"We have to find the impostor as soon as possible, of course" said the Agency station chief, "but with the utmost discretion"
It was an unusual conversation for me. I am a specialist in the larger fauna of the Alaskan wild and in the course of my research, have spent many years living with the Unangan, as the Aleutian islanders call themselves. I speak their language and know their customs probably better than any non-Unangan would, but I had never had a stranger assignment than this one. I have studied bears and birds but now I found myself in a small research station interviewing locals.
"Would you be able to tell from just a conversation who the impostor is?" the chief asked
"I probably would. There are unique intonations of some words. But I'd like to use a small feather, if that is permitted. Just to confirm it"
"Feather?" asked the chief, a little incredulously. He seemed to suspect I'd been having a couple.
"Feather"
"Hmm. Ok, I guess"
Later in the evening, the chief and I sat in his office. He had opened a Jim Beam in celebration and was effusive in his gratitude.
"Thanks a million, Doc!" he said. "He cracked under the lights. He was a Russian plant, planning to open supply lines for them. But how did you know?"
"Oh there are some words which are unique to the Aleut language which require an intonation of the vowel sounds that comes naturally to them but are quite impossible for the rest of us. The confirmation with the feather was the clincher"
"You said something about the feather earlier. How does that work?"
"Oh, the Aleuts have a peculiarity of the facial nerve which results in their being tickled when a feather is brushed DOWN on their cheek, but not in the opposite direction. Quite unique, I assure you"
"And this one failed the test?"
"Yes! I knew right away he wasn't a real native. He was an up-tickle Aleutian"
It was an unusual conversation for me. I am a specialist in the larger fauna of the Alaskan wild and in the course of my research, have spent many years living with the Unangan, as the Aleutian islanders call themselves. I speak their language and know their customs probably better than any non-Unangan would, but I had never had a stranger assignment than this one. I have studied bears and birds but now I found myself in a small research station interviewing locals.
"Would you be able to tell from just a conversation who the impostor is?" the chief asked
"I probably would. There are unique intonations of some words. But I'd like to use a small feather, if that is permitted. Just to confirm it"
"Feather?" asked the chief, a little incredulously. He seemed to suspect I'd been having a couple.
"Feather"
"Hmm. Ok, I guess"
Later in the evening, the chief and I sat in his office. He had opened a Jim Beam in celebration and was effusive in his gratitude.
"Thanks a million, Doc!" he said. "He cracked under the lights. He was a Russian plant, planning to open supply lines for them. But how did you know?"
"Oh there are some words which are unique to the Aleut language which require an intonation of the vowel sounds that comes naturally to them but are quite impossible for the rest of us. The confirmation with the feather was the clincher"
"You said something about the feather earlier. How does that work?"
"Oh, the Aleuts have a peculiarity of the facial nerve which results in their being tickled when a feather is brushed DOWN on their cheek, but not in the opposite direction. Quite unique, I assure you"
"And this one failed the test?"
"Yes! I knew right away he wasn't a real native. He was an up-tickle Aleutian"
6 comments:
It took me a moment, but then I saw it... (Despite a daily dose of Pastis, I had to go back and re-read it!)
Somewhere in Russia, a CIA spy is claiming, he wasn#t airdropping arms for the Ukraine rebels-it was just an optical Ilyushin.
Deadly!! More blog posts please..
Deadly (as usual)
Well, a Girl Potato and Boy Potato had eyes for each other, and finally they got married, and had a little sweet potato, which they called 'Yam.'
Of course, they wanted the best for Yam.
When it was time, they told her about the facts of life.
They warned her about going out and getting half-baked, so she wouldn't get accidentally mashed, and get a bad name for herself like 'Hot Potato,' and
end up with a bunch of tater tots
Yam said not to worry, no Spud would get her into the sack and make a rotten potato out of her! But on the other hand she wouldn't stay home and become a Couch Potato either! She would get plenty of exercise so as not to be skinny like her shoestring cousins!!
When she went off to Europe, Mr. And Mrs. Potato told Yam to watch out for the hard-boiled guys from Ireland and the greasy guys from France called the French fries. And when she went out West, to watch out for the Indians so she wouldn't get scalloped.
Yam said she would stay on the straight and narrow and wouldn't associate with those high class Yukon Golds, or the ones from the other side of the tracks who advertise their trade on all the trucks that say, 'Frito Lay.'
Mr. And Mrs. Potato sent Yam to Idaho P.U. (that's Potato University ) so that when she graduated she'd really be in the Chips. But in spite of all they did for her, one-day Yam came home and announced she was going to marry Alan Wilkins.
Alan Wilkins!
Mr. And Mrs. Potato were very upset.
They told Yam she couldn't
possibly marry Alan Wilkins because he's just.......
A COMMONTATER
Hahaha!
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