admin
22 December 2023
My waking dreams get weirder still. In this one, I was on the frontlines of a great and terrible ground war in some distant land. I was running for hell over the sandbag embankments with my weapon in hand, decked out for death with destructive implements of every description. Grenades by the score swung to and fro, and my lucky brain pot clung desperately to the top of my freshly shaved head. To avoid the shrapnel from a sudden blast, I dove into a nearby foxhole, ignoring the bodies of the deceased I landed upon. I popped my head up to get a peek at my situation, and slid back down the dirt wall of my sudden home. I checked my dad's watch and yelled, "Breakfast! Breakfast!" as if I were calling for a medic.
Presently, a haggard young Joe in standard green battle fatigues came hauling ass toward me, a large “B” emblazoned on the side of his helmet. He was wearing a large olive drab field pack with the same insignia. Breathlessly, he slid down beside me, and opened his pack.
"Okay. We got some leftover toast, a few sausage patties, and the rest of this Oscar Juliet if you want it, but the--" His words were drowned by nearby gunfire. "Here,” he said, hauling forth a large canteen, "is the rest of the coffee. I've got some sugar left, but HQ says we're out of cream. Donuts are still on order--" We both duck our heads simultaneously in response to a mortar round exploding somewhere close by. "--but with the heavy shelling those guys are taking back by the 177th, it doesn't look like they'll be here anytime soon. What can I get you?"
"Got any cereal?" I asked.
His face took a pained expression. "Hey, come on, man. Just what you see here. I ain't yer mother, soldier, and you ain't back in Oregon, or wherever the hell yer from! Now make up your mind!" RATATATATATAT! KA-BOOM! "I got a shipment of pancakes coming in tomorrow, a cake in the oven, and about three-million other things to do. What's it gonna be?"
"Fine. Give me some of that java, black. Couple slabs of that toast--" RATATAT KA-BLAM! "--any jam to go with this? And I'll take a few sausage patties. That'll be all." He handed over the goods, and once his window of escape opened, he took it.
Presently, a haggard young Joe in standard green battle fatigues came hauling ass toward me, a large “B” emblazoned on the side of his helmet. He was wearing a large olive drab field pack with the same insignia. Breathlessly, he slid down beside me, and opened his pack.
"Okay. We got some leftover toast, a few sausage patties, and the rest of this Oscar Juliet if you want it, but the--" His words were drowned by nearby gunfire. "Here,” he said, hauling forth a large canteen, "is the rest of the coffee. I've got some sugar left, but HQ says we're out of cream. Donuts are still on order--" We both duck our heads simultaneously in response to a mortar round exploding somewhere close by. "--but with the heavy shelling those guys are taking back by the 177th, it doesn't look like they'll be here anytime soon. What can I get you?"
"Got any cereal?" I asked.
His face took a pained expression. "Hey, come on, man. Just what you see here. I ain't yer mother, soldier, and you ain't back in Oregon, or wherever the hell yer from! Now make up your mind!" RATATATATATAT! KA-BOOM! "I got a shipment of pancakes coming in tomorrow, a cake in the oven, and about three-million other things to do. What's it gonna be?"
"Fine. Give me some of that java, black. Couple slabs of that toast--" RATATAT KA-BLAM! "--any jam to go with this? And I'll take a few sausage patties. That'll be all." He handed over the goods, and once his window of escape opened, he took it.
artid
962
Old Image
5_3_toast.swf
issue
vol 5 - issue 03 (nov 2002)
section
pen_think