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From: frank_fowlkes@yahoo.com
Newsgroups: alt.stories.urban-harvest
Subject: Re: Marry me
Date: Sat, 14 Feb 2004 23:15:33 -0800
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===================
7.3
Marry me
by
Frank Greene Fowlkes
A stumpy looking man entered the tent, looked around to see if anyone
was there to greet him, there wasn't, and, walking in the mess table's
direction, thought about calling out names but decided against it for
some of these brave men will not receive any letters tonight, or, for
that matter, the hard nights to come; he threw the thin stack of
letters on to the mess table and quickly exited with head bent low.
A couple of the young soldiers rushed up with rapid shallow breaths,
and finding their letter/s, quickly retreated back to their bunks with
relief.
Some of the unfortunate men did not even brother going up to the
mess table less they be humiliated by not finding anything but one of
those bulk letters sent out by some of those local no-war charitable
organizations--letters stamped with "we're doing everything possible
to stop the war, and, hey, by the way, everyone back home appreciates
what you're doing; we'll save you some; we all love you. Hang in
there, we'll get you home soon; PEACE!"
A strange, small, lot of the older, hardened, men were neither
expecting nor hoping for any letters, for those insincere days were
over as far as they were concerned; they had a war to win; they didn't
need know what many were supposable doing for the war, for the world;
they knew more likely they were doing it for themselves, for their
life, for their future. They smoked quietly in the dark, waiting for
the table to clear.
One by one the letters disappeared until there was only one. And there
under the diesel powered light and the haze of cigarette smoke, the
letter held fast until, like a summating forest fire, it could no
longer be ignored.
"Hey, Bitchmule, you gonna get that letter or am I gonna have to
lose it for you; we got a game of Hearts to play," one of the men
yelled.
"Gimme that!"
"Join the club."
"Fuck you!"
The men laughed.
Case looked at the letter as he walked back to his bunk.
The letter was postmarked July 16, 1970, Detroit, MI.
Case thought to himself, it's November.
He sat on his bunk and stared at the postmark. He silently thought to
himself, rehearsed many times alone, I know her answer; it was unfair
of me to ask; I should throw the letter away; I have to keep my mind
strait for my buddies; we have a war to win; we have to get back home
alive.
Scott walked passed several empty bunks and halted at the corner of
Case's unmade bed.
"Hey, Case, we need one more for Hearts. You want to play?
Case looked up.
"Uh, not right now."
Case motioned to the letter.
Standing there and unable to do nothing more, Scott looked at Case
until the silence became unbearable. He smiled. Scott and Gab
intercepted the letter one morning and kept it from Case, not because
it was anything new, people fuck the best available, and Case was far
from being the best, much less to wait for, but because maybe it would
be too much for the kid, with him listening in on the men when they
played Hearts, and his consequent nightmares. And so, they kept the
letter, and would of kept it until Case's last day but Larry persuaded
Scott to give him the letter tonight, Larry had a bad feeling about
tonight, and if the boy was going to die, other side of the world,
green and dark, blood staining the black earth, let him die with a
little of their truth.
"Ok. maybe later, eh?"
"Oh, Hell yeah!"
Case followed the slightly older man with his eyes. The man scared
him, scared him a little because of the rumors, strange rumors that
made him aware of his breathing. One of the boys told him one night,
about a year back, at the same time when some innocent villagers were
killed, that he heard about the special mission that caused their
deaths from one of the recon villagers, and decided to confront the
four men. One of the men asked him what he wanted to know, and without
waiting for his reply told him: they went to arrest a suspect guerilla
leader; he was with his family chatting and eating rice when we came;
we had him surrounded, and he knew, we too, that he had special
information and wasn't planning to be taken alive, i.e., he was going
to sacrifice himself for the cause, but you could tell something
wasn't right; he was too close to his family, and if he wasn't
planning to be taken alive then he would have to fight, putting his
wife and their kid at risk; it was dark, and the fire just made
matters worse; then the man moved quickly, and Larry opened up, then
Gab, then the rest of us; we searched the place later, only finding
some wet papers he was supposed to deliver somewhere, a map, and
a plastic doll, and then we left but not before we searched him--he
had a grenade; maybe we should have let him rush one of the boys,
distancing himself from his family so he could blow himself up but to
have allowed that would have allowed him to get closer to one of us,
maybe are lives aren't as important; but don't worry soldier, Case
would wonder about this the most before Gab's death, and the guy who
told him the rumor couldn't explain it either, but now understood a
little of it, we hear the guy has about nine other brothers and
sisters, not to mention his other kid and woman, about 20 clicks north
of Pao; he went to his grave well knowing he's still alive.
Scott talked to the other men at the table, and they all
turned and looked in his direction for a moment, then they all
rose, and soon they all disappeared from the light.
Case looked at the empty bunks to his right, Sam, Joey, Gram, and
thought, I have to read her letter; I may not comeback from the war,
many won't; I have to know her answer even if it means dying with it
here.
He closed his eyes and felt the letter's edges.
Why had the letter taken so long to get here; what was the agency
trying to protect him from, Case thought.
Deep down inside he knew why, maybe Scott was right, maybe they
thought he wouldn't be around much longer.
He looked again at her handwriting on the envelope and knew it had
changed. It looked like some of the handwriting on those charitable
letters, stamped in bulk, all alike, and only a blank line for a
temporary name.
Case looked up startled. He heard some racket coming from a dark
corner of the tent. Two figures were slugging it out.
"The cigarettes are mine, you fucking sneak," one of them yelled.
One of the men threw a right, and, simultaneously, a head snapped back
and a scream radiated throughout the tent.
The men around them began to cheer. Case stood up and saw Larry
standing over the man.
Towering over the shrieking man, Larry lit a cigarette and
said, "don't think I haven't been watching you, plotting, don't think
I'll turn away; don't start thinking I'll ignore what you're doing;
don't fucking push me; we'll make a point none of you will like."
A couple more shrieks broke, and, then, all was silent.
Case saw some of the cheering men grow silent, confused faces looking
at each other. Case shrugged and sat back down on his bunk.
Another surprised and befallen suitor, Case thought to himself as he
reclined back on his bunk. He heard one of those men use that phrase
one night. He ask Scott later that night, bombs raining down, some
screams heard, rain, what the man meant by the phrase. Scott only told
him, bend, snap, with help, but usually by themselves.
And so, with one or two distant explosions being heard, and a couple
of the boys laughing and cursing, the letter lay in his trembling
hands.
"Fuck it; I'm opening it."
And there, in the dim lit, current less, damp, tent, the letter was
open.
***********************************************************************
Dear Case so I
hope you are doing well and... Did you ... your sis is
getting
over
been over
a year now
you know
she meet someone new down at the plant. . .
good but one day
***********************************************************************
Case pulled out a smoke, lit the wrong end, and cursed.
***********************************************************************
I meet some new friends I
haven't told
you about...
***********************************************************************
"You've meet some new friends," Case said out loud.
***********************************************************************
...there against the war because... they want me to go to
California;
they
know this... I'm sorry Case I
can't marry you;
something has come up I
will always love and support you I just can't support the
war,
some things here are just more important
I just
can't bear to lose any of my new
friends; they mean so
much to me
***********************************************************************
Case put down the letter and looked up. He breathed out, and, as the
smoke was whirling away, he saw himself with some of those dead to be
men whose hard labor will be reaped by others faraway chanting
"peace," and although they choose not to see it that way, Gab told him
once, they benefit nonetheless. Case, beside himself, was beginning to
know, after all this time here, listening to the men talk, and making
sense out of his nightmare, it wasn't a gender issue, it was man,
woman, and child---what bloody person wouldn't want a better and
easier life; who wouldn't want to live forever; what two beasts in a
cage wouldn't fuck. Case read the rest of the letter.
***********************************************************************
you changed I can't even understand
some of the letters you send
me...
dark... you scare...
you are changing
***********************************************************************
"You mean don't care to understand, bitch," Case said, angrily.
***********************************************************************
Case you remember that talk we had before you left
Under the black tree
dead grass
sorry I think
we
should go our separate
ways
you have nothing to offer me in our
new world
***********************************************************************
I should have got the bitch pregnant when I had the chance; no, that
would have never happened, Case thought, she was starting college and
way too smart to let that mistake happen.
***********************************************************************
I wish you well with your life
if you ever
get back.
***********************************************************************
"I'll kill them," Case said quietly.
***********************************************************************
love, ya,
the war is over,
PEACE!
***********************************************************************
Case lowered the twisted and crumbled letter and visualized those
beloved long haired men and the women who love them pouncing around,
in ever so widening circles, with their little slogans held up high,
naked and proud. He thought, maybe Gab was right, he was their little
Bitchmule; their kind is always cutting back military research,
maintenance, letting more and more of their personal interests into
the affairs of the fighting men, giving our war veterans scraps, and
preventing us from winning the war once and for all. Case stared at
the letter again. Maybe I should read it again, Case thought, read it
the way
I was supposed to read it, the way everyone else would have read
it---anybody else would have read the letter different, wouldn't have
read
it the way Case, or those men, read it, but this isn't about them,
their
world, their truth, their letters, but it doesn't fucking matter, she
said no
, doesn't matter how she said it, or how I heard it, it's all the
same.
Case wanted to close his eyes and sleep but sat up instead. "Win the
war, alone, once and for all." Case took a deep breath. "Win the war
once and for all."
Case put the letter back into its envelope. He then thought about
writing back, she at least deserved that, to know he was still alive,
and ok with her, ok with himself, ok with life, but he didn't want to
write for her any more, i.e., contribute to her life, her image, her
future anymore, so he decided not to reply, at least not now, not
this way. He was dumped, dumped on the side of the road, and there
was nothing he could do to change that but write something to make her
feel pity now, and later, when grey and old, and needing to find
something to keep her mind occupied when not with her grandchildren
and their future, some guilt. He didn't need that, pity or guilt; he
needed her; he needed a reason to kill, to live, and now he didn't
have anything but a letter and some thoughts. They will find a way to
use you, to explain, to manipulate, you away, Case remembered the man
he hated the most saying to Larry one night, there will be no
apologizes, or second chances, to anyone, not to the dead, not to the
wronged, not to the marginalized living; in their new world, power and
life goes to the strong, to the wise, but this Case did feel despite
that, he wasn't going to be one of their props, to be remember one
night when there's nothing to talk about, to claim to have known and
now speak for when there is no longer a trace of his existence, to
have claimed to have always supported; he would get back alive, get a
second chance, back home, new job, another girl, far away from this
place, far away from these men. Case looked at the table, some cards
scattered over its surface. Case sighed--maybe he was just another
prop for someone else's life, looking then at the seat Gab uses to sit
at.
Case remembered Gab's last words to him. "Be right back. Save
me one of those cookies your Mom sends you." He missed Gab. He would
dream of Gab now, sitting around a fire with other men talking about
the best way to win the war. Case reached under his bunk and pulled
out a box with some of his mom's cookies inside. He looked in,
nothing.
"Fuckers!"
Some of the soldiers looked at him. Case twisted his face. Case then
stood up and walked outside. He looked around for a place he could be
alone, all the usual places where already taken. He settled on
crawling into a light depression in the ground twenty or thirty meters
south from the tent, Airborne digging it for cover after one of the
first jumps to secure the territory.
Case turned on his side. He was wishing he was never born.
Case was remembering some of the conversations he and the men had at
night while he watched them play Hearts. A lot of it didn't make sense
but one conversation in particular hurt, the men asked him about his
life back home. They all stared at him as he talked about his life,
Case leaving out most of it out because of not being able translate
feelings and ideas into words. He loved his parents even though they
were separated. He knew their reasons for separating were a little
true but he also knew now that Gabriel's reasons was little true too.
Case was a little shocked when he heard Gabriel speak about his
parents, never turning, and always keeping eye contact, because, one,
he didn't know a thing about his parents, their life, his life, but,
later he understood a little why he said what he said---we're in a
fucking war, and don't you ever forget that, and, two, he never heard
anyone talk that way, not back home, not in the movies, not in
any book. He thought of her; thought of the letter again.
She supported the war once; she supported him for the first ten
months. She wanted him to win, to come back, but there were other men,
other truths, and she learned maybe he wasn't supposed to come back,
maybe there wasn't a war to win, maybe the war would be won here, with
them, not on the other side of the world, not with Case, his
nightmare, the four men playing Hearts. She wanted the right baby, the
right life; she wanted their baby not Case's.
He then thought about Gabriel, dead, ambushed about a two
weeks back, seventy clicks south of here. And, funny thing, Gabriel
was always too careful to avoid bait, props, and a play, he knew what
part they always wanted him to play, dead and triumphant over, but
sometimes you can't avoid where you have to go in life, who you meet,
and so they killed him, right, he looking mad, wrong and themselves
looking like heroes. He heard Gabriel put up a good fight but it
wasn't enough he was still defeated dead, not to imply that he was
defeated with any treachery, it was a fair fight, just maybe the stage
was wrong, the audience and cast wrong, or maybe it was just something
he ate. They all trampled on him after he fell, even the village's
women and children, even the fat woman who tried to be his friend once
but couldn't because of a hate---a strange hate, some deep personal
hatred that could never surface, never leave the black smoldering
fire, that she didn't care to share, didn't care to share and help
him. Gabriel saw their anger, and as he lay there dying and hearing
their
anger turn to laughter his last thoughts were they would just have to
wait to see his anger.
Case thought about his own life here, knife, bullet, and imagined it
soon dead too. He imagined her, now an old woman, surrounded by her
grandchildren, and telling them a story, a story on how they finally
won the war once and for all.
He closed his eyes, remembering Gab, the men, and the Heart's game,
lantern on top of the blanket.
"He fucked wrong."
Case looked at the other men expecting them to smile, he not all in on
the joke.
"Or maybe she did."
Case was silent.
"He still has some life left, and he sure wasn't
going to waste it with the woman and their kid."
Case shifted his weight and looked at the other men expecting a clue.
Then one of the other men said, he was going to live, and maybe, he
would find the right woman, fuck right, and raise, their baby. . .
"His new and improved self," one of the other men interrupted.
". . . swell; and besides, she was lucky enough to have fucked
him and have the chance to have his kid, or really her new and
improved self, and have at least a chance to live forever, she sure
couldn't have done any better."
Case's face was red.
"When you have more then one, i.e., new and improved selves, more of a
chance to live forever, uh, Case?"
The men laughed.
"Hell, you can even sacrifice a couple of them, the one that are
lesser than the others. They do it all the time. And those sacrificed
ones are quite willing to be scarified, papa and momma should live
forever, even if it means they be the ones sacrificed, or they
sacrifice someone else, kill someone else, that's in the way, to make
that possible."
Case was beside himself, his fist clenched. "You don't know my
parents, my brother and sisters, assholes."
The men laughed.
"So what are their reasons, for separation?"
Case was silent. "They didn't love each other anymore."
"And what about for breeding?"
"Love."
The men grew quite. Scott lit a cigarette. Larry started looking
around the tent, scratching his head at the same time.
"It's cool, man, love, whatever."
Case looked at Gabriel.
"War's ending, Case, good chance your love will win."
Case shook his head. "What the fuck are you talking about, man?"
"Nothing, Case, just talking shit, just pushing buttons to see what
you spit out, in your case, love."
Larry raised up his hand above his head, peace sign.
Case didn't know what else to say so he just left and went to sleep on
his bunk.
Case opened up his eyes. He stared at the top of the black grass
ripple, flash, rip, flash, rip.
***********************************************************************
OUR NEW WORLD
**********************************************************************
Rip.
**********************************************************************
I can't marry you.
*****************************************************************
Flash.
******************************************************************
You won't be a part of our new world.
*****************************************************************
Rip.
*******************************************************************
Love ya, PEACE
*******************************************************************
Case felt the rage swell, and the following broke from his lips
silently, "Your lovely new world, dear; we'll see about that."
Case took a deep breath and remembered the man he hated the most
saying to Gab while Larry was looking at a porno magazine, sometimes
writing numbers and dollar signs onto one of the naked woman's
breasts, "those hippie's self-interests are going to get in the way of
our research, maintenance, and the advancement of winning the war once
and for all; they will not put down our mission or our lives; this war
will be won." Case was being to suspected the reason was
simple---after some booze, some slogans, cool groovy music, drugs, and
some fucks, they'll all be off to make sure they'll live forever,
putting themselves, their interests, first, and forever in the center,
and who wouldn't be, the dead, and everyone knows the dead don't
matter, but Case didn't care anymore.
"So what!" Case rolled on to his other side; he saw something crawling
on the black ground. A second chance, another girl, a car, some beer,
weekends off, Case thought, as he picked up the caterpillar, feeling
it twist and turn in his closed hand. Case was tired of the war, and
the letter he expected in a way, she was a beautiful woman, and if she
wanted babies, wanted to live forever, it was her right to give
herself the best shot. He knew the four men and his nightmare didn't
go anywhere---a war to win once and for all, maybe the war would be
won there, with her, one piece dress, no panties, flip-flops near the
shore, endless blue water and some white clouds in the sky, and with
the men shouting Peace, fighting the real war at home, jockeying for
position. He wanted a family, wife and baby too, he strangely had to
admit, even if it wasn't going to be with her, even if it went against
everything he learned here, even if it meant living in their new
world. Case knew he was a dark horse, and although many are put down
before they have a chance to run, he would get in, hell, they might
even drag him inside their world, as a trophy, and he would live along
side them, might even catch up to those in the lead. He just needed to
get back home, get another chance, fuck the dead, fuck those four men,
fuck his nightmare.
Case pushed himself back up off the ground. He entered the tent and
sat down in one of the chairs near the entrance. Case twisted his
torso
side to side. He looked around for something to distract him. He saw
some soldiers surrounding a fellow looking at a porno magazine. Case
imagined them all jacking off and thinking about holding their
new and improved selves after some of momma's grunts and screams.
He saw another dude organizing all his letters into some sort of
shrine, a picture of a girl and her soiled panties in its center.
The guy was praying and saying something softly. Case couldn't make
out the words. He saw Larry smoking a joint and talking to a black
guy, the black guy nodding now-and-then and sometimes getting in a
word or two. Everyone liked Larry even though he went too far
sometimes. Larry was crazy that's why everyone liked him; the guy
gave people ideas, gave them hope, about the world, about themselves,
however, Larry was also complex, and that scared people too. They
couldn't fully understand Larry, his wisdom, his vision, but Larry
still tried, with smooth words sometimes, sometimes with shouts. Larry
looked over at Case and pointed to the joint. Case shook his head.
"So fucking what," Case heard someone yell, "so fucking what, you
don't fucking like it, then shut the fuck up and go take yourself
somewhere else and die, no one needs to hear it." He heard the guy
laugh, then silence. He then heard some voices but they were too far
away to make out. Case didn't bother looking outside to see who said
it. The guy was right, Case knew, no one needed to hear it, no one
needed to hear anything but the same old promises but what else was
there, only family, baby, hoping to live forever. Case looked at
Larry again, his fist in the air, black guy nodding, repeating
something, a roach passing between them, and thought, so what,
the dead don't matter, so what, promise, new and improved self, so
what, my life matters. Then Case said out loud, "My second
chance; just seven more weeks and I'm coming home." Case then looked
at some soldiers talking on the other side of the tent, near the other
exit; Case knew what they were talking about. Case got depressed
whenever he had to talk and listen to some of the young soldiers; they
didn't talk like some of the soldiers Case talk to at night while
dreaming, talk like those men who always played hearts at night; they
talked of life; talked of getting back home alive; and his dreams and
men playing Hearts talked of killing, of death; talked of winning the
war once and for all; and, so whenever he did have to listen or talk
to them, he just had to pretend, for their safety, for their feelings.
Case wanted to be more like them now. Case stood and started to walk
towards them; he wanted to be more like them than those four dead men.
"Case we need to talk to you."
Case turned around; it was Scott.
"Outside."
"Talk to me here."
"He wants to talk to you outside."
Case knew it was the man he hated the most.
"About what?"
"You know what."
Case stood up and walked out of the tent, Larry and Scott behind him.
Case starts to remember the last time he talked with the man he hated
the most.
"I don't understand, why?"
Larry started to laugh.
"Man, you think we get off on this?"
Case was trying to move over to the building to try to keep them all
on one side but Gab out flanked him.
Then Gabriel said from behind, "you think this shit not going
anywhere."
"No!"
Case felt his legs go out from under him.
Then one of the men Case hated the most said, "who'd expect
anything else out of you."
Case was mad. "I tried to do what you told me."
The men held him down. Scott bent down.
Scott said, "You're right, these boys are here for their families, for
their country, or just maybe out of dumb luck. But all this isn't
about these soldiers, they'll be returning home, alive and well
because of their faith and courage or maybe just simple dumb luck.
Scott paused.
"Maybe all this is isn't about them it's about some of the boys
who won't be returning because of . . .," Scott paused again.
Case saw sweat on Scott's face.
Scott stood up. "He doesn't know yet."
"Know what," Case shouted.
"Don't you too bend, Case, maybe they matter more than the soldiers
returning home alive to carry on with their lives. And maybe they
matter more than just creating the little comfy world many expect to
live in forever."
"What the fuck? Get the fuck off me!"
"And oh, this isn't about revenge, or hate, or destruction, or
another piece of ass, or pity, or someone thumping on a bible, it's
about putting faith on what we know to be true, about accepting what
we know about ourselves, others, and our motives, and about giving
someone else a real chance." Case looked at the man that he hated the
most.
"What the fuck are you talking about, give who a real chance?"
The man kicked him in the face, and Case faded out.
And that's when Case had his first nightmare, and well after that
nightmare, Case, at night, when sleeping, would continue to dream and
talk to dead soldiers. They told him stuff. They told him of old wars.
The wars they talked about changed sometimes. The soldiers changed
too, night to night, most young, some old. But, never changing, all
the nightmares, all the dead soldiers, all the wars, would always
center around winning the war once and for all.
"A war to win, get back home alive" they said, laughing, "not this
time, more like a migration sometimes."
Case looked down from the mountain, a couple thousand campfires shaped
rectangular against the black earth and black horizon.
"Those slowly pushed out to death as to make room for those back
home who really matter more."
"A new great war for God, country, family."
Case was cold, the wind whipping against the side of the black
mountain, against his face.
"Sometimes, in the past, the only war that has every has been waged is
to get rid of competition at home; maybe this war the same, maybe
it'll be the last great war; the last push to kill life that doesn't
matter; yet maybe it's a different war, like they say, a war for
life."
He then would talk strategies, talk tactics: this is too many men for
this space, or sometimes too few; our right is covered by the
mountain, it's are left flank we have to worry about; march, keep them
in rank; they can't cover it; hold them here; tell them to hold their
ground; yes always, young up front, old in back.
Case sees a young soldier throwing big rocks into the fire, red embers
rising
in all directions.
"It happens when not enough pussy to go around, or the pussy
is already staked or too old, i.e., not fresh, not clean, not healthy,
or something like that."
"Why would that change now?"
"The only purpose of war, or murder, is not to defend life but to
kill life that doesn't matter, or that gets in the way.
Case sees an old man and an old women talking to a group of children.
The man and woman point towards the edge of the black mountain. Half
of the children began running, battle cries, then soon they disappear
over the ledge, with not even a scream.
"And that happens by people closer to the center pushing those
not so close out, to war, to . . ."
The old man and old woman hug each other, the other little children
playing around them.
"They'll be more wars, more murders, plenty more, but not for the
ideals those close to the center speak, defend life, but to give
those who matter back home the best chance to score a better piece of
ass, or as it usually happens, several asses, so their selves, their
life, can continue, ssweet."
An old soldier hands Case a knife, the knife for the last fight.
The old man and old woman start to stare at Case.
"And, sure, they will live forever, so they go quietly to their graves
believing that, and those who don't, were push out, and don't matter
but, they mattered in a way, they have special days, remembered,
giving those back home more room, more pussy, more food."
The old woman smiles, then the old man, then all the children.
"So send them away, and if they happen to return winners, those close
to the center claim their victory as their own, in books, in stories,
in songs, in movies, but if they lose, they are forgotten, and get the
leftovers, however few of them return."
Case feels the weight of knife in his hand. The soldier that was
throwing rocks at the fire walks up to Case; he says something into
Case's ear.
Case's eyes begin to water, as he sees for the first time
a strange woman his age he has never seen before turn around
and walk away.
And that's how his dreams would always end.
"What the fuck, Boss."
Case was tired. The letter didn't make matters better either.
He wanted to survive, get home, get a second chance.
The man who Case hated the most turned around.
"Larry tells me you're thinking about quitting, quitting the mission."
Case looked over at Larry. Larry nodded his head.
"I was never fucking in."
Larry laughed, and Case let go of the caterpillar. Case knew Larry was
capable of anything. He had to be careful now. Larry could attack and
kill him, and there would be nothing he could do but only fight for
only time, enough time to think one last thought, her face on his
chest, a quiet afternoon fishing with his father, or a couple of beers
and fixing the green jeep with a couple of the boys from section seven
seven.
"You helped kill Gab, Case. You know that don't you," Larry shouted.
Case's face turned red. "What?"
"And surrounded by the artifacts of war and guised truths back home,
you dreamt of a future family, country, and God, while Gab was getting
killed."
"No one encouraged Gab to go to the village."
Larry motioned to Scott. Scott backed off a bit.
"And they'll drag you in, claim victory, while leaving us out."
"You have the same chance I have, just gotta get back alive."
"Just gotta get back alive, uh, Case."
"Just like that, you leave, you leave us, you leave the nightmare."
Case was getting confident.
"Fuck, yes."
Case knew their side, and he didn't want anything to do with it, not
even with the letter, not even with the nightmare.
"I don't care. No one will ever care. I want to live. I want to leave
this
place behind me. I want to leave all you behind me. I want a life."
The man Case hated the most looked down to the ground.
"You don't want to help us win the war once and for all?"
"War is being won, not here, but back home."
"Very well! Go be a part of pussy and dick's family."
Case goes back into tent, takes a nap before the night's mission
dreams of home, dreams of his second chance, dreams of catching up,
dreams
of meeting a girl. Then he dreams of hanging out with some old
people---the survivors of life, drinking beers with them, talking
about the war and how it was won.
Case awoke with a thud.
"It's time to move, saddle up!"
Case sat up and looked at the twisted letter. The rest of boys in camp
never
like the way Case read letters, or looked at life. They say that he
would twist and manipulate the letters until he read what he wanted.
But what they
didn't know was that Case was only untwisting them. He was reading
them without the guise and hack. But it didn't matter anymore; he only
wanted to get back alive and leave all this behind him. But, he knew
just as he was unbending and untwisting the letters with his hands and
mind, there were those who were doing tighter and stronger twisting,
to suit, but he didn't care about that either, he might even someday
join them, help them, help himself.
No nightmare, no four men playing hearts will ever tell Case how to
read his letters anymore, breathe his air, raise his future kids, or
live and act in this world that he risked his life for. Case left the
letter, which to the casual observer looked crumble, on the bed. He
started to prepare his gear.
Case looked back at the letter and thought silently to himself, it's
ok.
Case viewed the men dawning gear and thought "you are right, you were
always right, life goes to those who are strong."
He started to walk towards the opening, thought of something,
paused near one of the empty bunks, and pinched a plug of
tobacco.
"What did I forget!"
He heard Larry cracking a joke.
"Just need to get back alive."
. . .
. . .
. . .
the night's mission, Larry, Scott, most hated man, killed, "by
mistake, by accident, from crossfire" Case survived.
. . .
. . .
. . .
Journey is the death of his family, member my member,
And nothing he can do about it
All die in the four ways: old age, murdered, accident, suicide;;;
don't think there are any more general ways to die
All takes place in seven months, starts feb 14, midnight, Orion
setting in the west, and ends aug 14, 0500, orion rising in the east.
. .
Father
Mother
Brother
Sister
Wife
children
himself
*
*
*
* * *
* * *
* * *
pop dead, mom dead, brother, sister dead, he dead
surreal . . . .
Past midnight,
All this takes place with the knowledge of the war, and case is ok
with it
Case doesn't want to attack the family, he wants to live
Have a family of his own
Case knows he doesn't need to do anything, they do it for them selvesw
You need a place, a topic, after the war case tries to go on, live on,
Get over it, etc, but can't
, First is war,
conflict
, Ok with it
, Solution
Himself
Another book about pussy and dick
What does dick do to pussy this time,
Let me guess, dick saves pussy, or pussy saves dick
More and more, pussy and dick stories.
He would help them, man, woman, children, he cared about them
He wanted to help them,
He want to show her, show her his life, a new place
Read books of pussy and dick
Watch films of pussy and dick
Case returns home.
Starts ( LIFE ) but Case is unable to "fit in"
his girl kills his baby,
leaves, not really home, wanders around, four years, a little odyssey,
furthers his knowledge from war, furthers his knowledge of life
Meets Larry and the man who he hated the most.
Only myth that man has is destruction and the survivors, the chosen
ones.
Always, always, why would it be different now
And yes, go to the grave, safe, you'll be one of those survivors when
the flood comes, or the sky falls, the bomb falls.
. . .
. . .
. . .
RETURNS HOME
Case meets the strange woman in his nightmare.
Case finally gets married, and they both have only one child.
The knife used to make sure of no other future children, no other
women, or man, but the first one.
Still much and the same, same old world, murders, people fighting for
the right to improve their selves, positioning themselves, live
forever, with property, with medicine, with most of the world's
resources, etc., but AI being developed, propulsions being develop,
send out to space, dead soldiers around a campfire looking up to the
sky, to win the war, with or without man, once and for all.
End
\Who wouldn't want a little more money
after tax day to... Chucks, they earned that capital all by themselves
didn't they.\Why would anyone want that capital wasted on a Bitchmule
and to winning the war once and for all, much better spent on things
that matter in the comfortable world themselves?\Case looked again at
the letter and, in his mind, "doesn't feel beastly anger; beasts are
young; her friends are young; but, Case was intellectually alarmed;
they don't stay young forever, and soon those beasts grow old,
ignorant, powerful off the labor of the fallen, and,
hell, they even start to think they have a right to exclude us
returning soldiers that think differently from having any part in this
world. Think again, beasts!"
. . .
1 year later
"We all have our stuff that keeps us going don't we, Case?"
"Baby?"
"Yes!"
"You're baby is dead."
"Went to sleep one night and never woke up."
"You're lying."
"You weren't around, couldn't keep a job, you left."
. . .
"Old blood plunked down, plunked down for not only you but for all."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Case looked at his watch, still a few hours till patrol, and
decided to take a short nap.
(Dreams of returning home but also dream of talking, old wars and old,
dead soldiers.)
Going to work, going down to the beach, meeting women,
. . .
talk with the dead
A thud like jolt awakened Case.
-----
----
Case returned from just another 'war,' migration, then four year
journey; and found the suiters
had won, his baby was dead, s.i. syndrome, his high school sweetheart
did not wait,
his life was over, his world gone
his long journey, trials, no longer mattering, not recorded,
and so with no woman, no life(dead baby), no stake,
no purpose
a new direction is chosen.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Case went back, picked up his rifle, and headed to the opening.
Case unlocked the safety and tapped "Dear bitchmule letters, beasts
frolicking, and their psywar, all be damned; these men matter, this
war matters, my life matters, and nothing will ever change that."
Case looking at the men file out of the tent ahead of him knew he must
do everything in his power, now and tomorrow, to give these few brave
men, even the one's fighting for a pack of cigarettes, here and back
home, the best fighting chance possible to win the war and make it
back alive to their homes to reap the harvest of their labor and love.
"As long as there is a War, the U.S. military and its veterans
will be support to the maximums of your coffers you bitch.
. . .
Men go out on their mission, all the men are killed except a handful.
Case goes home for a year meets a new girl, tries to settle down, but
soon discovers the subtle ways to separate, when measure aren't meet.
. .
(Case starts his four year journey.)
"I could shape and bend her letter the way they want me to; the way
it's been done since the dawn of time." But I won't; this world will
not be their inheritance.
. . .
(Then he returns home home, in mind, New world, 1977, or around there)
. . .
This might be a 15,000-20,000 word story, naw, I'm not putting in the
fluff, maybe 10,000.
Odyssey: VIETNAM, his four year ODYSSEY-cut out the trails, one eye
jack, and stuuf, AND HIS
Be warned
of who or what you put first."