Tag Archives: flash fiction

“Pago Pago Pulls the Suffering Bastard From the Sea”

18 Jul

Pago Pago scanned the horizon. Gifts had been coming all morning from the mysterious gods at the far end of the world. What would they bring him next?

Then he saw bobbing in the water what appeared to be a man…or maybe it was some form of seal he never witnessed before. No, he thought. No seal is that fundamentally lazy. Indeed, it seemed that the gods had brought him a new gift this time, a human gift.

After all when you live on the lost island unknown to the rest of mankind, it is Big Oompah to have a visitor. It is occasion for a feast. For the making of new talisman. It is big occasion. Pago Pago will be big hero. Maybe he get a new nickname. “Pago Pago” means “Talk Talk”. Apparently, he was talkier when he was a child.

Pago Pago was a bit puzzled when this man looked a bit fearful and confuse, indeed he held one of those strange fire sticks in his hand, pointed directly at him.

Pago Pago put his hands in the air, to say,“Pago Pago no hurt you.” The Man, he stood there for just a moment, trying to figure out what to do. Pago Pago see that he confuse, like ridiculous shark unable to decide which fish to catch when whole school swim away from him.

Pago Pago had seen fire stick before. Visitor from long ago had brought one. It look different, but enough the same to know what it was. Pago Pago was big scared, but at the same time he want to laugh, for this man was wearing a most ridiculous loincloth especially in contrast with finely tailored coat.

He is seen coats like this before because such thing had washed up other times when gods delivered wondrous things. Sometimes he bring coats like this with skeletons in them.

The man with man suns on loin cloth, looked around and evidently decided Pago Pago was no threat to him, and put his fire stick away then he spoke in some foul language that Pago Pago did not understand.

Pago Pago no like the sound of words. Must be bad demon talk.

Pago Pago not know what to do. Maybe man who emerges from the sea wearing only ridiculous loin cloth must be very hungry.

Pago Pago May the universal sign for “are you hungry?” – sloppy eating, slurp in sign. And the mysterious man seem to understand it.

Pago Pago gestured silent sign for “follow me,” and the mysterious man followed him into the jungle.

They headed into the jungle, Pago Pago heard the loud roar of the gigantic metal bird whose wings no move fly above.

The stranger, who he know as Burning Loin Cloth looked up in fear and dove under the bushes of the jungle. He afraid of noisy metal bird. Must be from primative tribe. Pago Pago have no fear of bird which fly by with no purpose.

All Pago Pago do is laugh as the men pulled himself out of the jungle of the thick vegetation and raised the firestick again.

Pago Pago did ‘food’ sign again. Man lower gun. Stand very straight and walk in way that make Pago Pago think he must have problem with making poo-poo.

He wave man forward and follow. Pago Pago big excited. There would be three days of feast. First, they would catch man and take firestick from him. Then, tie him up and dance around him. Finally, they would place him in pot.  Screaming voice would chase off demons.

All would eat meat of man, except for head. Chief Lapu Lapu would get small head for trophy, but maybe Pago Pago get skull and some finger bones to hang from his neck.

Created by Flint Dille

“Tiki Wiki Fiki”

7 Jul

Some men are lucky, even in their bad luck. Though he was known as the Suffering Bastard, Reich captain Johann Lederhosen knew he was lucky. All of the men he had dined with last night on the sub were dead and he was alive. Tied to a piece of Flotsam, he drifted ever so slowly towards a small island somewhere in the South Pacific.

Their sub had surfaced at dawn to communicate with the Reich—unsuccessfully, I might add– when an American P-40 began strafing them. The Suffering Bastard walked calmly along the deck searching through his monocle as the machine gun fire tore through the sub. He could see the plane was American but a clear view of the pilot still eluded him; until the third pass. That’s when he saw HIM.  “Damn it!,” he muttered.  “What the hell is he doing here? I should have killed him in Singapore.”

Captain Jack Harris, USAF: his nemesis. They had met one nasty day in North Africa; while stationed there as an Afrika Corps commander, the Suffering Bastard was trying to relieve the boredom of the day and began shelling a nearby oasis. He was sick of trying to talk and haggle with the Arabs, it was better to speak the universal language of bombs, so he chucked a few in.

What he didn’t know was that an American reconnaissance unit was also in theater.  Before he realized it, they were firing back. How was he going to explain this to his Chain of Command? He couldn’t. It would be a career ending injury for the Suffering Bastard. So, his plan was simple. He would have to kill everyone, including his own men. He couldn’t trust any of them not to report his snafu to Rommel for their own personal gain.

First things first, he shot his #2 officer in the head. Next, he ordered a full assault of the Arab oasis and the American unit within. While his men were attacking, he had one of his Lieutenants, who spoke flawless American English, radio the American Air Base to tell them of the German attack.

The Americans dispatched their planes, a.k.a, the Mouse Patrol into the town as planned and wiped out his troops.

He then shot the Lieutenant point-blank in the face and fired upon the American planes using their 88mm Flak gun. Having destroyed all of them—or so he thought—The Suffering B fled the camp on a motorcycle and sidecar to report his heroic tale of survival to Rommel himself.

The problem was he had left one man alive. It was an American pilot who’d witnessed his treacherous behavior from inside his own plane.  He’d flown several flyovers trying to kill the Suffering Bastard, but the Bastard’s lucky Skull’s Head had saved him. Or at least that’s what he believed, because it had been given to him by the Fuhrer himself, by accident, while he was impersonating another officer who was too drunk to make it to the ceremony.

Captain Jack, great pilot though he was, couldn’t hit the careening motorcycle, across twenty miles of desert, but both men had gotten a good look at each other.  Captain Jack through his plane binoculars and the Suffering Bastard through his monocle…  Both men swore to themselves that one day they would kill the other.

Three long years and thousands of miles later, the two carried on their vendetta.

After the debacle in North Africa, The Suffering Bastard had followed Rommel back to Europe where he got wind of the plot against Hitler. He parlayed the information through his Chain of Command, earning him a promotion to a top secret project in the South Pacific. It seems that the Germans had found a huge source of gold off South America and the High Command suspecting that the war was going to end very soon, planned to buy themselves cushy lives after the war in various greedy dictatorships around the world.

It seems too, that the Americans in the form of their damned OSS, which Captain Jack had volunteered for, had followed him all the way to South America and then followed the gold all the way to an obscure Sub Base located somewhere off South America. Then, Captain Jack ordered a strike on the base.

The Suffering B commandeered a submarine loaded with Gold and another ominous cargo in the form of an ancient artifact and had left the Island, narrowly escaping both the allied bombs and the gunfire of his own forces.

At the end of the day, he surfaced the sub to look back at the island.  He could see the smoke in the distance. The American Bombers had pounded the hell out of it. He opened the last of his Reichandle Cigarette Packs and enjoyed the nicotine thinking that once and for all, he had escaped Captain Jack.

Until he saw the lone parachute descend from the sky to the island.  Somehow, he knew it was Jack.  Somehow he knew Jack would find a German prisoner, interrogate him, and learn that The Suffering Bastard had escaped the attack.

Damn the American.

He ordered the Sub to dive with the idea that he would escape to some deserted island, move the gold onto a freighter and with the help of a hand picked crew, find his way into a safe port. There, he would unload the gold and set up shop for a happy and healthy retirement.

But now that hope was gone. Just as he had expected, Jack tracked him and bombed the sub. Lederhosen had narrowly escaped with his life by jumping off the observation deck.

Created by Flint Dille

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