Somewhere in the $289 billion American defense budget recently passed by the House of Representatives was a $250 million item to deploy MX missiles on railroad cars. Key thinkers in the Reagan Admin felt that missiles that were constantly moving around the country would be less vulnerable to a Russian first strike.
This logic is not without its drawbacks, however…
“Brrrchk…Chickadee 21, this is Mother Hen. Chickadee 21, this is Mother Hen. We have a Code Red in the Coop. Repeat: we have a Code Red in the Coop. Do you copy?”
“Vvrrrooteet…Mother Hen, this is Chickadee 21. Mother Hen, this is Chickadee 21. So, it’s war, then?”
“That’s right, Chickadee 21. The Big Bad Wolf has raided the Coop. We’ve got to hit back with everything we’ve got or Farmer Brown won’t be going to market this year…or, ever again.”
“I understand, Mother Hen. Give me my present coordinates, and Chickadee 21 will do his duty and fly the coop.”
“You should have your target coordinates. Over.”
“No problem, Mother Hen. We keep our target instruction package in the freezer next to the canned avocados. I meant, I need our coordinates.”
“Your coordinates? Don’t you know where you are?”
“No, Mother Hen. No idea.”
“All the other Chickadees knew where they were.”
“There’s no point whining at me, Mother Hen. I hate it when you whine at me. You know I can’t compute a trajectory for my target if I don’t know where I am. I might hit…Australia, or something…”
“Chickadee 21, I don’t know where you are. You’re supposed to be a self-contained unit – if we were able to track you from the Coop, the Big Bad Wolf might be able to track you from the Wolf’s Den, too. It would defeat the whole purpose of putting the Chickadess on Rolling Minicoops in the first place!”
“I’m sorry, Mother Hen…”
“What happened to your navigational computers?”
“Umm…the navigational system was accidentally burned out at last week’s Congressional Oversight Dinner Dance…”
“You held a dinner dance on a railway car?”
“Yeah. I think one of the Senators spilled his martini onto the consol. Things were kind of cramped, what with the 300 guests and the 12 piece mariachi band and all. Anyway, I meant to get to a Radio Shack to get the 12 cent circuit to replace the on that burned out, but we haven’t passed one…”
“Why didn’t you requisition the part from the Army?”
“Negative that, Mother Hen. With all due respect, we were told it would cost $738 and take six months to arrive – we decided it would be easier to just pick one up ourselves.”
“Your initiative will be duly noted, Chickadee 21.”
“Thank you, si -“
“It won’t work in your favour. Perhaps if you describe your immediate surroundings to me, I can get a fix on your position…”
“Okay. We’re rolling through a big forest at the moment. There’s a little open pit mining to my right…five miles back, we went over a small bridge…oh, and we’re coming up fast on a…bjjjjjj…fstssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss…”
“Chickadee 21, your signal is breaking up. Do you read me?”
“Sssssss…”
“Chickadee 21! Chickadee 21! I think we just lost -“
“Sss…brrrrchk…tunnel. We’ve just gone through a tunnel, Mother Hen. So, do you think you can pinpoint our location?”
“Not yet, Chickadee 21. We need you to narrow it down a little.”
“In what way?”
“Well, are you in Alaska?”
“I don’t think so, Mother Hen. The weather here is moderate, with a slight breeze blowing in from the North. Our high today will be a cool 65, with a low of 50. Showers are expected…”
“Where did you – what were you before you joined the Army, soldier?”
“A shoe salesman. Why do you ask, Mother Hen?”
“Just curious, Chickadee 21. Where did you get the weather report?”
“From the local radio, Mother Hen.”
“Of course. Look, Chickadee 21, we’ve only got seven minutes before the Big Bad Wolf’s Cubs arrive in the Coop. If you receive local radio, why don’t you just -“
“Hello, Mother Hen? Mother Hen? Hunh. I wonder what he was going to say…”