The camera started rolling.
"Buenos dias," said Oso, "I am General Chavo Oso. Whether I'm conquering a small third world country, or battling the fat capitalist American pigs, I work up an appetite. That's why I eat Bueno Boca brand tacos."
Oso took a big bite out of the taco he was holding in his hand.
"Mm, mm, that's a good taco. You see at Bueno Boca, they don't use just any meat for their tacos, they use the best prime cuts of Guatemalan steers, ground into a tender pulp. They use fresh, clean lettuce, and the best cheese available at the time. So, remember, eat Boca Bueno brand tacos, and be just like General Oso."
Oso took another bite of the taco and then smiled at the camera.
"And we're off the air," said the cameraman.
Oso gagged and coughed. He spit out the bit of taco left in his mouth, then took a swig of water from his canteen.
"What the hell was that thing?" he demanded.
"A taco, general."
"What the hell is a taco?"
"I don't know. Something Americans eat."
"Good," Oso laughed, "If the Americans eat crap like that, they'll all die of dysentery before they get to the battlefield."
“Actually, sir, I have some bad news in that regards.”
Oso followed his lieutenant to his war tent. There, the lieutenant handed Oso a report. It made him happy, but not satisfied. Reports indicated that a major allied bombing mission was to destroy an important industrial city in his territory, Juala. Juala had been badly damaged, and the pivotal railroad junction that ran through it was destroyed, and the bombers had been destroyed and all their crews killed.
"I want those pilots!"
Oso swung his fist down in fury, smashing the map table apart and badly hurting one of his lieutenants. Oso was rather like his namesake, with an ursine face and a long, full beard. He was built like a massive bear, with bristling muscles and a huge stature.
"Scour the countryside! I want all of Mexico searched, centimeter by centimeter!"
Oso grabbed one of his lieutenants by his neck.
"Mobilize our cavalry and our tanks. Divert at least a company and two tanks. I'll lead the search myself, on horseback. Ready my beast!"
Oso flung his lieutenant away. His men scrambled off to do his bidding. They had been incompetent to let those two pilots escape, but it was not a bad loss, all in all. He was a commander of The Coalition now, not just the incompetent Mexican army.
Oso laughed out loud, a loud, screeching, lupine laugh. Those pilots wouldn't elude The Coalition for long. The Coalition's reach exceeded all else.
“You two with me," he said, pointing to two of his soldiers, "The rest of you spread out. Find them. Bring them back here alive or dead. Come back. We’re having chicken for dinner,” he thought momentarily, “Maybe wine. Go!”
"Manuscripts don't burn"
- Mikhail Bulgakov
Hi, I'm horror and science fiction author Steve Kozeniewski (pronounced: "causin' ooze key.") Welcome to my blog! You can also find me on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, and Amazon. You can e-mail me here, join my mailing list here, or request an e-autograph here. Free on this site you can listen to me recite one of my own short works, "The Thing Under the Bed."
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