many left. So many done passed away. Only new ones we had in a while was from Beirut. Had one from Grenada but he went home, too. Home to his Lord.
Talked to him some. Little old private. Course they give him some medals one time and made him a meritorious promotion to lance corporal. Jumped him two grades all at once. He was machinegunned too. Only he was shot all through the body. Kept having leaks inside of him. They’d sew up one and it would last a while and then another one would bust and they’d rush him down to surgery and sew it up. He hovered between life and death for three weeks before they brought him up here. He said his insides was about like a old bicycle innertube. Shit blood all the time. They kept him high was the only way he could stand it. Would come over here and pull his wheelchair up beside my bed and do card tricks. And would juggle, too. He come over here one night and we got to drinking beer and he got about half drunk and started juggling three Budweiser bottles and kept them going a while. He was from Port Angeles, Washington, and he would have been twenty if he’d lived one more day. Lance Corporal John Davis Williams, USMC. Semper fi, bro.
They come on down with my breakfast. Every morning I have me three over easy with two sausage patties and two strips of bacon and one piece of country ham, and two orders of homefries with just a little ketchup and two glasses of milk and one OJ. Don’t let em try to give me no coffee. Done been burnt too many times. Could probably let it cool off and sip it with a straw. But they ain’t got time for that shit.
I waited until they fed me and then I told him to go on and tell me what he was fixing to tell me cause it wasn’t gonna be long before they come in here to mop the floor and stuff and change sheets.
I told him I knew he was scared and everything and it was a strange place for him to wake up in but everything would be all right and would be even more all right when dark come. I told him to talk to me. I told him I knew where he was coming from.
“W ell, hell. I might as well. Her name’s Beth. It was raining, I know that. It just had started. I’ll just tell you what happened from the start. My daddy died about six months ago. I think I told you we used to farm. I started picking cotton when I was six years old. Back in the old days. You remember them old days? Back when they paid two cents a pound? Hell, you know how it was, you’re from down there in the Delta. It’s flat, ain’t it? We’re up in the hills. It’s a lot different, I guess. The ground ain’t as good. We haven’t got two hundred million years of dinosaur shit up there.
“I don’t usually talk this much. I usually don’t haveanybody to talk to. I’ve got a lot of books. I’m a big reader. Plus I like movies. That’s about all I do, read and watch movies. When I’m not passed out.
“He was pretty bad to drink. Hell, I’m pretty bad to drink myself. That’s probably why I’m in here, drinking too much. I have these seizures more often if I’m drinking. I can’t hardly get through it straight, though.”
I thought for a while they might send me down to prison and I remembered wondering if they’d let me stay in the same cell with him. I mean for stabbing Matt Monroe. I kept wondering if they’d have a uniform with stripes in my size.
Finally they didn’t do anything to me. Matt didn’t come close to dying or anything. By about an inch. I guess if I’d killed him they’d have had to do something with me, but I don’t know what. I guess they could have waited until I got grown and then sent me off.
But even with the way things happened, I imagine my mama would have shot the first son of a bitch who stepped in our yard to get me.
“Hell, they’ve been talking about maybe doing an operation on me for a long time. I don’t know how many times I’ve passed out. A bunch. At one time I kept up with it. I had a logbook. How long I stayed awake, what
Talked to him some. Little old private. Course they give him some medals one time and made him a meritorious promotion to lance corporal. Jumped him two grades all at once. He was machinegunned too. Only he was shot all through the body. Kept having leaks inside of him. They’d sew up one and it would last a while and then another one would bust and they’d rush him down to surgery and sew it up. He hovered between life and death for three weeks before they brought him up here. He said his insides was about like a old bicycle innertube. Shit blood all the time. They kept him high was the only way he could stand it. Would come over here and pull his wheelchair up beside my bed and do card tricks. And would juggle, too. He come over here one night and we got to drinking beer and he got about half drunk and started juggling three Budweiser bottles and kept them going a while. He was from Port Angeles, Washington, and he would have been twenty if he’d lived one more day. Lance Corporal John Davis Williams, USMC. Semper fi, bro.
They come on down with my breakfast. Every morning I have me three over easy with two sausage patties and two strips of bacon and one piece of country ham, and two orders of homefries with just a little ketchup and two glasses of milk and one OJ. Don’t let em try to give me no coffee. Done been burnt too many times. Could probably let it cool off and sip it with a straw. But they ain’t got time for that shit.
I waited until they fed me and then I told him to go on and tell me what he was fixing to tell me cause it wasn’t gonna be long before they come in here to mop the floor and stuff and change sheets.
I told him I knew he was scared and everything and it was a strange place for him to wake up in but everything would be all right and would be even more all right when dark come. I told him to talk to me. I told him I knew where he was coming from.
“W ell, hell. I might as well. Her name’s Beth. It was raining, I know that. It just had started. I’ll just tell you what happened from the start. My daddy died about six months ago. I think I told you we used to farm. I started picking cotton when I was six years old. Back in the old days. You remember them old days? Back when they paid two cents a pound? Hell, you know how it was, you’re from down there in the Delta. It’s flat, ain’t it? We’re up in the hills. It’s a lot different, I guess. The ground ain’t as good. We haven’t got two hundred million years of dinosaur shit up there.
“I don’t usually talk this much. I usually don’t haveanybody to talk to. I’ve got a lot of books. I’m a big reader. Plus I like movies. That’s about all I do, read and watch movies. When I’m not passed out.
“He was pretty bad to drink. Hell, I’m pretty bad to drink myself. That’s probably why I’m in here, drinking too much. I have these seizures more often if I’m drinking. I can’t hardly get through it straight, though.”
I thought for a while they might send me down to prison and I remembered wondering if they’d let me stay in the same cell with him. I mean for stabbing Matt Monroe. I kept wondering if they’d have a uniform with stripes in my size.
Finally they didn’t do anything to me. Matt didn’t come close to dying or anything. By about an inch. I guess if I’d killed him they’d have had to do something with me, but I don’t know what. I guess they could have waited until I got grown and then sent me off.
But even with the way things happened, I imagine my mama would have shot the first son of a bitch who stepped in our yard to get me.
“Hell, they’ve been talking about maybe doing an operation on me for a long time. I don’t know how many times I’ve passed out. A bunch. At one time I kept up with it. I had a logbook. How long I stayed awake, what
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