Same problem, father?


Afraid so, my boy.




Would you be so kind as to bring me some reading material... and some Dulcolax?
Mohammed?
I could use some help in here.
Father, you know what the doctor said about....
Father, you take any more Dulcolax, you'll damage the nerves in your colon.
Listen...
Son, your concern for my colon is truly heartwarming.
However, my colon and I don't have much time left on this earth, and I do have more important struggles to attend to than this one.
I wish you wouldn't say such things, father. You're still a young man.
Oh, don't be such a baby, Mohammed. You have eyes. You can see my time is coming soon.
I just hope that when you're my age, you don't suffer the same health problems I'm having.
Let me offer you a word of advice...
Eat your vegetables.
My problems really began 20 years ago, when I spent that year with the mujahedeen in the high mountains, eating nothing but Soviet dry rations for 9 months.
The other soldiers -- all native Afghans -- carried onions with them. Ate them the way you and I would eat figs. But I couldn't stomach onions, so all I ate was canned meat and crackers. Not a single vegetable for 9 months....
That diet tore my asshole inside out.
I was in such bleeding, itching pain, every waking moment... but I was too embarrassed to tell anybody.
The mujahedeen already regarded me as a soft-bodied rich boy playing at jihad. Think how they would have laughed at me if I'd complained about hemorrhoids.
Subsequently I gained a reputation as a brave fighter among the mujahedeen. Men respected me for my courage. I became a great leader, then I started compiling the Base, and.... well, you know the rest of the story.
Only one thing could take my mind off that horrible, constant pain -- Charging into enemy fire.
Whenever my platoon encountered the Soviets, I was always the first to rush at them. I didn't care if I lived or died -- I'd do anything to escape that burning, throbbing agony of my rectum.
There is an object lesson to this tale, Mohammed. Beyond a simple admonition to eat your vegetables, remember this...
...You have no idea what private agony he may secretly be struggling with.
Show kindness to every person you meet. No matter how ill-tempered a man may seem....
Ahem....
Corporal Bendicio.
Come in.
Lieutenant Miller, ma'am.
General Conchis will speak with you now.
Class A dress greens, Lieutenant! I've ordered you released from psychiatric observation.
Tomorrow 0630 Kabul time, you'll board a C-40B, destination Washington D.C... And when you arrive -- I'm pleased to tell you this, Lieutenant....
At ease, Lieutenant.
I have good news.
Good afternoon, Lieutenant.
Lieutenant.... before any further hilarity erupts in this room.... here's a concept you might want to warm up to:
You're speaking to the only person in the Armed Forces right now who's authorized to fish your ass out of the loony bin.
So unless you really want me to think you're crazy....
... The next few words out of your mouth had better be very carefully chosen, Lieutenant.
Probably something relating to your Senate testimony.

.......Lieutenant.........
We seem to have started off on the wrong foot here...
....................................
Let's hit the reset button on this conversation, shall we? I need to speak with you on urgent matters.
Absolutely,
General.
But before we can proceed, there's something I need from you.
An apology, Lieutenant?
   No sir.   
Coffee.
Y'see, General, I'm not the complaining type. Even if I'm exposed to an experimental nerve agent on the battlefield, then locked away in a psycho ward in Kabul, and forgotten about by my COs -- hey, I'm a soldier. Shit happens.
And even if my brain's boiling in my skull... and milk's leaking out of my tits... and the whole time, the doctors keep telling me to my face there's nothing wrongwith me...
... That's all just par for the fuckin' course, ain't it?
But there's one torture I can't handle, General:
Bad coffee.
Like the shit they serve in this hospital. So weak you can see through it, and tastes like peanuts boiled in gym socks.
It's been a living hell, General.
Sorry, Miller, I can't seem to locate the "piss Frappuccino" button on this spider.
Captain Serling's got a stash of whole bean French roast his wife sends him from the states. A pot of that shit would make me a most agreeable lass... y'know what I'm saying?
Ahem....
Corporal Bendicio.
Sir?
Please relay my order to Captain Serling's office; a pot of fresh coffee is to be brought to Lieutenant Miller's room, on the double.
Lieutenant Miller, ma'am, where --
On the chair,
please.
Yes ma'am.
Right away,
sir.