pearls after she spent her entire teenage years wearing braces?
“Hey! I heard that,” Lieutenant Maureen Early said as she patted her own tummy. “Just because some can eat continuously and still lose weight doesn’t necessarily mean you’re normal.”
“Well, the way you eat, Lieutenant Kelly, you’ll soon have that waistline out where you can watch it better,” Senior Chief Leary added.
“Funny, Senior Chief,” Kelly drawled, as he dug into the brown paper bag lying on its side on the floor of the flight deck. He pulled out another sandwich. “Here, Maureen, have this one. It’s anchovy with peanut butter,” he lied, pushing his second tuna sandwich toward her.
She waved him away. “Gee, thanks. You want to see me throw up or something?”
“The something would be preferable, ma’am,” the Senior Chief interjected. “We do have that new ensign back there,” he continued, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Probably, if you offer it to her, she’d heave.”
The voice of the Navigator over the intercom interrupted their banter. “All hands, set condition five. I say again, set condition five.”
“Can we change the subject? The fine art of causing others to vomit isn’t something that appeals to my well-tuned sense of decorum.”
“Then you would surely hate playing jacks,” the Senior Chief said.
“Jacks?”
“Or, worse, three jacks.”
Kelly shook his head. “You don’t want to know. Trust me. It isn’t something sociably acceptable at most tea parties.”
“I don’t understand.”
The Senior Chief laughed. “It’s a Chief Petty Officer thing, ma’am.” Jacks was an air-reconnaissance term for announcing when someone had passed or was passing gas. A rating of “three jacks” was an especially bad one, or a “good one,” depending on your field of reference.
“Okay, if you two aren’t going to tell me, then you both may go to that eternal place of damnation. Besides, whatever this three-jacks game is, if a man can do it, a woman can do it better.”
“Ma’am, I have no doubt that women are probably better at three jacks than men,” Senior Chief Leary replied, his face contorting as he fought back the laughter. “Many times I can recall losing to a female aircrewman in the middle of a flight.”
Maureen nodded sharply. “I know I can beat you both. I played jacks when I was growing up—”
“Bet you were popular,” Lieutenant Kelly said.
“—and if Chief Petty Officers can sit around playing three jacks, then I could probably play with the entire set of ten and beat your butt with one hand tied behind me.”
Senior Chief Leary roared. “I can’t help it! I can’t helpit!” Tears rolled down his eyes. He pulled a handkerchief out of a knee pocket on his flight suit and began wiping his eyes. “Ma’am, I feel with the proper training, you could be a number-one jacks player. Here, Lieutenant Kelly, let her have your tuna sandwich.”
Kelly spit part of his sandwich out, coughing to clear a half-swallowed mouthful. “I can’t believe it,” he stuttered, laughing through his choking.
Senior Chief Leary reached over and slapped the copilot’s back. “Watch it there, Lieutenant. Choking has been known to cause an inadvertent three-jacks event.”
“Okay, there’s something here I don’t understand, and chances are, when I do, I will be forced to wreak feminine vengeance upon you both.”
Maureen tugged the green sleeves of her flight suit and glanced at her watch. “We’ll give them a couple of minutes and then start our descent. Senior Chief, you and the eating machine keep a lookout for that contact. We’ll loop down, fly around her a couple of times, and then return to altitude to continue our mission.”
“Yes, ma’am, will do,” Senior Chief Leary replied. He reached up, slipped a notch on the seat belt to give him more freedom to move; then he leaned forward, sliding the brown paper bag back out of reach of their
“Hey! I heard that,” Lieutenant Maureen Early said as she patted her own tummy. “Just because some can eat continuously and still lose weight doesn’t necessarily mean you’re normal.”
“Well, the way you eat, Lieutenant Kelly, you’ll soon have that waistline out where you can watch it better,” Senior Chief Leary added.
“Funny, Senior Chief,” Kelly drawled, as he dug into the brown paper bag lying on its side on the floor of the flight deck. He pulled out another sandwich. “Here, Maureen, have this one. It’s anchovy with peanut butter,” he lied, pushing his second tuna sandwich toward her.
She waved him away. “Gee, thanks. You want to see me throw up or something?”
“The something would be preferable, ma’am,” the Senior Chief interjected. “We do have that new ensign back there,” he continued, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Probably, if you offer it to her, she’d heave.”
The voice of the Navigator over the intercom interrupted their banter. “All hands, set condition five. I say again, set condition five.”
“Can we change the subject? The fine art of causing others to vomit isn’t something that appeals to my well-tuned sense of decorum.”
“Then you would surely hate playing jacks,” the Senior Chief said.
“Jacks?”
“Or, worse, three jacks.”
Kelly shook his head. “You don’t want to know. Trust me. It isn’t something sociably acceptable at most tea parties.”
“I don’t understand.”
The Senior Chief laughed. “It’s a Chief Petty Officer thing, ma’am.” Jacks was an air-reconnaissance term for announcing when someone had passed or was passing gas. A rating of “three jacks” was an especially bad one, or a “good one,” depending on your field of reference.
“Okay, if you two aren’t going to tell me, then you both may go to that eternal place of damnation. Besides, whatever this three-jacks game is, if a man can do it, a woman can do it better.”
“Ma’am, I have no doubt that women are probably better at three jacks than men,” Senior Chief Leary replied, his face contorting as he fought back the laughter. “Many times I can recall losing to a female aircrewman in the middle of a flight.”
Maureen nodded sharply. “I know I can beat you both. I played jacks when I was growing up—”
“Bet you were popular,” Lieutenant Kelly said.
“—and if Chief Petty Officers can sit around playing three jacks, then I could probably play with the entire set of ten and beat your butt with one hand tied behind me.”
Senior Chief Leary roared. “I can’t help it! I can’t helpit!” Tears rolled down his eyes. He pulled a handkerchief out of a knee pocket on his flight suit and began wiping his eyes. “Ma’am, I feel with the proper training, you could be a number-one jacks player. Here, Lieutenant Kelly, let her have your tuna sandwich.”
Kelly spit part of his sandwich out, coughing to clear a half-swallowed mouthful. “I can’t believe it,” he stuttered, laughing through his choking.
Senior Chief Leary reached over and slapped the copilot’s back. “Watch it there, Lieutenant. Choking has been known to cause an inadvertent three-jacks event.”
“Okay, there’s something here I don’t understand, and chances are, when I do, I will be forced to wreak feminine vengeance upon you both.”
Maureen tugged the green sleeves of her flight suit and glanced at her watch. “We’ll give them a couple of minutes and then start our descent. Senior Chief, you and the eating machine keep a lookout for that contact. We’ll loop down, fly around her a couple of times, and then return to altitude to continue our mission.”
“Yes, ma’am, will do,” Senior Chief Leary replied. He reached up, slipped a notch on the seat belt to give him more freedom to move; then he leaned forward, sliding the brown paper bag back out of reach of their
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