View Full Version : A Rude Surprise for Rommel
Just to liven things up a little around here :cheeky:
May 1942
Pre dawn
60 km SSW of Tobruk, Libya:
General Erwin Rommel sits in his desert camoflauged command tent going over the reports of the night before. His signature goggles, taken from General Richard O'Conner a year ago, sit on the desk in front of him and as he looks upon them, Rommel thinks not for the first time about the fickle fortunes of war. Today he hopes to drive to Tobruk, storm that great fortress, and bring victory and glory to himself and his men. He hopes to deprive his adversaries of the same things. His plan is daring, the men in good spirits, and there seems to be enough petrol and ammunition to sustain the drive. There is only one nagging concern; last night, sentries captured a curious SAS captain equipped with even curiouser gear. He had water squirting lapels, (which he used to temporarily blind his captors and briefly escaped, though his flight was impeded by his over size clown boots and he was quickly re captured)joy buzzers, a rubber chicken, and a mouse trap disguised as a chewing gum packet. He also had a gold rimmed pint glass with the King's coat of arms etched onto it, a yo -yo, and a large whoopy cushion emblazoned with the Union Jack (he was placing this in the passenger seat of Rommel's Storch when he was captured). All of the captured gear sat on the desk. What did it all mean? What was the wily SAS up to? The captive was being softened up before interrogation, and Rommel is hoping to interview him personaly within the hour. Perplexed by the oddity, he pours water from a canteen into the captured pint glass and starts to take a drink when his adjutant announces himself.
"Herr General?"
Rommel puts the untasted water down. "Enter."
His adjutant, dusty from a recent motorcycle trip enters and stands at attention.
"Yes, what have you learned?" Rommel queries.
"There are more of them sir, the SAS. The Italians captured an entire company stuffed into a small car. They said they were going to a Shriner convention, but each one of them to a man was equipped like the one last night. Also, our engineers who were clearing a route through the British minefields report 2 of their men were nearly frightened to death, and are in grave condition from peanut brittle snake can attacks. It seems the cans of so called "peanut brittle" were left conspicuously in the minefields, and our poor lads really had a rough time of it. What do you think the Tommies are up to sir?"
Rommel pauses for a moment, his brow furrows as he tries to deduce the intent of the British. "I am not sure Colonel. But it would appear they are preparing some sort of "rude surprise". With that he takes up the pint glass and drinks deeply, and as he does so, the nature of the glass becomes apparent, as he dribbles water all over his tunic and medals!
"AGHH!! Curse those British and their dribble glasses!" he roars, standing up quickly and knocking over his makeshift desk, strewing papers and captured practical joke paraphenelia all over the tent. His adjutant is there instantly, attempting to sop up the water before his General's medals rust, while reams of paper float about the place, laconically making their way to the ground.
"Stop that you fool!" Rommel shouts. "Get me that SAS captain! NOW!"
His adjutant runs out of the tent, and Rommel's gaze fixes upon his trophy field glasses, on the floor with a crack in the left lense. Livid, the general awaits the return of SAS Captain Nigel Townshend, Commander Company A, Practical Joke Battalion. Rommel plans to get to the bottom of this!
To be continued...(by me or anybody who would be amused to do so themselves :) )
This is obviously inspired by the current round of the Roookie tourney.
Well I hope someone picks this up for another chapter....I was just gettin into it....and I hate reading.
Very clever.
Cheers,
Ray
Gnrl Confusion
06 Aug 05, 12:10
As the Field Marshall wipes the dribbled sasparilla from his formerly clean white tunic an evil thought slowly crosses his orderly Germanic mind. "I'll get even with those bastards", he says. "I know just the man for the job and Full Monty willing, he's still alive. GET ME CONFUSION!"
[Up funny music]
[Up circus lights]
[Close up handsome General surrounded by hundreds of scantily clothed ladies]
[Up well you know]
[Fade to black]
can always depend on a Bracken brother to bring a smile on.
Cheers,
Ray
Full Monty
06 Aug 05, 14:32
Shaking himself back to conciousness, Rommel wondered at the brief vision of the future. 'Field Marshal' eh! I'll be walking the streets of Baghdad!!
His mind still clouded by the drugged water, he gazed out of his tent into the moonless night and wondered at the quiet of it all. How long had he lain on the tent floor? Had his mighty army abandoned him? Suddenly he felt a tickling sensation behind his ears but before he could react his adjutant removed the cotton wool that had been driven into his outer ear canals!
"Where is Townshend?" barked Rommel! The story of Captain Townshend's escape from the clutches of the Afrika Korps would inspire legions of schoolboys across the globe for decades to come.
jesdazone2
07 Aug 05, 04:05
As Townshed walked the lonely backwaters of the little town of Barista, Tunisia, his mind wandered, ok so now that i have fully insulted the great Field MArshal Rommel and made my escape from the clutches of his evil henchmen and local interrogators (the notorious riddlers from ramstein). I need to be able to get back home and tell of my exploits so that i can inspire generations of graduates from the Hempstead on the Main Military College of practical jokes. Alas with no transport in site it may be very difficult on the shoe leather to get home. Just at that moment Bin Suad Mon sharm el Shekster came into view towing his usual allotment of slight used camels that were only driven to market on Sundays by little old Women in burkas. Upon seeing this Townshed patted his pockets and remebered that he still had the script from the game of monopoly he was playing the night he was captured. If i can only convince him that this stuff is real now. Walkign up to BS Townshed began the conversation with his usual ploy of saying my my my what a fine looking group of camels you have there BS do you think that you may want to part with one. With that BS snorted sniffed and scratched his armpit then sniffed again and say just who in the FULL MONTY do you think you are kidding here, I know of you, the word is out you are the leader of the battalion of practical jokers that insulted Rommel just his past fortnight and man is he ever ticked at you, my goodness man there is a 2000000 sheckle reward (about $1.18) for you dead or alive and even more if the dreaded whoppee cushion and dribble glass are returned along with you. BS continued on and said even though I despise the damned FULL MONTY Germans almost as much as I do the italians I think I dislike the British even more with their Pinky extended warm ale drinking hoighty toighty attitude. Just at that moment Townshed pulled his rolled up wad of monoply money from his pocket and said do you think this might change you attitude my Arab friend, with that BS became quite contrite and amenable with his newly found pigeon ummmm errr friend and proceeded to sell him a slightly used camel by the name of YUGO ....................
(cut scene) lights dim and the sunrise screen slides into place as our hero begins his long journey home withthe hated Germans hot in pursuit (and yes Townshed got a two humper camel to boot)
(cut scene 2) lights brighten and Townshed finds himself arriving on the shores of Sicily for some unknown reason witha raging hangover and crotch itch from the fleas of a thousand camels........
Townshend sat on the beach looking about and tried not to scratch his flea bitten crotch. Then he realized it wasn't just his crotch, he was flea bitten all over, and what's worse, the salt from the sea was making the bites hurt. Many of the bites were infected, and he was feverish and weak.
He looked around and noticed the Whoopie cushion he had taken with him when he quickly fled Rommel's tent...2 or three weeks ago? Who would have thought it would make such an excellent flotation device? He had plans for all Royal Navy and RAF personel to be equipped with these, after he was elected Prime Minister for his heroic war exploits...But then there was the here and now -a lonely stretch of beach in Sicily -of which he is ignorant of the fact that that is where he is. Townshend, using a pencil as a navigational device, remembered now that he had plotted a course for Gibralter, and so was going under the assumption that he was indeed in friendly territory. He found it hard to remember much past getting squeezed out of the passenger window of the clown car and setting the peanut brittle cans up in the mine field during the initial raid. He vaguely remembered finding his way alone to the German encampment, hoping the best for the company, but determined to carry out his mission. He had placed the greased whoopy cushion in Rommel's plane when he was captured, and despite heroically squirting one of the guards in the face with his lapels, he was rendered unconcious during his subsequent flight; unfortunately one of his over sized clown boots tripped him, and he hit his head on a rock. AFter that, there was the interview with Rommel, and Rommel took his boots from him as trophies! Townshend remembered his impotent anger at that affront! You were only issued those boots after a 6 month, grueling training course with the Royal Militray Circus and a 8 week stint at The Prince of Wales Vaudeville Academy".
"Break my goggles will you!" Rommel ranted at him as he watched in horror as the leader of his captors laced the boots onto his own Teutonic feet himself! "I must have British accroutements! It is the best way to demoralize your enemy, see?" he had told him.
Townshend was putting the pieces together, trying to remember the details of his escape from that tent (without his boots, there had been no time!)when he suddenly saw a periscope from the sea! As soon as he saw it, it ducked beneath the waves. He rubbed his eyes, and looked again, and the periscope was there again -just breaking the surface of the waves. "Ours or theirs?" he murmered, absent mindedly scratching his flea bites. Was Gibralter being invaded? If only he knew he was in Sicily!
"Oh bother!" he said to himself, "Gerry couldn't park subs just off Gibralter?!" and with that he began waving the whoopy cushion, boldly emblazoned with the Union Jack, shouting, his voice cracking "Over here lads! Good show!"
Slowly the German U-Boat surfaced, and as Townshend waved to them, they sent a boat with an armed detachment to the shore, led by a certain General Confusion.....
Irwin and Fatima made their way down the steep enbankment to the edge of the quiet lake. Irwin's head was spinning with excitement. True, incest was largely frowned upon in the staid Duchy of Munchkin and Fatima was his half-sister, but today...today she had agreed to be the other half!
While the 13 year-old Irwin was just beginning to mature, Fatima (three years his senior) was in the full flower of womanhood. As she casually disrobed, Irwin's excitement grew until it could no longer be contained.
A bemused Fatima looked down at the young Irwin. "Boy, talk about a dribble glass", she said. Then, without another word, she dove into the lake and headed for the far shore.
It would be many years before he would see her again....
[Sorry, but we're never going to be able to sell this without a few pointless flashbacks.]
Irwin and Fatima made their way down the steep enbankment to the edge of the quiet lake. Irwin's head was spinning with excitement. True, incest was largely frowned upon in the staid Duchy of Munchkin and Fatima was his half-sister, but today...today she had agreed to be the other half!
While the 13 year-old Irwin was just beginning to mature, Fatima (three years his senior) was in the full flower of womanhood. As she casually disrobed, Irwin's excitement grew until it could no longer be contained.
A bemused Fatima looked down at the young Irwin. "Boy, talk about a dibble glass", she said. Then, without another word, she dove into the lake and headed for the far shore.
It would be many years before he would see her again....
[Sorry, but we're never going to be able to sell this without a few pointless flashbacks.]
:laugh: :laugh: :laugh: :laugh: :laugh: :laugh: :laugh:
Rommel awoke with a start. "Fatima?" he asked the hot stillness of his empty tent, looking around for a moment in total confusion.
Then it came to him, he was in Africa. "Just a dream.." he muttered, and then he remembered: "Dribble glass! Agh!!" and buried his head in his pillow! That bastard Townshend! Through 2 world wars Rommel had buried the embarrassment of that first juvenile encounter, but now, 3 weeks after the incident with the British commando he had dreamt about Fatima and his...juvenille impotence every night! It was undermining his entire being!
The General got up and went to his desk and began to rifle through reports. It was no use, he couldn't think straight. He was obsessed with Townshend's recapture -nothing else would do to mollify his bruised ego -not even the capture of Tobruk! Damnit! Why had Confusion not reported back yet! After that dreaded night, Rommel had summoned him from the Playboy Mansion (ok, so Hugh hadn't built it yet- but this IS just a story folks!)where he was performing important duties in negotiation for the Reich (little did anyone know that Confusion was playing all sides against the others -he had the Axis and the Allies totally surrounded! He was a poly-agent!)
"Yeah, I can find him, Mack, " Confusion told Rommel after flying in. The entire interview took place on the airstrip. "But it will cost you a little something in return," he had gone on to say, chomping on an unlit cigar as he did so.
Rommel imediately became defensive. "Not my new British Commando Clown Boots?! He broke my goggles Confusion- I must have these boots!"
Confusion made a dismissive gesture. "Hell, I don't want the boots Herr Mack. I want a favor. I do you a favor, you do me a favor, see? That's how we do things in the States. One hand washes the other. So, whaddya think, Bub?"
Rommel was pensive. In the distance he could hear the droan of an airplane. A fly settled on his nose. He started to wisp it away, but before he could Confusion had snatched it and ate it. Rommel winced in disgust.
Confusion took in Rommel's expression. "What? It's just some protein. Hell, you've never been through survival school in the Phillipine jungle, have you? You Germans act all tough, but frankly, I think you are a bunch of pansies. Now how about it? You want I should get this Limey for you, or should I go back to the Playboy Mansion right now? I dropped a lot of important jobs to come here . C'mon Mack, I need to know." He glanced at his wrist watch.
Rommel bit his lip. "What kind of favor?" he asked.
"Dunno Fritzie. I'll let you know when I do though. So you want this guy or what?"
Rommel looked grimly at Confusion. "Yes, I do. I will owe you a favor, but I want Townshend, and I want him alive -other wise, all bets are off!"
Confusion nodded. "Alright then. I best get going." And with that, he lit his cigar and walked off into the desert, and Rommel hadn't heard from him since, other than a radio cipher that told him he was hitching a ride on a U boat to Sicily, hot on the trail.
Rommel put his head in his hands and tried to focus on the current campaign. It soon became apparent that it was no use. "Dribble glass! Aghh!!"he shouted and with an oath swept the paper work from the desk and stormed out of his tent. Then he remembered his boots, came back in, laced them up, kicked over the garbage can with a new and improved oath, and stormed out again!
jesdazone2
10 Aug 05, 21:02
God it feels so good to be away from the war for even a few moments as Townshed reclined on the beach unaware of the group of Germans that were slowly paddling their bright yellow raft, decorated with duckies all along the fringe of the raft. As their paddles slowly steered the raft towards shore their leader Jesdazone rubbed his hand with glee at last revenge for Rommel, it has been so long coming, I dont believe I have ever seen the Field MArshal so upset at least not since the last time he got BBQ on his brank new white tunic after the routing of the American forces at Kasserine Pass.
With a sudden start one of the commandos sneezed and as the sound echoed across the water it prompted Townshed into action, he arose with a start from his reclining position on the beach grabbed his Brave Britannia beach towel and sunscreen SPF 45 (my own social commentary as required by the local MPAA affilliate for the public good) bottle of Sicilian home grown wine and began to hightail it back toward the path leading up the cliff, not aware of the local goathearder Vito Corlene, was just at that moment bringing his prize winning goats to the edge of the water for some frolick time before they were shipped off for ritual sacrifice to some demigod named Full Monty. As he stumbled over the lead young snow white goat and cursed the German commandos surrounded him and leveled their guns toward him and Jesdazone screamed at him in broken English so you Eniglish swine you think you could insult the great German hero Rommel and get away with it ha ha ha ha ha, I cant wait to see what he has in store for you when we take you back to him. At that very moment sensing the dire straights he was in Townshed grabbed the leg of the goat he tripped over and with his many years of training at the English academy of clown tactis began to swing around his head in a ever widing circle first hitting one german then another then another until they were all laying around him in a semicircle of goat feces and urine (damn goats have no bladder control). As the Germans writhed on the ground in agony and filth Townshed began to climb the path back to the top of the cliff and upon arriving there met with the goatherder Vito Corlene who bore a amazing resemblance to one person who had stuffed klennex into his jowls, Vito in his almost perfect English began to speak and asked Townshed just were did he learn such tactics as he saw displayed before him. Townshed realted his education to Vito from the Royal Academy of clown tactics etc. Vito asked Townshed because you cost me one of my prized ritual goats i think you now owe me a favor and i havea offer you cant refuse back in town, Napolio there is a woman who has been told has a great secret that she needs to get back to England about Rommel and his supposed lack of manhood would you please allow her to accompany you on your journey back home as she is endangering all of us here as she tends to drink to much and then comes down to the beach that you were jsut on and frolicks naked in the water prompting the germans to patrol this area just a little to diligently and it is starting to effect my olive oil export business to my brother in Argentina. Townshed scratched his head tehnhis crotch then his arm from the flea bites and nodded his head in agreement......................................... ..........
and away we go someone else pick it up here
By 1895, the tiny Duchy of Munchkin, which was to play such a large part in the development of young Irwin, lay sandwiched between the much larger Frei Stadt Of Rheno ("Open all nicht!") and a piece of bread. Munchkin had traded hands repeatedly over the millenia, having been successively conquered by the Romans, Goths, Vandals, Jurks, Huns, Pipsqueeks, Olmecs, Cheyennes, Naysayers, Danes, Goufbauls and Thespians. The citizens were finally saved from further incursions by the genius of Grand Duke Marvin II, who in 1659 outsmarted would-be conquerers by rerouting all of the area's roads to Malmedy and by installing retractable housing. There would be a close call in 1672, when Malmedy sent troops to Munchkin to find out what the heck was going on, but they were routed into a dead-end street and all eventually died of starvation. It was Munchkin's first and only military victory. Sadly, the Duchy would be replaced by a trench in 1918.
By age 4, Irwin was keenly aware of the history of his little country. He decided then and there that he would not follow in his father's footsteps, no matter how honorable they were. (The elder Buzzy "Alfonso" Rommel was a reknowned maker of special footwear which would allow the wearer to make very large ape-like footprints, scaring hell out of passers-by, and was greatly admired in the duchy.) "No", said Irwin, batting off the fleas with a flick of his pudgy hand, "I shall henchforth and with all due haste pursue the momentous talisman of grail and bask in the glory of military bastions so revered in the honest sensibilities of which I remain, your friend and constant companion in the pursuit of things so large as to make all of the rice in faraway lands bend like the very breeze would be in time."
It would not be the last time Irwin would say something really strange.
Gnrl Confusion
28 Aug 05, 13:42
It's OK, he gets like this sometimes. When my Dad used to introduce us he'd say "this is Mike and this is my son David."
What's wrong with that? Mike is my name.
Oh.
What's wrong with that? Mike is my name.
Oh.
Yea...at least he remembered your name. Some people still address me as sh*thead, from my dad's introductions.
Krink
That brought a good laugh and Thanks! :laugh:
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