2015年01月23日 Better than ever

I used to believe people when they said things get worse. Then I heard what he had to say on the couch in front me, 

"Even if you do everything by the book or you do bad things, you're still fucked in the end. My grandpa would never hurt a fly, and he was fucked in the end too."

"It's not that bad."
"No it's worse, because you've got nothing at the end of the day. They just take it all."

"Sometimes you can take back."
"True, but usually you're still screwed." He quipped.

"Okay. Fair enough. So what are we going to do?"
"Let's go to that Italian place downtown."
"I don't like Italian."
"They have a bar."
I smiled, "Let me get my jacket"

Is-It-Fiction: "Wake Up Rick"

"Don't point the barrel at me." You'd think they'd teach these guys to know better.

I was in basic. Before the war they were strict on us. I remember the beatings, although at the time it was frowned upon. "Drop and give me twenty-five" Apparently the DI, knew what vaffanculo meant. It was the last time that lazy Italian prick would dare to speak Italian again. A shiner and a swollen lip tends to do that. I never liked that guy anyway.

"It's not loaded." He said bringing me away from my thoughts.

"I don't care. Carry on with your drill, just keep the barrel out of my face."

"Okay, so we sweep really slowly like this..." He started to slowly, as if he was slicing a pie using the front of the barrel as a knife,  

"And when I see the enemy I hit him with my flash light."

Why bother? I told myself. When we were fighting in the war we just shot through the walls about a quarter of the time. Usually the enemy knew we were coming either way.

"Sounds interesting." I said smugly.

I woke up when I heard someone knocking on my office door. The dream disappeared, and Jack died a few months after we had that conversation. I thought about him from time to time, and I haven't forgotten some of the things he said.