In an area of the city where I am currently residing there is a section known as Old Town. Old Town is home to Four Dwarfs. Each dwarf has a unique personality trait that they are referred to by.
Angry. Angry owns a fruit stand. Angry received the name because he is not very found of Coalition Forces. When one of convoys rolls by he greats it with Arm waves, obscene gestures and shouts in some mythical little person language (Arabic). When US troops recently entered his house during one of there house to house missions he screamed until they left.
Evil. Evil has an uncanny resemblance to the Wicked Witch of the West. She travels around Old Town on a tricycle. Evil has trouble peddling the tricycle so she propels herself around the streets with her feet. The street’s of Old Town are not paved and plagued with potholes, divots and other things, which hinder Evil’s movement. Often the children of Old Town are often seen pulling her around on the tricycle. Evil’s hatred of Coalition Forces is greater than that of Angry’s she has graduated from hand gestures and shouts in her mythical language to throwing rotten fruit and even the occasional rock. While at a recent site visit to the area I was fortunate enough to meet Evil. She actually chucked a rock in my direction and than escaped on her tricycle as tempting as it was I took the moral high ground and let it go; although next time I might just throw Angry at her.
Happy. Happy is a jolly fellow. Not much is known about happy but he likes the Coalition Forces mostly because the Coalition Forces often mistake him for a child and throw candy to him and sometimes even the occasional soccer ball.
Friendly. Friendly is just that. He is a member of the militia, Sons of Iraq, which is currently allied to the US (mostly because we pay them to be). He mans a checkpoint with his AK-47 and looks like a modernly armed extra from “Willow”. I asked him if he needed my help in his quest to save Elora Danan from the clutches of the evil queen Bavmorda but unfortunately he only spoke that strange drarf language and my interpreter who apparently speaks little person just gave me a quizzical look. So alas my friend you will have to continue the expedition on your own.
It goes with out saying miss you all. See you soon .... hopefully.
9 comments:
It's spelled "dwarf," Ben.
Ben.....you never cease to make me laugh....and right now I've got tears running down my cheeks.
Aunt Mari
you do meet many interesting characters in your travels.the benefit of growing up in a bizarre household is that you learn to cope well with strangeness. also your roommates haven't hindered that learning process.however, enough already!! time to leave the sandbox and come home.the military has had you long enough. FREE BEN OR AT LEAST GIVE HIM A RUM RATION. there.we told them. becarefuloutthere. dad
I think it is outrageous that they don't give you a rum ration. What year is this anyway? 1383?
In 1383, they'd give him a rum ration.
As well as all the salted pork money could buy.
mmmmmmmmm......slated pork!
oh man...I am spelling like Ben.
I hope you don't mind if I just follow your 'progress' hoping to see all of you safely home.
In the meanwhile I will use you as a window on that very crucial part of the world, knowing that your truth is better than what I'll get elsewhere.
Take very good care.
Over here via a recommend from Self Sufficient Steward. I've want to follow the life of one of you guys so I'm choosing you.
You certainly give rise to an interesting idea. "Dwarf Special Forces." I dont't know why no one's thought of it before. There's a lot of power in not being taken seriously by the "enemy"
www.marcolmsted.com/trashwhisperer
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