The Monster MASH: A dead funny romantic comedy (The Monster MASH Trilogy Book 1) by Angie Fox

Author:Angie Fox [Fox, Angie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781939661746
Publisher: Moose Island Books
Published: 2020-12-28T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

I changed out of my scrubs and into a pair of rust-colored new army uniform pants. Might as well try to look official. Events were in motion. I couldn’t deny it.

Naturally, I had no idea where I’d left the belt portion of the pants, so I smoothed my white tank top over the copper button.

The matching field jacket hung in the back of my locker. It was stiff from lack of use, practically new. I shrugged that on as well.

The first prophecy has come true. The armies are on the move and unbalanced.

It still felt like a dream. I wished it were. I could use a few z’s. We’d been in surgery all night and into today. My eyes felt like somebody had rubbed them with sandpaper.

The heat of the day had already gone from stifling to unbearable. I squinted against the suns and kept my heavy head up as I hiked next door to Kosta’s office.

Shirley was on the phone when I walked in. She sat at her desk, banging a pencil about 180 miles an hour. Her fiery hair curled out of its loose twist. A fan blew the hot air around, solving absolutely nothing. “Try looking under Fiction-Human-Irrelevant.”

“Is Kosta in there?” I asked, aiming for his office.

“No.” She swung her chair toward me and lowered the phone. “He had to deal with an issue in post-op.” She tucked the pencil behind her ear and held a finger up. “But don’t leave.”

Phone propped between her chin and her shoulder, she turned back to her desk and began shuffling through the closest of about six different stacks of files. The top papers fluttered in the artificial breeze. “I have something on Galen you’re going to want to see.”

“Something good?” I asked. See? I could be hopeful.

Shirley’s forehead wrinkled. “Depends on your point of view.” The phone squawked, and Shirley yanked it up to her ear. “Yes. I’m still waiting.” She frowned as she listened. “You didn’t find it?” She rolled her eyes. “Try Fiction-Human-Anthropological.”

She sighed, her eyes flicking to me. “I’m trying to get a few things for the new TV,” she explained. “Tell me. How do you think the army film depot would file season one of Dynasty?”

Geez. I didn’t know. “Couldn’t you get What We Do in the Shadows instead?”

Shirley pointed a warning finger at me. “That is why I’m not telling anybody about this.”

“Okay. Fine.” I rubbed my eyes. No need to get testy.

“Just keep looking. I’ll call you back,” she said, hanging up and resting her head on her desk. “This deal’s costing me an entire case of Thin Mint Girl Scout cookies. With my luck, we’re probably going to end up getting season three of Green Acres.”

“Ooh.” I liked Green Acres. “Remember when Oliver rented a rooster?”

“You’re not helping, Doc.”

“I’m just glad to hear Galen has Girl Scout cookies.”

“He doesn’t,” she said, shoving through the paperwork littering her desk. “Besides, I can’t trade anything from the visiting officers’ tent. I get one case of cookies a year from my great-great-great-niece.

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