That's MAJOR Ferret Face to You!
Title: That's MAJOR Ferret Face to You!
Fandom: M*A*S*H (TV series)
Characters/Pairing: General series
Theme: rusticate: to go or send to the country @ 10_inspirations
Word Count: 282
Rating: G
Disclaimers: I do not own M*A*S*H or any of its characters, etc.
Warnings: n/a
Notes: I wanted to have the contrast of how others view Frank juxtaposed with how he views himself.
Summary: Once again getting the short stick/trying to prove his worth, Frank gets a menial task, leaving him time for introspection.
To meet Frank you would think he was regular army. He wore his oak leaves with pride and made sure every captain and enlisted man knew his ranking was below Frank’s. The bane of his military existence was that Henry Blake had appointed Hawkeye Pierce ( a mere captain) as chief surgeon. Even when Colonel Potter, a regular army man, came into command, the captain was in charge in the operating room.
Frank wanted to prove his worth to the unit. As far back as he could recall, he had always been the butt of every joke; even to his brother. There were only three people who liked him: his mother, his wife, and Margaret. He wasn’t sure his wife truly liked him, or if she had married him to spite someone (her parents perhaps, or an ex-flame). And he was pretty certain Margaret only liked him because he was a major.
Perhaps all of this was why he had volunteered to search out for the nearest civilization. As he wandered through the empty fields, he began to wonder if this mission would brand him as brave in everyone’s eyes. Maybe it would bring back his Margaret. More than likely, everyone would just make fun of him, like always. He didn’t know why he hadn’t gone by helicopter like Potter had suggested, or why hadn’t allowed Pierce or Hunnicutt to go. He was a doctor; he belonged in an operating room, not scouring a foreign land for non-English speaking heathens.
Smoke in the air alerted him he was close enough. He turned around and began the long trek back to camp, wondering why people would hate him simply because of his pores.
Fandom: M*A*S*H (TV series)
Characters/Pairing: General series
Theme: rusticate: to go or send to the country @ 10_inspirations
Word Count: 282
Rating: G
Disclaimers: I do not own M*A*S*H or any of its characters, etc.
Warnings: n/a
Notes: I wanted to have the contrast of how others view Frank juxtaposed with how he views himself.
Summary: Once again getting the short stick/trying to prove his worth, Frank gets a menial task, leaving him time for introspection.
To meet Frank you would think he was regular army. He wore his oak leaves with pride and made sure every captain and enlisted man knew his ranking was below Frank’s. The bane of his military existence was that Henry Blake had appointed Hawkeye Pierce ( a mere captain) as chief surgeon. Even when Colonel Potter, a regular army man, came into command, the captain was in charge in the operating room.
Frank wanted to prove his worth to the unit. As far back as he could recall, he had always been the butt of every joke; even to his brother. There were only three people who liked him: his mother, his wife, and Margaret. He wasn’t sure his wife truly liked him, or if she had married him to spite someone (her parents perhaps, or an ex-flame). And he was pretty certain Margaret only liked him because he was a major.
Perhaps all of this was why he had volunteered to search out for the nearest civilization. As he wandered through the empty fields, he began to wonder if this mission would brand him as brave in everyone’s eyes. Maybe it would bring back his Margaret. More than likely, everyone would just make fun of him, like always. He didn’t know why he hadn’t gone by helicopter like Potter had suggested, or why hadn’t allowed Pierce or Hunnicutt to go. He was a doctor; he belonged in an operating room, not scouring a foreign land for non-English speaking heathens.
Smoke in the air alerted him he was close enough. He turned around and began the long trek back to camp, wondering why people would hate him simply because of his pores.