had to smile. It felt good to hear from her from many thousands of kilometers distance, even with Mad Max's utter butchery of an impression of Evey.
He he took his letter out and continued to work and noticed Mad Max looming over him, "Oi, tell Evey thank you for all of us."
"Right." Nace said before signing his letter off, sticking it in the envelope with the stamp already pasted to its top right corner and walking downstairs to get it ready to mail.
November 4, 2006
Now Zad, Afghanistan
"Bloody trench poet you are." Mad Max remarked as he flipped through a page of the book he was reading during a bit of downtime on the rooftop.
The man he was addressing, Nace Bilby, sat with his rifle on his lap and writing on a sheet of paper. He barely broke stride in his writing to flip Max off which caused Ajay and Cecil to start chuckling.
"Seriously, Nace, you are a bloody trench poet." Mad Max remarked, "I mean there are a couple computers on the base you can use to write an email. Why write a sodding letter?"
"There's something quaint about getting a letter." Nace replied casually.
"Wonder what he's writing?" Cecil remarked.
Max cleared his voice and said in the most poetic way a fellow who resembles a football hooligan can, "Dearest Evey, Here I sit bored atop a roof in the arsehole of the Hindu Kush, otherwise known as Afghanistan. Cecil's slowly poisoning the lot of us with his chain smoking..."
"Fuck off..." Cecil quipped, holding a lit cigarette between his lips.
"Ajay's hosting yet another movie marathon on his laptop, probably another sodding Bollywood drama." Max continued.
"Don't blame me for your lack of culture, Max." Ajay replied as he was sitting at his laptop, indeed with one earphone in watching a drama from Bollywood.
"So who's killing who, or who's fucking who?" Cecil replied as he headed over to watch the movie that Ajay was just watching.
"Mail call." Came a voice from the stairs, as Stan came up the stairs with mail.
Stan handed the mail out to each individual soldier sitting about on the rooftop. Nace beamed when he got an envelope with Evey's delicate penmanship on it.
Nace tucked the letter he was writing into his pocket and had just opened the letter from Evey when Mad Max snatched it out of hand.
"Hey, what the hell?" Nace remarked.
Mad Max, made a not at all convincing attempt to sound like a young woman born and raised in London, "Dear Nace."
Snickering started from among the other troops on the roof. Nace decided he would rather not risk damaging the letter by trying to tear it out of Max's hand as the latter held it up and continued an entirely unconvincing impression of Evey.
Max took a sniff of the paper, "Somebody put a bit of perfume into this one."
"You wanker." Nace replied.
"Your letter arrived yesterday and I hope you're well. It was sweet to get a letter from you and I think I'm going to make an album of your letters of late." Max continued, "I do hope you appreciate the dab of perfume, I hope it travelled well and that it reminds you of me."
"How sweet." Ajay quipped, pausing his movie.
"Tell Cecil I said hi." Max said, and then broke from his impression of Evey before remarking, "She knows Cecil?"
"They're coworkers in the real world, dickhead." Nace replied.
"Whatever." Max remarked, then went straight back into his impression, "And let him know that Ruth and I made sure Cecil's desk is the model of efficiency and organization."
"Oh Wot!?!? Tell Evey she shouldn't have. Literally. That's my system of organization she and Ruth were messing with." Cecil remarked barely noticing that with his first words his cigarette had fallen out of his mouth.
"System of organization my arse." Nace replied, "Your desk looks like a grenade exploded in one of the drawers."
At this laughter began to echo, given Cecil's camp bed was equally as discheveled looking, as was the little corner of the ops room he usually worked in.
"I have to say your letters make your mates come alive whenever I read them." Max continued and then broke from his impression of Evey yet again to say, "You write about us?"
"What the hell else would I write about other than sitting in the middle of Afghanistan? Besides things like contacts and the like we get into aren't exactly things I want to tell my girlfriend." Nace replied.
"So what do you tell her about us, exactly?" Ajay asked.
"Will you sodding let me continue." Mad Max replied, then yet again clearing his throat and failing to impersonate a young woman from. London, "Seems like Mad Max is exactly the sort of person you'd want around if you're in a bar brawl. However be sure to tell him Go Arsenal for me."
Nace and several others laughed at Max, given he was the solitary Manchester United fan on that rooftop.
"There's no accounting for bad taste." Mad Max quipped before continuing on his impression, "Tell Ajay congratulations on the triplets."
Mad Max once again broke from his impression, "Triplets, wot sort of fertility treatments is your wife on? And three mini Ajay's..."
"Better than one miniature you." Ajay quipped, "Propogating bad taste in sports. How foul."
More laughter at the expense of Mad Max followed as Sergeant Angel came up the stairs, "What's going on?"
"Just finishing a reading aloud of a letter Nace's girlfriend wrote him." Max replied, before going back into his impression, "Sergeant Angel seems like he's guaranteed to be the chief constable wherever he should fetch up."
Angel let his lips curve up with a slight grin as Max continued, "I also wanted you to know that I finished the bit of shopping you requested. I can't wait to see you again, please be safe. Love, Evey."
"What bit of shopping?" Max asked as he handed Nace the letter again.
"Let's just say my next care package will contain an item that best fits each of you, and that it was supposed to be a surprise." Nace replied with a grin.
"What did you ask her to get?" Max replied.
"You'll see, mate. Consider those my Christmas gifts for you lot." Nace replied. Downtime and boredom sure did a lot to people under these circumstances, and despite having had Evey's letter read aloud to his mates on the roof Nace had to smile. It felt good to hear from her from many thousands of kilometers distance, even with Mad Max's utter butchery of an impression of Evey.
He he took his letter out and continued to work and noticed Mad Max looming over him, "Oi, tell Evey thank you for all of us."
"Right." Nace said before signing his letter off, sticking it in the envelope with the stamp already pasted to its top right corner and walking downstairs to get it ready to mail.
