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Published by Mike Dietzel
Flashbacks of Vietnam and the return of ex-wife from hell.
Flashbacks of Vietnam and the return of ex-wife from hell.

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Published by: Mike Dietzel on Nov 20, 2012
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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***** PART II:******
Is that all there is?The Death of Billy PilgrimVonnegut.
We are given a break since our first outing was training mission, and then it's sixmonths in country.Meaning we will be stuck in the jungle, the villages, the fields, rice paddies for six months so that we become a well-oiled fighting machine. “Chow is now down for Marine Corp personal.” The voice comes over our loudspeaker as strangely our food ismuch better than one would imagine being stuck in a jungle, a swamp I called CommieDisneyland.After chow, we go back to our bunks and smoke, drink and start hunting for lettersfrom home.I see a strange letter with postage stamps from France. Who the hell in France iswriting me a letter?Wait, I found myself remembering that my lucky as cousin the Mormon had sent meletters and pictures of how cushy he had it. Yes, that cousin of mine Ricky Monaco, aMormon convert weaseled his way out being drafted to go to a missionary mission infriggin France. He mentioned that his roommate was Mitt Romney. Mitt's real name isWillard. What a bunch of squares, young Republicans and Mormons are like an insurancesalesman, boring and looking for angle to bamboozle you into signing on the dottedline. It sure was the right place and right time for Ricky and Mitt. 
2It was strange; I had a friend who was Mormon, and he never clued me in how theMormons avoided the draft, but then again. Bob Tanger, as a Mormon my have beenexpelled or excommunicated by then, as he became a smoker and a lover of a wildKorean exchange student, high-school girl who majored in being a tramp. This of course the down and dirty fun life leads him far away from that strict code of Mormontheology and boredom. Yep, I have all those letters stuck in a journal, I never thought they may be worth anything. It is strange, but I can remember almost allthose banal letters from home, although at the time any letter brought a little smilethat somewhere in the world, someone remembers me. 
“Hi Cousin,I am here in France working my tail off trying to get these strange peopleto accept the Truth and light. Mitt Romney is our leader, and he is trying to keep upour spirits. To be honest, we haven't made a single convert, yet. We stuck here sharing a toilet, and it is really tough going, although the food is good, the peopleare mean spirited. Most of them don't even believe in God. We are trying. but most of these French commies slam the door in our faces and swear in French. The French just drink wine, smoke and complain. They really hate Americans.Hope are you doing good Coz and stay safe.Hang in there, Ricky”
 I keep the letter just for grins and stash it with the rest. I mutter tomyself, next time those Mormons come to my door; I am going to join up since it hasto be better than this crap. My cousin was one lucky bastard; he got the best toys,as a kid and could con my Grandfather out money to get a car.I can still remember the radio-controlled boat and toys all from Marshall Fields piled up for that turd.Just as my mind was flooding back to childhood, I heard the nurse step in order tocheck my stats.Oh yes, I am not dead yet. Just laying in limbo. Even though I am paralyzed, I canstill see, but I can't move a muscle or talk to inform them that I think I have been poisoned.The nurse scans the information into her tablet and looks up as another older nurse comes in.Did his kids ever come back? We need to find out about if he has a DNR and get this all this wrappedup?" Damn those kids, just unplug me and let me go. They don't care they are just too lazy to try to findmy Will. Those idiots.I try to blink, next I attempt of moving my fingers. Nothing that I can tell.
3“Get those kids on the phone and make sure they bring in the documentation.”I want to shout those idiots are most likely out with their friends; my daughter will be at the pool getting a tan, and my son will likely be hung over from a nightof drinking.Both nurses now walk out and left back to let my mind float downstream, upstreamfrom past to present. Just as I was slipping away, I hear footsteps, narrow and tinysteps creeping toward my room. My eyelids are stuck open, so I can see. Damn it is myex-wife carrying some papers. That bitch is most likely here to gloat. I figured itout, she will claim that she is still in the Will.Her skinny body is peering it at me, and she thinks I am near death. I see her smirk; she is such a evil, con-artist, that I am hoping that I can get out of thisfriggin bed and scare her to death. Come on Jesus, one break to get even with her.Get me out of this bed to put the fear of god in her.Hey God, she emptied my checking account, forged documents to get a loan using myname, cheated then ran off with some younger idiot. Now has come back to try to takethe pennies off my grave.I can see her in her cheap dyed blonde hair, broken Roman nose staring down at me.She is decked out in her skinny jeans and top that tries to make her C-cups bigger,most likely she will try and sweet talk the staff for information on my status andclaim we are still married.She never did her homework, as my life insurance wasdropped, when I lost my job. I had to cut down and figured, that if I am dead, thelife insurance was only going to help the kids lie around the house even more thanthey do now. My nurse comes in while my ex-wife, Tara is sniffing around to run another of her scams.Tara now puts on her actress face and turns to the nurse. “This is my Husband, andI was out of town, do you have a status on his condition?” The bitch puts on a sadface which is totally fake, but the nurse most likely be conned. She turns to my ex-wife, and states the obvious, “Well. It doesn't look good, no movements, but hisvitals are still solid.” Now, I am pissed and want to scream:“SHE IS NOT MY WIFE; SHE IS MY EX-WIFE AND A CON-ARTIST.”Tara now staggers up to the nurse, as she always has a snoot full of her morningcups of Vodka and smiles. “Could you please give a status on my dear husband.”The nurse now turns and sadly says. “He hasn't made any progress yet, and we arewondering if you have his documentation on his final wishes.”Tara now staggers up to the nurse, as she always has a snoot full of her morningcups of Vodka and smiles. “Could you please give a status on my dear husband.”

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