Friday, May 13, 2011

Vietnam -- Fat Chance

If I had a dollar for every time someone called me by my real name, I’d starve.
I’ve been called “Boom Boom”, “Boomer”, “Dick”, and whatever rank I held “Edwards”.  I suppose I shouldn’t take offense to this.  Guess it is stupid to do so. Sign of my immaturity.
All reasons why I should discount abuse for what it is discount why it is.
See it in the right light, they can call me what they want and I can’t do the same. I want to tell them to jump on the hades express for a one way ticket to hell.
I wasn’t always this way. My pissed list consisted of one: My brother Paul.
What most mothers don’t realize is when they let their boys play with real guns and bullets for Uncle Sam, that the US Government owns that body and does everything in its power to kill it dead before the contract ends.
The devil’s scribe learned from the military how to craft his deed.
So, I’m here at Camp Eagle wondering how a dyslexic, cross eyed and flat footed fool who signed up for 3 years got even past the physical, much less found himself in Vietnam:  the hell hole of all hell holes.
Could it get worse? It did. Someone took boy scouts and turned them into military cowboys.  Someone also made a pecking order that only an idiot would agree to. Wonder why so many died in Vietnam? Simple, no one was there to tell the boy scouts Nam was no summer camp. There was no rewind, no second chance and no putting a body back together after it has been blown to bits. The body bags were all lined up on the tarmac at Da Nang.
For them, the movie was over.
The least they could do is have enough respect for me to call me by my real name.
Fat chance.   
The system let socially correct men become officers, bullies became Non Commissioned Officers and totally naive idiots like me myself became their bitches and slaves.
Do feel sorry or mad.  Facts are facts.  If you put your hand into the hornets’ nest, the cost is getting stung.

When you sign on the dotted line, the cost is your life.  For a young man such as myself, it is the deceit of the contract that really gets to me.
So, you’ll have to excuse me when I say, the stench of distrust fills your noise on a daily basis, it is hard to be calm enough to notice the times when the taste of won battles dances along the corridor of fond memories.
A high only second to a gold painted girl I make love to in my fantasies. I’ve often wondered what a silver or black skinned girl would be like doing her the same way. Come to think of it, pure milk chocolate from the cast of a nude girl would be really cool.
Accuse me of being refer high or dead drunk.  The truth is, I get enough high from life. It is the best bag in town. Okay, Camp Eagle, Vietnam.
When you are young, mystery fuels sensual desires. When you age, maturity reveals a fool.
I’ve often wondered what a Cobra would look like painted solid gold. Guess, that would probably be too much to ask to see my deadly, sexy lady painted that way.
Come to think of it, a solid chocolate replica of a Cobra would be totally awesome.
Fat chance.

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