The legionnaires were nearly to the front of the line when Do-Wop said, “Look, there’s Rev. What’s he doing in the park?”
“Goofing off, same as you,” said Sushi, elbowing his partner.
“Chaplains ain’t supposed to goof off, they’re brass,” said Do-Wop. “I gotta give him a hard time.” He grinned and punched Sushi in the arm, then waved to catch the chaplain’s attention. “Yo, Rev,” he called. “Yo, over here! We caught ya!”
Several passersby turned their heads, but when they saw who was waving, they went about their way. The one who looked like Rev passed within a few paces of them and looked directly at Do-Wop. Becoming aware that he was the one being called, he stopped and spread his hands apart. “Sorry, you must be making a mistake. That’s not my name.” If his words hadn’t been enough, the thick Landooran accent made it perfectly clear this wasn’t Rev.
“Whadda ya mean? Cut the jive, Rev,” demanded Do-Wop as the passerby turned to leave, but Sushi put a hand on his shoulder.
“Easy, Do-Wop,” said his partner. “That’s some local guy who looks like Rev, is all.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Do-Wop. “Damn, he’s a dead ringer, though.”
“Hey, it could be worse,” said Sushi.
“How’s that?” asked Do-Wop, frowning.
“The guy could look like you, ” said Sushi, grinning. He ducked as Do-Wop threw a punch in mock indignation. Just then, the line moved up, and the laughing group of legionnaires edged closer to their ride.
Journal #492
My employer had thought he was filling an important void in his people’s spiritual life by requesting that a chaplain be assigned to the company. But the doctrines of Reverend Jordan Ayres had given him second thoughts. Not that the chaplain had in any way attempted to undermine what he was doing, but the influence of his doctrine on the legionnaires did take one confusing direction.