Monday's 'victory tour' landed in a tiny Pennsylvania town called Ickesburg, snuggled at the foot of the Tuscarora Mountains. Jil selected this location for its historical significance: a native son had been the first casualty of the war in Iran - a 19-year-old Army lieutenant, Forest Green. A graduate of Tuscarora Academy, Green was one of those gung-ho 'macho' types who was all-too-eager to see 'action' in a 'war' he knew little about. All he could think of was how much 'fun' it would be to drive a HumVee, or commandeer a tank as it lumbered through minefields, exploding land mines and crushing anything that dared stand in its way. Ironically, Green had been shot by 'friendly fire" (an oxymoron if I've ever heard one) during an ambush in a sparsely-populated region of southern Iran. A military investigation concluded the incident was 'purely accidental' and sent Green's remains back to Ickesburg in an olive drab body bag clutched inside a flag-draped military coffin. There was little in the body bag that could even be identified as human remains....and the Bush administration's military leadership tended to view such corpses as "a cost of doing business", nothing else. The community knew Green, understood his reckless abandon, but still believed he deserved something more honorable than being shipped home like so much disposable military parts. Iy was Jil Adams' intention to bring a speck of human dignity and gratitude to the town of Ickesburg.
During the bus trip, Baker, Ryan, and Oetting tried to persuade Jil to wear a t-shirt they always enjoyed everytime she wore it.
Emblazoned on the front of the bright white shirt, in crimson letters, was this 14-word mantra: 'I don't cook; I don't clean; I don't put ickey things in my mouth".
Baker was the most emphatic: 'Come on, Jil. Don't you get it? 'Ickey' things? We're going to 'Ickesburg'??" Ryan chuckled in his usual unassuming way - a way that seemed tireless, yet refreshing, all at the same time. Oetting sighed and sipped on one more peapicker. As Baker kept up his indefatigable insistence, Jil tired of the barrage and retired to the back of the bus with Lynn and her "Army buddy", who had given up on beer and switched to 'buttery nipple' shots. In the way she usually does when she pouts, Jil turned up her nose and sneered at the three old farts bouncing back-and-forth in the front of the bus.
"I want this leg of the tour to be especially dignified," she puffed, "and I'll be damned if those three clowns are going to ruin it." She sent three double shots of 'buttery nipples' to the front of the bus. By the time the entourage arrived in Ickesburg, those three old farts were passed out cold. Donned in a smart powder-puff pink long-sleeved blouse and painted-on blue jeans, Jil got off the bus to greet members of a nearby Knights of Pythias lodge. Jil exhibited incredible decorum, but as she approached the microphones to speak, a few too many beers caused her to flub her solemn introduction: "I want to thank the Knights of Pissiest," she stammered, "for inviting us here on this very special occasion." Baker, Oetting, and Rayn, half-awake in the front of the bus, couldn't help but overhear - and, of course, howled in uncontrollable laughter that spilled out of the bus and into the crowd surrounding the podium. The November sun beat down on a brisk Pennsylvania day, and suddenly about seven hundred people were giggling and guffawing over the ghastly gaffe. Jil could feel her cheeks redden; but, she seemed to be the only one in the gathering that wasn't having fun with it. After a few moments, the crowd settled down and the ceremony went on while seventeen soldiers from the area honored Lt. Forest Green with a fitting tribute.
After it was all over, Jil returned to the bus. Ryan chuckled and said, 'That was pretty pissy, Missy!" Baker laughed so hard he snorted, farted, and dribbled Jim Beam all down the front of his sweater. Oetting laughed his cackly, nasal laugh as part of his peapicker poured out of his nose. Jil picked up a bus pillow and threw it at the three of them. She didn't realize it was the pillow the three boozers had been shoving their used ice into; it caught Oetting by surprise, and he fell over backwards into the seat behind him, landing face down in Sally's lap. "Well, 'ello, Govahnah," Baker mimicked in his best English accent. "If it isn't 'ickey' things, it's 'ice'!" The melting ice cubes oozed from the pillow onto Sally's lap, and all over Oetting's head. 'Get off me, you big oaf!" Sally commanded. Still a bit dazed and - by now, quite chilled - Oetting slithered into the seat next to Sally and tried his best to act well-behaved. The bus was filled with snickering O.U.T.R.A.G.E. volunteers. Since the Knights of Pythias had made no arrangements for any kind of post-ceremonial reception, the O.U.T.R.A.G.E. entourage left Ickesburg and traveled north to Highway 522, where they found a rustic, out-of-the-way restaurant and lodge that could accommodate the entire retinue. Jil had gone inside to ask the manager for a menu, and to see if a ravenous O.U.T.R.A.G.E. crowd could be served so late in the evening. When she jumped back on the bus, she said, "They say they've got plenty of food and booze for all of us! It looks like a great place to eat!" Oetting barked, "By the way, Jil, what town are we in?" Without giving it a second thought, Jil innocently announced, "Beavertown!" The howling started all over again. Jil's perky blue eyes turned wild as she felt her pleasantly pink cheeks redden for the second time in a matter of hours. Baker was rolling in the aisle, tears streaming down his blustery face as he grasped for breath between bursts of runaway laughter. This time, Bob got hit with the pillow.
During the bus trip, Baker, Ryan, and Oetting tried to persuade Jil to wear a t-shirt they always enjoyed everytime she wore it.
Emblazoned on the front of the bright white shirt, in crimson letters, was this 14-word mantra: 'I don't cook; I don't clean; I don't put ickey things in my mouth".
Baker was the most emphatic: 'Come on, Jil. Don't you get it? 'Ickey' things? We're going to 'Ickesburg'??" Ryan chuckled in his usual unassuming way - a way that seemed tireless, yet refreshing, all at the same time. Oetting sighed and sipped on one more peapicker. As Baker kept up his indefatigable insistence, Jil tired of the barrage and retired to the back of the bus with Lynn and her "Army buddy", who had given up on beer and switched to 'buttery nipple' shots. In the way she usually does when she pouts, Jil turned up her nose and sneered at the three old farts bouncing back-and-forth in the front of the bus.
"I want this leg of the tour to be especially dignified," she puffed, "and I'll be damned if those three clowns are going to ruin it." She sent three double shots of 'buttery nipples' to the front of the bus. By the time the entourage arrived in Ickesburg, those three old farts were passed out cold. Donned in a smart powder-puff pink long-sleeved blouse and painted-on blue jeans, Jil got off the bus to greet members of a nearby Knights of Pythias lodge. Jil exhibited incredible decorum, but as she approached the microphones to speak, a few too many beers caused her to flub her solemn introduction: "I want to thank the Knights of Pissiest," she stammered, "for inviting us here on this very special occasion." Baker, Oetting, and Rayn, half-awake in the front of the bus, couldn't help but overhear - and, of course, howled in uncontrollable laughter that spilled out of the bus and into the crowd surrounding the podium. The November sun beat down on a brisk Pennsylvania day, and suddenly about seven hundred people were giggling and guffawing over the ghastly gaffe. Jil could feel her cheeks redden; but, she seemed to be the only one in the gathering that wasn't having fun with it. After a few moments, the crowd settled down and the ceremony went on while seventeen soldiers from the area honored Lt. Forest Green with a fitting tribute.
After it was all over, Jil returned to the bus. Ryan chuckled and said, 'That was pretty pissy, Missy!" Baker laughed so hard he snorted, farted, and dribbled Jim Beam all down the front of his sweater. Oetting laughed his cackly, nasal laugh as part of his peapicker poured out of his nose. Jil picked up a bus pillow and threw it at the three of them. She didn't realize it was the pillow the three boozers had been shoving their used ice into; it caught Oetting by surprise, and he fell over backwards into the seat behind him, landing face down in Sally's lap. "Well, 'ello, Govahnah," Baker mimicked in his best English accent. "If it isn't 'ickey' things, it's 'ice'!" The melting ice cubes oozed from the pillow onto Sally's lap, and all over Oetting's head. 'Get off me, you big oaf!" Sally commanded. Still a bit dazed and - by now, quite chilled - Oetting slithered into the seat next to Sally and tried his best to act well-behaved. The bus was filled with snickering O.U.T.R.A.G.E. volunteers. Since the Knights of Pythias had made no arrangements for any kind of post-ceremonial reception, the O.U.T.R.A.G.E. entourage left Ickesburg and traveled north to Highway 522, where they found a rustic, out-of-the-way restaurant and lodge that could accommodate the entire retinue. Jil had gone inside to ask the manager for a menu, and to see if a ravenous O.U.T.R.A.G.E. crowd could be served so late in the evening. When she jumped back on the bus, she said, "They say they've got plenty of food and booze for all of us! It looks like a great place to eat!" Oetting barked, "By the way, Jil, what town are we in?" Without giving it a second thought, Jil innocently announced, "Beavertown!" The howling started all over again. Jil's perky blue eyes turned wild as she felt her pleasantly pink cheeks redden for the second time in a matter of hours. Baker was rolling in the aisle, tears streaming down his blustery face as he grasped for breath between bursts of runaway laughter. This time, Bob got hit with the pillow.
posted by Bushwacker! at 11:47 AM
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