War of the Flesh

First time taking a round is like poppin’ your cherry sophomore year with Sharon What’s-her-name in the back of dad’s clunker. A lot of blind, awkward fondling at first; writhing like a fish out of water, heaving heavy for oxygen. You start cussing like a sailor and talking hard to cover the anxiety and restore confidence that everything’s okay. After that it’s best to just start plugging holes.

Within a few winks, it’s over.

The world returns to normal.

Except now you’ve got it out of the way.

Clean up the mess.


A selection from a war-theme short story.

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