The Few, The Proud

When I was a boy, my mother told me I could be anything I wanted to be.  That was just one of the things she and my father argued about.  Don’t misunderstand, I don’t come from a broken home: far from it.  Growing up as a military brat, most people would’ve killed to lead the life I had.  Turned out, I had to kill to get out of it.

My father was career military, as was his father before him.  He always assumed I would follow in his footsteps.  I never could stand to disappoint my father, which was ironic because as it turned out, I was quite adept at it.  He didn’t say so in so many words.  In some ways, I wish he had.

I was an exceptional child.  Or so everyone but my father told me.  And when I did inevitably ship out for basic training, I learned something about myself I never would have guessed: in no area did I excel more than that of taking another human life.

My father was a true patriot.  I paid lip service to the red, white and blue for as long as I could stand it, but it didn’t take me long to realize that military was not my true calling.

Fury of Solace
Doing evil so you don’t have to
Somewhere in Los Angeles

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