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| Department for Melancholic Fly Boys |
| THE MELANCHOLIC LIFE OF MAJOR RAOUL MAVIS Pink Khaki visits the popular fly boy at home |
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| The security checks, the taking of our finger prints, screening of our handbags and strip-search of the cartoonist are behind us, and we enter the high-speed elevator which will carry us within seconds to Major Raoul Mavis' modern flat in one of the most exclusive parts of the town. Dozens of video cameras follow each of our steps when we make our way through the futuristic skyscraper, and after passing a security door where our visitor passes are controlled, we finally stand in front of flat # 47. We ring. Soft, shuffling noises are heard from the inside, and then we hear the distinct sound of at least 17 locks which are undone. Finally, the door opens, and we stand in front of the fabled Major Raoul Mavis, sunny boy of the Air Force and most popular with the ladies. But what has happened to him ... is this still the man we met a year ago, literally bursting with energy? Major Mavis wears a hand-knitted jacket and felt slippers. "Please come in - but do take off your shoes." He points at a long line of felt slippers in various sizes which are lined up next to the door (facing North). "You can wear those. It's ... better for the floor, you know. I polished it only this morning." We look at each other, slightly puzzled, but, of course, comply to the wishes of our host. We follow him to the living room. The sharp smell of antiseptic hangs in the air. "Please take a seat," he offers, "but sit in the middle of the couch." After one look at our cartoonist's frown, he adds, almost apologetically: "Because of the symetry, you know." We sit down, careful not to mess up the white bone lace covers on the rests. Our eyes wander to the lockers overhead, labeled alphabetically. Major Mavis explains: "I store my clothes there. Alphabetically." After a moment of hesitance, he adds: "Socks by colour and weekday." Silence. The only sound is our breathing, and the air condition, so we startle when a low splashing can be heard from the gold-fish bowl to our right. Major Mavis sighs. "This is George. Dr. Sulkson and Mr. Quizz have given him to me when I left the SGC." George looks bored. So do we. Finally, we remember the reason for our visit, and ask what Major Mavis is doing these days. His view is focused on some imaginary dust speckle on the table. "Oh. I read a lot. I clean my flat myself. Twice daily. On Monday, I sort my clothes alphabetically. On Wednesday I sort them by colour. I have taken up needlework and tried some meditation techniques." Silence. We look at him. His big green eyes are shining with unshead tears, the bottom lip is quivering. It is only a matter of time till we will witness the breakdown of Major Raoul Mavis, and sure enough, with a keening wail, he drops to his knees and clutches our cartoonist's trousers (Gap). "I can't stand it anymore!" he cries. "I'm one card short of a full deck! I'm not quite the shilling! One wave short of a shipwreck! I'm not my usual top billing! I'm coming down with a fever! I'm really out to sea! This kettle is boiling over! I think I'm a banana tree! I'm knitting with only one needle! I'm driving only three wheels these days! I'm one onion short of a children's meal!"" Shocked by the outburst, we assure him that we get his point. George still looks bored. We give Major Mavis a hanky, and he blows his nose quite noisily. "I am bored out of my skull! I want back on Stargate! I want adventures! Drama! Dangers! Beautiful female guest stars in body-hugging spandex suits! I want to step through the Stargate, hold a gun and look cool! I want to moon at Major Dawn Smarter and let Colonel Mac O'Phile drive me nuts! Please!" We help him up, and Pinkie fishes a small bottle of Tanquerai gin out of her handbag. If ever a man needed a drink, then it is this fly boy here. When he finally calms down, we ask him if there was anything we could do for him. After a moment of thinking, he nodds. "Yes. Yes there is. Tell them that I understand the Air Force has to save money. But this is ridiculous. Either I'm finally allowed to step through the Stargate, or I'll join the marines. It's my last word." George blinks. We leave on tip toes. "So", says the cartoonist when we are back on the street, "and what are we going to do now?" The editor in charge gets that certain look on her face. "Oh, I know what we will do ...! * * * * We herewith announce that we are holding Dr Jeanette Fraiseriere's poodle captive. Either Major Mavis will be allowed to go through the Stargate, or we will dye Frou-Frou pink and khaki. There is still time! Act before we consider giving her a marine hair-cut! |
| Major Mavis' outburst was taken from "I'm going slightly mad" by Queen |