“Is that so?” I said as the bartender slid my hot and cheesy pizza toward me.
“I know what the ‘R’ in Joey R. Czerinski stands for, but it’s top secret, and I’d have to kill you if I told you. Then, I’d have to kill myself, and several possible witnesses at this bar, in that order.”
“The ‘R’ is classified?”
“Exactly. It’s to prevent identity theft.”
Corporal Wayne, a large spider legionnaire, squeezed between us at the bar to order a pitcher of beer. Sergeant Hill gave Corporal Wayne a sour face, sliding his drink away to make room. He gestured at Wayne. “Politicians should never have let those damn spiders into the Legion. It dilutes Legion integrity and morale to stoop to such an abomination just to make recruitment quotas.”
“Sergeant, would you please hold up one of those lethal fists of fury?” asked Corporal Wayne, stoic as ever. “I’ve never been in the presence of such heroic human pestilence hands.”
Sergeant Hill immediately showed off his mighty right fist of fury. With one swipe, Corporal Wayne deftly sliced off the hand at the wrist. It plopped onto my pizza.
“Sorry about your dinner, sir,” said Corporal Wayne contritely. “I’ll buy you another pizza.”
“Damn right you will!” I replied, picking up the hand and dipping it in Wayne’s pitcher of beer to wash it off. I placed the hand on my communications pad for a scan. Surprise, surprise. “I see no record of you ever serving in the Legion.”
“I just retired,” Hill screamed, writhing in pain on the floor, clutching his bloody stump. “I did extensive work for the CIA. My records are sealed to protect my family from terrorist retaliation. My whole career is classified!”
“Classified as bullshit,” I commented, removing his Hero of the Legion Medal. “I don’t need to get hit in the face with bullshit to smell bullshit. Do you want your hand back for a souvenir?”
“Medic! I need medical attention!”
Medic Elena Ceausescu staggered from the dance floor to render first aid. “That’s got to hurt,” she slurred.
“Please, do something!”
We dragged Hill to the pizza oven, where the wound was properly cauterized by pressing it against the searing grill. Medic Ceausescu poured beer over the sizzling stump and sealed it with duct tape. Ha! Another use for duct tape. Hill was in and out of consciousness, probably in shock. I slapped Hill awake to be interrogated.
“Admit you’ve never been in the Legion,” I demanded, “and you might live past today.”
“I’ve never been in the Legion!”
“Stolen valor is a capital offense,” I continued grimly. “Fortunately for you, the Legion faces recruitment quota shortages. You quality for the infantry, for which there is a never-ending demand. I am drafting you into the United States Galactic Federation Foreign Legion.”
“Does that mean I can still get free beer?”
“No, but the Legion has a great medical plan. You will be fitted for a new metal hand.”
“I want my old hand.”
“Too bad, so sad. After discharge from the infirmary, you will report to Corporal Guido Tonelli at the main border crossing gate. It will be the most intensive two hours of Legion orientation the galaxy has to offer. Make something of your sorry self. I’ll be watching you.”
* * * * *
Corporal Tonelli was busy on the phone. He told Private Hill to go outside and wave traffic through, and to stay out of trouble. Under no circumstances was Private Hill to cross the yellow line painted on the ground north of the guard shack.
Bored, Private Hill walked boldly to the yellow line. So that’s the Empire, he mused. Private Hill lifted his foot, extending it defiantly in the air just across the line. Nothing happened. Talk about living life on the edge! He dared the spiders to confront his trespass.
The spider guard in the opposite guard shack continued reading his paper and talking on the phone to Corporal Tonelli. Emboldened, Private Hill placed his foot on the ground across the yellow line. His last act of defiance activated a mini-laser landmine. The explosion blew off a piece of Private Hill’s foot. Startled, Corporal Tonelli and the spider guard rushed to investigate.
“What the hell, Guido?” asked the spider guard, already pushing a broom to sweep bloody boot and bone fragments back across the yellow line. “I’m sick and tired of always having to clean up your mess!”
“I can’t fix stupid,” Corporal Tonelli said with a shrug as he dragged Private Hill back to the guard shack and America. “Fortunately, the Legion can fix your foot. You’ll be okay when the pain stops.”
“Do I get a real Purple Heart for this?” asked Private Hill, dreaming of glory and free beer.
“No.”
* * * * *
They say the first one hundred sixty years of childhood are the hardest. Whoever ‘they’ is, I’m going to kick their ass. Life had better get easier as my Fountain of Youth chips get older. I’m in for the duration. The Legion promised an upgrade. It’s guaranteed in my enlistment contract.
I like to think I’ve made a difference. Legionnaires make a difference where ever they go, and I’ve been across the galaxy, so I know I’ve made a difference, except when I didn’t. America is bigger than me or any legionnaire, so the galaxy is safe. God bless America.
###
ZOMBIE MISSOURI
The zombies are coming, the zombies are coming!
Great googly giant balls of string, they’re already here.
Oh, crap. Grab the cat food.
Run!
Dig into some bloody good dead humor.
Buy it.
Read it.
Do it now.
~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
Walter Knight played football on Tucson High School’s last state championship team (1971). He served three years in the army, and the GI Bill paid for his college education, helping him earn degrees from Fort Steilacoom Community College, Central Washington State College, and the University of Puget Sound School of Law.
Walter lives a very quiet and private life, residing with his family and horses, dogs, cats, and fish atop a hill in rural Washington. Walt enjoys taking road trips to explore ghost towns and casinos.
To find out more about the author and his books, visit his web site.
www.waltknight.yolasite.com
~TABLE OF CONTENTS~
Story Summary
Copyright Information
Books by the Author
Author Acknowledgement
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
About the Author
Table of Contents
America's Galactic Foreign Legion - Book 22: Blue Powder War Page 14