The Foreign Service Journal, July-August 2006

J U LY- A U G U S T 2 0 0 6 / F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L 39 halo of malarial mosquitoes buzzing around his head, Ambassador T. Farlack Vodel was lifting his racket to serve when the twin-engined aircraft roared low over the tennis court, causing the monkeys in the trees to start screeching. The ambassador stared at the empty sky where the plane had been, and adjusted his thick glasses. “Queer, a flight on Saturday morn- ing.” Distrustful of excess verbiage, the ambassador did not use verbs. Miles Farley, the deputy chief of mission, stared at the sky from the other side of the court. “Yeah, the next flight is on Tuesday — the one that brings the International Herald Tribune and Martha Stewart Living.” “Ah, yes,” the ambassador nodded. “Inspiration for those scented sorghum wreaths in our secure area.” Information Officer Wally Spinks came sprinting from the embassy across the rutted street. “The plane! They called— it’s a congressman! And a jackalope!” The ambassador adjusted his thick glasses. “Mythical creatures, Walter — at least according to conventional wis- dom ...” “Well, some of those guys do seem larger than life.” Miles had served at posts all over the world, and wielded a gener- ous supply of tales from each. “I remember at my last post, we had a visit from a congressman who had to have a trapeze installed in his hotel suite and an officer designated as his badminton partner on call the entire visit. Had to have a whole-wheat bagel with goat cheese and an emu oil massage every morning, without exception. Milking the goat wasn’t a big deal, but finding an emu and then squeezing the oil out of it ...” “No, Miles, the jackalope.” “Of course that particular myth was inspired by sightings of rabbits with the papillomavirus — causes antler-like tumors to grow in various places on the rabbit’s head and body. Thought I had it once myself back in Moldova. Visited an unlicensed rabbit farm, and then found this strange horn growing in my ...” “They’re landing right now — hurry!” Wally shouted. Miles and the ambassador ran over and jumped into the ambassador’s car. Followed by Wally in the embassy Landcruiser, they bounced off down the potholed road to the airport. N obody was sure when the last official U.S. visitor had come to Datipuru. There were stories that the desk officer had visited several years ago and left on the next flight out after a tainted Fanta quaffed in the airport terminal had resulted in all her hair falling out later that evening. And Datipuru would have remained unvisited if Mandi FS F I CT I ON D AY OF THE J ACKALOPE A DELICATE DIPLOMATIC FAUX PAS IS NARROWLY AVOIDED WITH THE DELIVERY OF A HEFTY JACKALOPE . A B Y B RIAN A GGELER Editor’s Note: “Day of the Jackalope” by Brian Aggeler is the winner of this year’s Foreign Service Fiction contest. “Ram Balram’s Final Exam” by Rakesh Surampudi, which follows, took second place. The runners-up will appear in future issues of the Journal when space permits.