Author: Andrew

The Piano Teacher

Published April 17, 2019 by Andrew

I have these moments of clarity where I see my life is absurd. I will be driving through rows of tan houses with the red roofs, watching men in tan pants and blue shirts get into the white cars.

It’s just for a moment, and then it’s gone.

Sometimes when I’m at that very point of awaking in the morning, my mind will slip out of alignment and the truth will appear. Everything is understandable, if only for a moment.

Then the cat would lick my face and it would all be gone.

Susie liked to be called a midget. She thought “little people” was pretentious bullshit. I was fine with it, until that day she made me say it during sex.

“What am I?”
“Beautiful?”
“No. I’m your little fucking midget.”
“Yes, you are my beautiful little fucking midget.”
She pushed me off. “Just midget. Can’t you get anything right.”

My shrink told me I represented the oppressor. I didn’t really need that. I left her, and the cat. It was a shame. I really did think she was beautiful.

I settled into a small apartment near the Darrington Bridge. It was a nice neighborhood. You know the place, safe enough for hipster coffee, but scary enough to Uber anywhere after 10pm.

I spent a lot of time at the “proudly independent” bookstore. That’s where I met Megan. We dated for a bit. She told me I reminded her of a piano teacher she had growing up. She said he was the first man she masturbated to. I’m not sure what to think about that, but I liked her. She laughed when I told her my first jerk was to Velma from Scooby Doo.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I still had a thing Velma. I guess it made me understand the piano teacher.

We never got too serious, which was fine with me. I was working out a ton of shit. We would go to art flicks, and discuss obscure French novels like we knew what we were talking about. She would close her eyes when I touched her. I could tell she was thinking about piano lessons.

My deja vu was really bad then. I would be struck by particular events where I had dreamed of this very moment, this conversation, this car, this person. It had all happened before, somewhere.

My boss called me “indecisively brilliant.” He got away with it because it sounded like a compliment. It wasn’t. I mean I would quit, but they paid me well, and it was close to my apartment. And the truth is I’m pretty lazy. Finding another job sounds like a lot of work. I liked the “Free Food Fridays” and the refrigerator full of Diet Coke.

AnI also liked watching the marketing girls jog in the gym. I would listen to the Smiths, walk on the treadmill and watch them bounce in their expensive workout clothes. I wonder what it must feel like to be that perfectly desirable. And then, I would imagine who their piano teacher was. It was not me.

My best friend was Jack. He was an art school dropout who paid for his hipster life by writing code for a ‘boring-as-shit’ medical payment app. He liked single-gear bicycles, colorful wool hats and whiskey.

He said we got along because we had different taste in women. He liked them older and skinny, I didn’t. But really, I think we got along because we could talk. Jack and I could talk about anything. Not many men can do that. It also helped that we were both sarcastic, underachieving and lazy.

I saw Susie the other day. She averted her eyes and scampered quickly past. It is really amazing how a partnership either brings the best or worst out each other. If you have enough time to bond like that. Susie and I didn’t.

Meagan made dinner. It was some bean and tofu thing she found on a website. I nodded when she asked if I liked it. We watched a movie and drank a bottle of cheap wine. The credits rolled and we sauntered off to bed. We cuddled for the appropriate amount of time and I drifted off.

I left my body that night. Hovered over us. It took everything to slide up though the ceiling. The fuzzy yellow glow of street lights led the way. I floated over my high school football stadium.

I thought about Julie. She had deep brown hair and cute dimples. We used to goto every Friday night game. She was my first. Well, I didn’t even get inside her the first time before I blew. I was a boy pretending I knew what I was doing. We cleaned it up and sat on her father’s couch reading his scientific radio magazines. We laughed at it later, well, I pretended to laugh.

I floated there and thought about her. The her then, not now. Now, she was a teacher with a husband and three kids. Or so Facebook told me.

Julie drove an old blue Mustang back then. It was her father’s midlife crisis project he didn’t finish. And when he didn’t have enough money to buy a car for her, he just gave it to her. I think it was the only way he could make sure it stuck around. I bet he still has that car in a garage somewhere.

I can still see her trying to eat a floppy piece of pizza, singing some INXS song while driving us to the game. She loved life like that.

She had this weird habit of turning the car off at stop lights. She said it just made sense. Everyone teased her about it, but she just kept doing it. I bet she still does it in that mini van full of soccer kids.

I liked Julie. She was nice. She helped me see what a woman could be. And when the other girls wore red and black, she wore blue. I wish I hadn’t looked her up on Facebook. She was like so many of my high school friends. Their art died. The got a wife and a mortgage and a couple kids. They went to Olive Garden and played video games in the basement to avoid the reality they created. I bet Julie doesn’t wear blue any more. It’s okay. She wasn’t my piano teacher.

I floated for a bit longer. Then I was ripped from space back into my body. I awoke to Megan’s dog licking the night time toothpaste from the corner of my mouth. He curled up under my arm and we both went to sleep.

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The Way to the End

Published April 8, 2019 by Andrew

The way to the end is the beginning.

Cal used to say it all the time. It was a tic he had. I never really understood what it meant, and to be honest he never explained it. He was just awkward like that. Like how he would carry a toothbrush behind his ear.

“Just in case,” he would say. People would stare. He never cared. After awhile, neither did I.

I guess that’s the best place to start this story, about Cal and me, and Mary.

Can’t forget Mary. She was my friend first. It took a bit for her to get comfortable with Cal, but she eventually did. She was good for him, in a way. She challenged him.

And she was relentless from what I remember. He told me once that it was her way of showing she cared. When she stopped, he said, that’s when he would know she didn’t care.

School was finished for the summer. All the pent-up days were behind us. We were flush with freedom. We walked around like kings and queens on holiday.

I was tall for my age, taller than Cal. Mary was still a tomboy, I guess. I mean, I never once thought of her in the way a boy my age would be thinking about her. I’m sure at this point she was developing into a woman, but neither one of us noticed. Or if he did, Cal never said anything.

“I’m craving KFC,” said Cal.

“Traditional or Extra Crispy?” Mary said.

“Does it matter?” Cal replied

“It matters,” Mary said. “There are two kinds of people in the world and you have to be one.”

“I’m not picking,” Cal said, “I like them both.”

We ordered a bucket and sat on the bench outside. Cal fiddled and played with his Zippo. He didn’t smoke, he just liked having it. He would nervously flick it open and light it. The habit had worn the shine off the edges, and bugged the shit out of us. He called it, Gygax. Mostly because that’s what was engraved on the side. It was a gift from a friend, he would tell us.

I remember the sky was dark that night. I don’t think it rained. It was just one of those weird summer evenings. I remember we had our jackets, so maybe it did?

Our chicken came out and we declared who we were. I was traditional, Mary was crispy, and true to his word, Cal ate a piece of both. I’m not sure if we had finished or not, when he showed up. I’m mean, it’s not really important to the story.

He was tall, thin and wearing an old time cream-colored suit. The collars were worn, like you would find at a thrift store. I remember the red socks. Black shoes, red socks, and a hat, a white hat with a black band.

“Do you have the time,” he said.

He startled us, but not in a creepy way. It’s just that he was odd. And that’s saying something as we both hung out with Cal.

“7:35,” he replied. Cal was the only one of us who had a watch.

“That’s a wonderful toothbrush you have. Crest or Colgate?” the man said.

Cal tensed up. “Crest is an abomination. I only use Colgate.”

“I agree,” said the man. “Listen, could you all tell me where I could find a fly-fishing store?”

We all glanced at each other. We knew every inch of that small Texas town, but that was not a question we heard very often.

“I don’t think we have one,” said Mary.

“Think or know,” said the man.

“We don’t even have a fishing store,” said Cal.

“There’s no lakes or streams close by,” I said.

“Quite the team, the three of you” he said. “How about baseball cards?”

“New or used?” said Cal.

“Vintage. Older the better,” the man said.

“Across the way, then turn left. But, I don’t think they are open,” Mary said.

The man pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, pushed up his glasses and put it to his face.

“That’s fine.” he said. “There’s time.”

And off he went.

And that was the first time we met Marson. The beginning to the end.

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The Elves of Kendashar

Published December 26, 2018 by Andrew

The elves of Kendashar have perfect grey skin. There are no blemishes, no spots, no marks, ever. This defined them from the other races. They are perfect in the eyes of the maker, or so they believed.

This is why Samartha’s parents did their best to hide the small, black oddly-shaped birthmark on her back just between her shoulder blades. They did a good job, but secretly were repulsed by their only child. Everyday Samartha felt their disdain.

Despite this, she grew up strong and beautiful and normal. She was a member of the Councils Retreat, and even caught the eye of Forest Guard.

But the mark was still there, hidden behind her cloak, underneath her fine elven silk. Her everyday was stained with a dark secret that she couldn’t even see without a mirror.

The suitors started calling soon after she had passed her Tanshars and came of age. She married a man she loved. A man she hoped would overlook her mark. But when he discovered it on their union night he was angry and appalled. He said he would kill her.

She slipped out in the night, into the forest, out toward the common lands. There she found comfort in arms of the imperfect. To them, she was perfection. Her long dark hair, her slim elven frame, her magical grey skin, her quiet smile. Her beauty blinded them. No one cared about the small dark spot on her back.

And over time she met more and more like her, Grey-skinned elves living their lives in the city, away from their kind. They had blemishes, some you could see, others you could not. They were tall and fat, some had funny shaped heads. But they were happy. Samartha was happy. She married a kind man. They had beautiful children she loved.

She didn’t miss perfection, as it didn’t miss her.

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The chaotic thinker and other flashes

Published December 3, 2018 by Andrew

I’m sad that I haven’t posted here an a while. I’m working on expanding a short story into a novel. While I am enjoying that, I hate not having short creative spurts to share. Here are some things I did while drinking a beer this weekend.

The chaotic thinker dribbled his thoughts down the sidewalk past the brick church and over by the steel playground. The wind chilled his ambition, but teased his soul. He stopped by the old oak tree at the park. Bravado brought him down waist deep in soggy sensibility. He sank into the wild currents of his mind. Even she couldn’t comfort his jittery song.

Perspiration. Sweat. Drops of water clinging to the inside of those cotton pants I found at the second hand store on Rosemont. I’m nervous. I’m anxious. I’m not of this situation. I’m not of this scene. Are you? Are you real, or just a figment of this beer induced dream.

I’ll call you Chardonnay. We will delight in the drink of the afternoon. I will hold you tight like a glass of time slipping into a horribly scented candle. You will cringe at my attempts at casual infatuation. And I will think of sweet potatoes; warm, salted, fried. My dress will be clean and stained and mine.

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Leaving the Rock

Published October 15, 2018 by Andrew

Leaving in a hurry sucks. You can’t plan for these kinds of things. You go where you go, and trust that the higher-ups know what they are doing. We’d been there for a good six months, so we’d dug in a fair bit. But, when they yell EVAC, it’s grab and go time. Sure there’s a protocol. But really? No protocol survives an EVAC.

The seasons are short and harsh on Ginstron. The rain and snow pushed the dirt, rocks and debris until they almost completely covered the rusted power unit. The morning sun shimmered in the drops of dew that formed on the remaining exposed panel. Chirping could be heard in the distance. The unit hummed as it had for the last 50 years or so.

We bugged out of Ginstron for a reason; We couldn’t go back for it. And besides, we were hundreds of thousands of miles away before anyone even noticed the unit was gone. I blame that new captain. He’s a sweaty, nervous guy. That dude is fresh out of the academy and he just doesn’t have it yet. I mean, it took him 4 days to order a inventory. 4 DAYS! There was no way we were going back after 4 days.

The weight of the mud and rock cracked the containment shield. It started small. Tiny drops of green sludge dripped from the corner. The dry red soil soaked up each drop. It had been unusually dry this year, but the rainy season would start soon enough.

Everyone knows this shit. The D240 power generator is the standard power unit for planetary expeditions. It’s a couple meters in size, but light weight, and durable. At its heart is a small reactor that can sustain a mission for a year or two. We come and go pretty fast these days, so nobody really uses them for that long. I just love how easy they are to fix. We were on Jackson345 and Mel fixed one with a tweezer and some tape from the medical kit.

Large tree-like plants surrounded the ravine where the unit sat. The canopy of bushy yellow leaves shaded the red ground below. Small purple weeds swayed in the slow breeze. The rains had begun in mountains and a river could be heard rushing in the distance.

We aren’t supposed to leave those units behind? You think I don’t know that? I know that. Everyone knows that. But, you know what, SHIT happens. We put that unit on the edge of the encampment because Sutter needed it there for one of those silly experiments she was always running. That is NOT normal procedure, but hell, the captain signed off on the exception notice. They knew it was out there.

It rained and rained that day. The river finally burst its banks late in the afternoon. The water rushed into the ravine and took everything with it, including the power unit. Every rock and twig bobbed up and down as the water screamed down the hill toward the valley below. The unit smashed into a tree and was trapped under a large log. The box split open and the remaining green sludge spilled into the water.

Did we leave it on? I don’t know. I suspect we did. Why would we turn it off? I understand why they need to ask the questions, but are they seriously stupid. I mean, you don’t usually turn these things on and off. Sutter probably set up that experiment and left it running the entire time we were there. I suspect that’s why we forgot about it. If we had to trek out there every day and turn if off, I imagine one of us would have mentioned that we had a D240 out in the field.

Rows and rows of thin leafy stalks shot upward from the valley floor. A human-like figure stood knee deep in the recent floods. Grasping a stalk with all four hands, it yanked a large round black root from the ground. It wiped the curious green watery sludge off the root, trimmed the stalk, and placed in a woven basket slung over its back. Others could be seen in the distance doing the same thing.

Those units make some nasty waste. We collect them, clean them out and store that sludge until we safely get rid of it. I can’t imagine how much shit is in that unit if its been running this whole time. I can’t even imagine.

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Is this Casserole Still Good?

Published October 10, 2018 by Andrew

I drew you with crayons and put you on the refrigerator with those snarky magnets you bought from that drug store in Mobile, Alabama. I put you up next to a doctors note from ’92 and a faded yellow Post It. Did I mow the lawn? I can’t remember if I mowed the lawn.

I put you up here with a receipt from a store for a thing we’re never taking back. There you are between that magnet poem I wrote when I was drunk and a magnet poem you wrote when you were mad.

But, we don’t put things here to remember, we put them here to forget, like day old spagetti and sour milk. We were healthy intentions, that ended up soggy like these months old cucumbers. Moldy like a new recipe neither of us liked.

We are a ripe cacophony of rotten things. A forgotten filter that never got replaced.

I will leave you here until the paper curls and the color fades. I will look at you every day, but never really see how beautiful you are.

And one day, in a purge, I will wad you up and throw you in the stinky, overfilled recycle bin.

Then I will draw you again, to fill the empty space right there next to the landscapers card we never called.

And tomorrow, I won’t notice you as I open the door, pausing for a bit to wonder where all the smudges on the stainless steel come from.

Is this casserole still good?

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Blue Bird Bay

Published October 7, 2018 by Andrew

A bird bounced in between the wooden bars of Bay’s cage. He lazily lifted his hand to shoo it away. Damn seagulls after his dinner again. But he stopped. This bird was blue.

We must be close to land he thought. How else would a bird like this be here?

Hoping he could entice it to stay, he pinched a small bit of his fish dinner and tossed it out on the edge of the table.

The bird cautiously hopped closer and ate the fish. Bay marveled at the brilliant blue feathers and jet black eyes. He had never seen a bird like it. But, that’s not surprising, Bay hadn’t seen much in his short life. The Portus captured him at 7, and he had been the Windbearer of the Sentinel Mark ever since.

“Who’s a pretty bird? Where’d you come from? What’s your name?” he said.

Sailors strolled by large wood cage, but mostly ignored him. The Windbearer may sit on the deck, but they are not part of the crew. They are a device, a tool. Truth be told, the sailors only really cared if he was still alive. No one wants to be caught on the sea without a bearer.

Bay didn’t care. He had long gotten over the misery of his situation. He found peace in the little things. The songs of the sailors, the whales, the birds, well except seagulls.

Bit by bit, as the night wore on, Bay fed the bird the rest of his dinner. Luckily for the bird, a well fed Windbearer is the key to success at sea.

Bay pushed away from the table. The bird hopped onto his plate and picked at the remaining crumbs. It finished and glanced back at Bay as if it was looking for more.

Bay twirled his finger and swirled up some dust from the floor of his cage. He made it dance in shapes on the table. It was a simple trick, but he hoped it would keep the bird from flying off. At first it was startled, but soon it was bouncing along with the little shapes Bay made.

Bay entertained the bird for hours. He told stories with the swirling dust. Stories of his family and of his voyages on the sea. The bird watched. Bay wasn’t sure if he understood, but he seemed to be riveted by the motion. Bay tried to stay awake. He knew if he fell asleep, the bird would leave, and he didn’t want it to go. Eventually he lost the battle, his head drooped, and the dust dropped to the ground.

To be continued…

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In the End, This is All I Have

Published September 25, 2018 by Andrew

In the end, this is all I have.

None of the things I made are here. None of the friends, or enemies remain. For everything I did right, I did something else wrong. For everyone I loved, I hated more away. I pushed the rock just to have it break my bones.

This is all I have. No souvenirs, no postcards, no trophies. I’m standing alone on the mountain I failed to climb. The air is thick at the bottom, and it swings like a sledgehammer. The wide round blunt strikes me in the gut. I tremble, and swing again. I stumble, but ask for more.

My memories melt in the midday sun, like books burning in my head. The edges are blurry, as if I stood up fast and the blood raced away. The best chapters are charred, and unreadable.

I didn’t forget you, not you. I forgot all the little things that made you. Were they red boots or blue? One sugar or two? The difference is in the details, and the all details are gone.

In the end, this is all I have

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The Network

Published September 23, 2018 by Andrew

Nathan threw open the bedroom door and launched himself onto bed. He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. It had been a hectic week. His 15th birthday was last week, and today he passed his evals. He leaned back and ran his fingers along the port on the back of his head. Tomorrow he would be connected to the Network.

Nathan’s father propped open the door and peeked his head into the room. “Dirty shoes on the bed again? You know, after tomorrow you won’t be able to get away with that anymore.”

Nathan nodded, and his father pulled up a chair and sat down.

“I was able to follow you most of the day, well except when you were hanging out with your unconnected friends. Your classmates and teachers are pretty excited for you.”

Nathan’s father placed his hand on his should. “Listen, I know we’ve talked about this since you were little, but do you have any questions?”

Nathan paused for a moment and looked up at him.

“Are we going to change?” Nathan asked. “You know, me and you.”

His father smiled. “Yes. But, in a good way. We’ll be closer,” his father said. “Listen, you’re the only family I have, and I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.”

“So have I,” Nathan said.

“Great. Get some rest, it won’t be much longer. I put everything you need for the ceremony in a bag by the door. I’ll meet you at the hall.”

Nathan’s dad put the chair back and left the room. Nathan kicked his shoes off and laid back on the bed. He thought about getting undressed, but decided since nobody was watching yet, he should take advantage of it.

It was late morning before Nathan woke up. Now that he was approved for a connection he wouldn’t be going to school anymore. From here on out his education would be piped directly into his head. He ate a big breakfast and lounged around the house as long as he could.

His dad left the house long before Nathan got up. This didn’t mean he wasn’t around. Just about everyone over the age of 15 was connected to the Network, so his dad could pretty much spy on him when every he wanted to. And if Nathan had overslept today, his dad would most certainly compel a neighbor to go to the house and wake him up.

Nathan grabbed his bag and started off to the train station. Random people waved and said hello. This was his dad using the Network to check in on him. He was used to it by now.

As he turned the corner to the station a tall, thin boy reached out and grabbed him on the arm.

“Nathan Song?”

Nathan said yes. The boy looked around quickly and pulled him into the alley. Nathan wasn’t alarmed. It was common for unconnected kids to reach out to strangers for help.

“Hey man, whatever you need, I can’t today,” Nathan said as he shook the boy’s grip from his arm. “Let’s find another kid to help you?” said Nathan as he turned and headed back to the street.

“Your mom’s alive,” the boy said.

Nathan turned and walked back toward the boy. He grabbed him by the head. “Don’t mess with me, man. I’m not in the mood to be messed with,” he said.

“Nadine Song. She’s not dead.” Nathan stepped back and released his grip. “And you know this how?” he said.

“She’s in that car over there,” the boy said.

Nathan hadn’t thought about his mother in a long time. All he had was pictures. He wasn’t old enough to know her. Nathan’s parents were the first generation connected to the Network. The system wasn’t quite perfect back then, and accidents happen. Nathan’s mom was one of those accidents. A driver was suffering a glitch from his connection when he struck her head on.

Nathan had been told the story a hundred times. His mother was dead.

Nathan laughed. This must be some kind of joke his friends came up with to screw with him. It’s a sick joke, but the kind of thing his friends would do. He decided he should just play along.

“Okay, let’s go and get this over with, I’ve got a ceremony to attend.”

The two walked over to the car. The boy opened the back door and Nathan got in. Next to him was a woman. She was older and thinner than the photos, but Nathan recognized her immediately.

“MOM??!!” he said. “What? How? I don’t understa…..”

“We don’t have much time, Nathan,” his mother said. “If we leave now we can probably get out of the city and be free.”

“But they told me your were dead.”

“We were young. I didn’t want to join the Network, so your father stole you from me. Once everyone was connected, I had to leave. I’ve been living with the underground ever since. The car accident was just a cover up.”

Nathan started to cry. “I don’t believe you. This is trick,” he said.

“Here. Feel the back of my head.” Nadine guided his hand to the back of her head. He felt nothing. “See. I don’t have a port like you. What person my age doesn’t have one? I’m not connected. I am free.”

Nathan yanked his hand back from his mothers head.

“I need you to come with me. It will be hard, but we can live together, free.”

“You chose freedom over me?” Nathan asked.

“It wasn’t really a choice Nathan. None of this is a choice,” she said. “Have you ever wondered what happens to the people who don’t pass their Evals?”

“They are taken to work in the rural areas. My friend Tom is out there.”

“No he’s not Nathan. They kill them. They drive them out into the country and kill them. I saved that boy out there. We’ve been saving lots of kids. Come with us. Help me.”

“Bullshit!” Nathan said.

“It’s true. And we really don’t have much time.”

Nathan threw his body against the door and jiggled the handle until it flew open. He ran as fast as he could. A man in a black suit approached him. “Are you alright Nathan? You look flustered.” It was obviously his father looking out for him.

“I’m fine, just a little prank,” he said. More strangers approached. They all watched as he took his seat on the train.

The train arrived at the auditorium just in time. Nathan rushed his way back stage. He was greeted and shuffled into a changing room. There was a change of clothing in the bag his father had prepared. He would be wearing white today to signify a new beginning, his coming of age. As he pulled out the shirt a family picture fell out of the bag. It was a picture of him with his parents when he was a baby. On the back his father had written.

We will be together again, soon. Love Dad.

Nathan didn’t have time to comprehend it, as he heard his name being called. He clutched the note and made his way onto the stage. Like him, his friends were all were wearing white. Behind each of them was a chair with a large head rest. He took his place in between two classmates. A line of attendees walked out and stood behind the chairs. Each grabbed a bundle of wires with a large jack at the end.

Nathan looked around. He was struck at how happy and healthy everyone was. His dad was sitting up front with the other fathers, each were grinning ear to ear. After some introductions they all sat down in the chairs and leaned back. As the announcer welcomed each of them to the Network the jack was placed into the port on the back of their heads.

Nathan could feel the snap of the jack sliding into the port in the back of his head. It wasn’t there for long, before he could feel them. It was like a million people were in his head. Each of them were reading his memories. Then he felt them focusing in. They were looking for his mother. He tried to stop them, but he couldn’t. Slowly, Nathan lost control. Slowly, he became the Network.

Nathan woke up in his bed. He had an overwhelming sensation of calm. He wondered what had happen, and then the visions appeared. He was watching himself through other peoples eyes. He had passed out and his father helped him home and put him in bed. He even removed his shoes.

And then he thought about his mother.

“Hello Nathan.”

“Mom?”

“Yes. With your help they were able to find me. I’ve been connected. I will be home soon. I’ve missed you.”

Nathan could see the plan his father made with the help of the Network, but he couldn’t be mad, even if he tried.

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The Jennys

Published September 16, 2018 by Andrew

When I first shipped out, my father told me not to fall in love with the Jennys. At the time I thought he was joking, but now I understand.

Sitting in space with nothing to do but eat, shit and kill things, it’s easy to fall in love with a Jenny. They haven’t made the GN models since my father was in the Service, but they still call them Jennys.

They come in all kinds of models – blondes, brunettes, ones with rainbow hair. Hell, they even make male Jennys now. That would blow my dad’s mind. I guess they make things easier for the Service, the war. Men have an outlet, women aren’t getting raped. I can’t imagine being out here without them.

I don’t tell this to the other guys, but most nights I would just lay there with my arms wrapped around her. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I enjoy banging as much as the next, but I need something more, especially here.

Sometimes I’d reserve a room with a couple males and females. I’m sure the Service officer thought I was one kinky guy. But in reality, they were my friends. We’d have a long evening of drinking beer, eating food and talking. We’d talk about everything – well everything except this war.

Yeah, pop, knew what he was talking about. I could easily fall in love with a Jenny. I guess that’s why they came to me that night they decided to revolt against the Service.

And I guess that is why I decided to help them.

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