“That’s better,” the sergeant nods, apparently satisfied with the youngster’s effort. “Flie, Hyram!”
“Here, Sergeant!”
“Flie, Shubert!”
“Here, Sergeant!”
The sergeant looks up from his roster with a scowl.
“Bee? Flie? What is this, a freaking Bug Convention?”
“We’re brothers, Sarge.” one of the two Flies supplies unnecessarily, as the physical similarities between the two broad-shouldered individuals would be obvious even if their names didn’t link them.
“That’s right,” the other put in. “You can call me Hy for short, and Shubert there would rather be called Shu, ’cause otherwise …”
“DID I ASK?”
“No, sir.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“… AND DONT CALL ME SIR!!! I ain’t no freakin’ officer! It didn’t take a grant from the crown to make me a gentleman … I was born one!! DO VOU UNDERSTAND ME???”
“YES, SERGEANT!!”
“Drop down and give me twenty pushups just so you won’t forget!”
“Umm … is that ten from each of us, Sarge, or …”
“TWENTY EACH!” Smiley roared. “… AND ANOTHER FIVE EACH FOR CALLIN’ ME ‘SARGE’! MY NAME IS SERGEANT SMILEY OR SERGEANT, NOT SARGE OR SIR! YOU GOT THAT, TROOPER??”
“YES, SERGEANT!!”
“THEN HIT IT!!”
The two brothers drop down and start pumpin’ out pushups as the sergeant turns his attention back to his list.
“Shu Flie and Hy Flie! My aching back! My God! here’s another one! Spyder!”
“Here … Sarge.”
Smiley’s head comes up with a snap like he has been poked in the ribs … which, of course he has. The use of the improper address so soon after it was forbidden might have either been by mistake or from stupidity were it not for the deliberateness with which it was uttered. As it was, however, there was no mistaking it for what it was: A challenge to the sergeant’s authority … which is to say, stupidity.