BIT: The Metaphorist

SCENE: A Military Encampment -- Dawn
A Soldier Enters the tent, and salutes his superior officer.
MULDOWNY: Captain Riles, Sir.  We have a report from the front.  This comes directly from Sergeant Muskrat.  May I read it?
RILES: Aloud, Lad.  Let's not dilly-dally.
MULDOWNY: Fine.  Yes, he starts out with a formal greeting to you sir, and now then: Like spilled ink through thin paper, nine pages down is indented the recuperated moisture of the illustrator's sloppy line.  The horizon is like this paper.  I'm sorry, Sir, do you get this?
RILES: Here's what I get, Lad: before Muskrat was drafted into this forsaken conflict, before he became the best damned scout in this company, he went to writer's college.  He's a bit of a prose-fiend.  Continue.
MULDOWNEY: The horizon is a line of red fishing line cutting over hills like the creamy guts of a trout left on the green seat of the canoe.  With the horizon, again -- I don't understand --
RILES: I don't need you to understand, Corporal!  Just read.  He will get to the scout report.  He must needs do it his way.
MULDOWNEY: And speaking of hills, three hills like elephants if one were hemming ways.  Now this is just abstruse wordplay.  Forgive me, sir, is it code?
RILES: Aye.  The code to me'heart.