The nice man thought long and hard about his bucket
list. So many things to do before he
leaves. One thing he wants to do badly
is fly a kite in Kabul. A local paper
one, colorful with a cutting string for aerial battle. His local aid gets him three, I guess he
figures the man will crash the first two.
Clouds were forming in the late day as a storm was brewing, so now was
the time to fly. He climbed the balcony
and got to the top platform, gauging the wind and waiting for the right
moment. Tried as he might, the kite
wouldn’t take off. The local Afghan in
the shop below sensing his struggles got his kite out as well and got it
aloft. Undeterred the nice man got is
up, maybe 30 feet before it came down.
Before long a camp police patrol came stomping by. She stopped, looked up at the man, put her
hands on her hip, "Hey, are you flying a kite?" she asked. Since the kite was in his hand, he
technically correctly answered "well not really". To wit she proceed to say that he was
violating a Camp Order. Hmmmm, he says
loudly, "Is that the Order next to the one that tells one how to wipe
their ass? Angry police lady was not
amused and quickly stomped off to no doubt write her report about the
incorrigible, but handsome, man.
I guess the nice man will go next door to the Embassy to
try his luck.
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