Lost

Tom came running around the corner of the building and into the alley. He looked around and ducked behind the dumpster placing a busted up box in front of him to try and hide. He knew they were coming, probably four of them. He didn’t have any weapons but he was a marine, he would ambush them and fight like a man. Suddenly, a voice yelled at him from behind him, “Get the fuck off of me and my house, asshole!” Tom looked at him and replied “Sorry man, you must be in country for some time. Look at you, you fit right in, scruffy, dirty and Jesus you smell.” “What?” said the man. Tom looked around, “Got any weapons? I’ve got at least four insurgents following me and I need something to kill ‘em.” “Matter of fact, we can do it together. Wait for the first two to pass us, you jump the second one, use his weapon to kill the first one, then kill that guy. I will jump the third one, killing him and the fourth. Got it?” Then he saw a tin can lid. He grabbed it off the ground and rubbed it against the dumpster to try and sharpen it. “You can use this, slice his throat and shoot the first one.” The man pushed him away and out into the alley, “Get the fuck outta here. You’re fuckin’ nuts!” Tom looked at him with a puzzled face. “Fine, fuck you too! Wait till I get back to base, you’re screwed.” Tom turned and ran to the corner of the building, he looked both ways. He only saw civilians. He hunched down and made a right down the sidewalk. He thought to himself, “I’ll find someone to point me in the right direction back to the base. Fallujah is so fucking crazy.” He looked up at the street sign; he was on the corner of Hudson and Perry. He thought, “We have that same corner back in New York. I can’t wait to get back there.” He disappeared into the crowd on the street.

To all of the soldiers who come home with just a little less then what they left with. May you somehow find peace.