Wanda, Colonel North says, is gonna have a temporary home at the “National Zoo.”
“She will be ‘exhibit B,’ ” he says, “in case we get arrested.”
“Arrested for what?” I ast.
“Well, Gump, you never know,” the colonel says.
Meantime, I tole the colonel I gotta go see little Forrest afore we go flyin off all over the world, an he says I can use “Air Force One” to do it, account of the President, he says, “that sombitch ain’t goin nowhere today anyhow.”
Comin into Mobile on Air Force One is not like arrivin on a regular plane. They have got a brass band to welcome me an a limousine to drive me around, an when I get to Mrs. Curran’s house, they is a lot of people hangin around in the yard. Mrs. Curran come out to greet me, but I can see little Forrest standin behind the screen door, kinda like he don’t want to see me. When I gone inside, I found out this was true.
“I told you, you had to check the pressure valve at least twice a day, din’t I?” was the first thing he said.
“Yup,” I says. “An you shore was right.”
“Yeah, I know, cause you ruined everything. We could of been millionaires. And now we’re broke, I suppose.”
“That’s about the size of it, son.”
“Don’t call me son. Never. I ain’t your son.”
“I just meant it like...”
“I don’t care what you meant. It was the easiest thing in the world to just check that valve. And now look what’s happened.”
“Little Forrest, I am sorry about it, but I can’t do nothin to fix it now. What’s over is over, an I gotta get on with other stuff.”
“Like what—goin into the army or something? How come you wearing that uniform?”
“Well, I reckon I sort of am. I mean, I was in the army once afore, you know.”
“So you told me.”
“An I gotta do one more thing for Colonel North. Cause he ast me to, an, well, I just gotta do it.”
“Yeah, I spose you do—cause you screwed up everything else.”
He turned around an I seen him ball up his fist an put it up like he was wipin his eye. It was a very painful thing to see, feelin to mysef like he was ashamed of me. I reckon he had a right to be, though, on account of I have messed up good this time.
“What about Wanda?” he ast. “I spose you have sold her to the butchers.”
“That ain’t so. She is at the National Zoo in Washington, D.C.”
“So she’s just gonna be there for everybody to make fun of, huh?”
“Nah, it ain’t like that. The colonel is gonna get her special treatment.”
“Huh,” he says. “I bet.”
Anyhow, that was the way it went. To say the least, little Forrest was not pleased to see me, an I was feelin pretty low when I left. The one thing that give me a little encouragement was just before I walked out the door.
“By the way, what was it like when the shit pit blew out?” he ast.
“Well,” I says, “it was a sight.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I bet.” An I thought I might have seen a little smile on his face just then, but I ain’t sure.
An so we gone on over to Iran.
It was a big city with a lot of bulblike things on top of the buildins, look like upside-down turnips, an them fellers was all dressed in black robes an wearin hats look like a overturn basket on they heads an tryin to look fierce an everthin.
Fiercest lookin of them all was the Ayatolja.
He be glarin an scowlin, an is not exactly the most pleasant-lookin feller I would want to meet.
Colonel North whispers to me, “Just remember, Gump, ‘tact and diplomacy.’ It’s all that matters!” Then he done stick out his hand an try to shake it with the Ayatolja, but the Ayatolja, he just set with his arms crossed an scowl at the colonel an don’t say nothin.
Colonel North look at me an say, “This sombitch is weird, man. I mean, everbody I ever met was willin to shake hands—you know what I’m sayin?”
Standin behin the Ayatolja was two guys in baggy-lookin diapers, have big swords in they belts, an one of em say, “Don’t you never call the Ayatolja a ‘sombitch.’ He might figger out what it means an then we gotta chop off your heads.”
In this, I figger he is correct.
Anyhow, I am tryin to break the ice, so to speak, so I ast the Ayatolja how come he is always so fierce an mad-lookin an scowlin all the time?
“It is because,” he say, “that for thirty years I have been tryin to become president of the World Council of Churches, an them heathen assholes won’t even let me in! Who is more religious than the Ayatolja, anyhow?”
“Why you let that worry you?” I ast, an he says back, “On account of I am a dignified feller, an don’t take no shit off nobody, an who is these turds that will not let me in the World Council of Churches? I am the Ayatolja of Iran, after all. I am a big cheese, you dummy.”
“Now, wait a minute,” say Colonel North. “My man Forrest, here, might not be the brightest feller around, but you oughtn’t be callin him names.”
“The Ayatolja does whatever he wants—You don’t like it, kiss my ass.”
“Yeah, well, I am a marine colonel and I don’t kiss asses.”
At this, the Ayatolja commenced slappin his thighs an bust out laughin.
“Very good, Colonel, very good. I think we can do some bidness here.”
Anyhow, Colonel North done start explainin his deal to the Ayatolja.
“Look here,” he says, “some of your fellers over in Lebanon done took a bunch of our people for hostages, and it is causin considerable embarrassment to the President of our United States.”
“Oh, yeah,” the Ayatolja says. “So why don’t you just go over there and get em out?”
“It ain’t that easy,” the colonel says.
The Ayatolja begun to chuckle. “Really. Tell me about it. I know somethin about hostage takin mysef, you know. Look what happened when that other numbnuts president of yours came over here an tried to screw with our hostage-takin enterprise. What was his name...?”
“It don’t matter, he ain’t there anymore,” say the colonel.
“Yeah, I know all about that, too!” The Ayatolja begun to laugh again, an slap his thighs.
“Well, that may be true,” the colonel says, “but look here, we gotta get down to bidness. Time is money, you know?”
“What is time to the Ayatolja?” he say, holdin his palms up in the air, an just about then, one of them fellers with the baggy underpants an the swords beat twice on a huge gong, sort of like the one Mrs. Hopewell, from the CokeCola scheme, had in her rubdown room.
“Ah, speakin of time,” announces the Ayatolja, “we are about ready for lunch. You boys had anythin to eat yet?”
“No, sir,” I piped up, an Colonel North, he gave me a dirty look.
“Well, then,” the Ayatolja shouts, “let the feast begin!”
At this, about a hundrit A-rabs come runnin into the room carryin trays an platters of all kinds of shit, an it is the most mysterious-lookin food I have ever seen. They is big heaps of what appear to be salami wrapped in cabbage an hams an olives an fruits an maybe cottage cheese or somethin—an I don’t know what-all else. They laid it all down in front of us on a big Persian rug an stood back with they arms folded across they chests.
“Well, Mr. Gump, and what would you like to eat?” says the Ayatolja.
“Maybe a ham sambwich,” I answered.
“Father of God!” screams the Ayatolja. “Don’t say them kinds of things in here! We people ain’t ate no nasty ham in three thousand years!” He begun wavin his hands an scowlin again.