One Short Story & One Flash Fiction Story By Kenneth M Kapp

 

I Heard It from a Friend

Short Story

By Kenneth M Kapp

 

            That’s usually how it goes. My drinking buddy has a friend who was a Green Beret. OK, so it was from a friend of a friend. They got to talking last week and this Green Beret tells him how he got an email from an old buddy in his platoon – they had served together in Kuwait in 1991 – telling him how he had run into Captain Riley in the local watering hole. “OUR Captain Riley! He looked great considering how he was blown up by that IED. Cheerful and bubbling no end. Said he was just visiting, wanting to set the record straight.”

            Anyhow, this Captain Riley made him take notes on what he was telling them. “Valuable intel like this you won’t get a second time so get it right the first time. Told him to write it down like it was a story in case it falls into enemy hands.

            My drinking buddy gave me a print-out. Says it was an attachment in that email he got. His Green Beret friend said that he was one of the ODAs at that table in the story below that he wrote down like Captain Riley said to do.   

Listen Up

            Three ODA’s [Operational Detachment-A] sergeants saluted and sat down at the table. When your 18A puts out the word you come.

            “Listen up.” Captain Riley’s forearms flanked his beer and shot glass. “I taught you: you’re captured – first thing you do is start planning your escape.”

            He drained half his ale. “Easy enough picking up a cloud puff here and threads there. Light enough to scrunch and conceal. Soon you’ve enough for an all-white ghillie suit.”

            He slid the glass of scotch closer to the beer. “You wait until they get careless; maybe when they bring you the next round. Ask them to sit down while you pop behind the cloud to relieve yourself. Then it’s sayonara – you just rappel down here and reconnect with your team.”

            Stinger, the intelligence sergeant, coughed into his fist. “OK, you’re supposed to escape, we understand that. But from what you said, you’re getting all the beer and scotch you want. So what’s the problem?”

            “Problem is, I didn’t give a rat’s ass they gave me beer and blended scotch. The chain of command sucked at the highest levels and there no single malts which I like!” 

 

Out on the Prairie

Flash Fiction Story

By Kenneth M Kapp

 

Hank was a big jackrabbit with a thin skin and didn’t like jokes about his size.

Willy advised. “You’re overly sensitive. So what if people ask if you’re a jackalope – if that’s your picture on the postcard. No harm in that, right?”

Hank wrinkled his nose, stepping right up to Willy’s face. “Jackalope?”

Willy pushed back, bumping his friend’s hip. “Jackalope!”

Hank hopped back, and Willy again caught him in the hip – yelling and pushing.

The rabbit warren was joined by the neighbouring prairie dogs, shouting encouragement.

And thusly was hip hop born on the prairie.

Kenneth M. Kapp - Ken was a Professor of Mathematics, a ceramicist, a welder, an IBMer, and yoga teacher. He lives with his wife in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, writing late at night in his man-cave. He enjoys chamber music and mysteries. He's a homebrewer and runs white water rivers. His essays appear online in havokjournal.com and shepherdexpress.com.

Please visit http://www.kmkbooks.com.