Gitmo 55: Vacation

“I don’t know that I’m ready for this, boss,” Monty hemmed.

“You been here half the time I have, and way more than me when we got our first citizens. And you’ve got a contingent of Army shitkickers at your beck and call. You’ll be fine.”

“But they don’t fear me the way you do. They laugh behind my back.”

“And to your front. Try scowling more. Failing that, just hold your radio up and mumble about needing reinforcements any time you feel scared. That usually buys you more space than even you could ever need.”

“Was that a fat joke? I’m having serious anxiety issues, and you’re making fat jokes.”

“I’ll never understand how a fella with such big bones can have such thin skin.”

“I am big boned, at least, that’s what your mom tells me.”

“There’s the Monty I’ve come to know and work with.”

“Ain’t that phrase ‘know and love’?”

“I respect you enough not to lie to you. But you’ll be fine. Everybody has their work assignments and their routines. Place practically runs itself. Just don’t go running down the street in only your tighty whities yell-singing ‘school’s out for ever.’”

“Floyd’s classic.”

“But it did kind of undermine your authority, was my main reason for bringing it up. And that time I was only going to Fort Gates for a few hours. This time, you’re the only adult, at least officially, here. You can handle it, I’m sure.”