Well, that was as far as I got. Why? Because Mr. Taliban Man decided that he was going to throw a few mortars or rockets or whatever the fuck at me. That was fun.
So we had to do the whole, put your gear on, get in the bunker and sit there while the artillery fires away. And the helicopters fly around looking for whatever helicopters look for.
We passed the time in the bunker by singing, “I will survive!” I guess it just seemed fitting at the time. I was a little pissed off by the whole thing because this is one of the few, wait its the only mortar or rocket attack I have been in where the damn things actually landed close. And by close I mean like at least 200 meters. Enough to rattle my balls, but not enough to pucker the butt. So it was at least a little bit interesting.
I almost caught an ass chewing though. When it first started, we all did the usual and pretended that it was outgoing so we could stay horizontal in our bunks. Then a couple of them got close enough to rattle the tent walls and we had to go outside. Granted, we didn’t go to the bunkers...yet!
We all figured that if these things were landing close enough to rattle the tent then this is probably quite a show. We went outside and crawled up on the cement barriers that are in front of our tents to get a better look.
So, imagine if you will, an entire platoon of dipshits milling around looking for the highest point they can find, so that they can watch the incoming mortar attack! Oh, fuck yeah, we’ve got some real brain children around here.
Then a Master Sergeant came out and saw me and promptly pointed at the ground, and then the bunker. I got the hint. And moved my ass. Then we sat there and sang songs and smoked cigarettes until the ‘all clear’ came. And now back to our regularly scheduled....
Program. So I went over to Subway for lunch today. And like I said, they don’t hire the usual slacker, stoner kid from high school who just works enough to buy his quarter ounce for the weekend. They have to hire foreign nationals from a million different countries. I have no idea what country this particular guy is from but its definitely something Oriental.
Now the rest of this story I will tell in the following manner. Any text written in the standard typeface is what was actually said and happened. Any italicized text is what I was thinking.
So here we go...
I step up to the window and say, “I’d like a foot long meatball sub on white bread please.”
The guy says, “Okay sir, footlong sub with balls.”
My brain starts to spin. “Did he or did he not just say a foot long sub with balls.”
Well, he pulls out a foot of white bread and starts to microwave some meatballs, so I just figure my ears are clogged with suck and I forget about it.
Now he gets done microwaving my balls and puts them on the bread.
He says, “Okay sir, would you like double balls?”
Alright, now I know he just asked me if I would like twice as many balls. Well, hell no there cochese. I would rather not have double balls. The two I already have are working just fine!
I reply, “No thanks.”
He asks, “Okay sir, no double balls, would you like some extra sauce on your balls?”
Oh fuck yeah I do. What red blooded American male wouldn’t want a little extra sauce on his balls. I mean if you are gonna eat balls they may as well be saucy.
I reply, “Yes please.”
He continues, “Okay sir, no double balls, extra sauce on your balls, okay!”
By now I am having a particularly hard time maintaining my composure because apparently I have now ordered a sandwich full of balls from a strange little Oriental man. And there is just no way that my juvenile sense of humor will allow me to not laugh at this. So I am sitting there pressing my lips together trying to stifle the laughter that slips out every 4 to 5 seconds as this guy is making my sandwich. He notices my dilemma and...
Says, “Oh sir. You have dirty mind. Oh yes you do. Okay sir, on your balls what kind of vegetables would you like on your balls?”
Now this is a great question. I have never once considered exactly what kind of vegetables I would put on my balls if given the chance. Now here, the opportunity has presented itself and I have no idea as to what kind of vegetables I would put on my balls. So I say...
“Whatever kind of vegetables she likes there pal.”
He freezes for a moment, then looks up at me and says, “Oh dirty mind, dirty mind. Okay, so sir what kind of cheese would you like on your balls?”
And with that I lose all sense of propriety and military bearing and I double over at the waist laughing. This guy just asked me what kind of cheese I want on my balls. I cannot believe this is happening. This is the funniest sandwich EVER!!!
Then the strangest thing crossed my mind. “Hey, this is Afghanistan in the summertime. Its 105 degrees, 1200 hours, and I have been working since 0800. I’ve got more cheese on my balls than any human male should ever have to deal with.” Oh wait, he’s not talking about that kind of cheese. Okay...
“Yeah, how about you throw a little American cheese on there pal!”
“Okay sir, American cheese on your balls.” (Muffled laughter.) “Will that be all on your balls sir?”
I reply between bouts of uncontrollable laughter, “Yeah, that’s all for my balls.”
“Okay sir, that’s one foot long ball sandwich. That’ll be 6 dollars for your balls sir.”
Hey fucko, my balls are worth a lot more than 6 bucks!
“Alright, here you go.”
“Thank you sir, enjoy your balls!”
I always have, and I always will!
And with that I walked away to enjoy my ball sandwich.
And with that I am also done.
I love you Mom...
Definition of a Veteran:
A Veteran - whether active duty, retired, national guard, or reserve - is someone who, at one point in his or her life, wrote a blank check made payable to “The United States of America,” for an amount of “up to and including my life.”
That is true honor and courage, and there are way too many people in this country who don’t understand that anymore.