Post by Chris North on Nov 3, 2015 23:27:27 GMT -6
As we approach Veteran’s day and close the book upon another day of the dead there are still lingering thoughts upon my brain that I don’t quite understand. You know, perhaps I never will, but maybe one day when I stand in front of the boss man after he’s punched my time card and called the project that is my life to a close I will gain a small inkling of an understanding about the thoughts. For example why is it that man can die for his country at eighteen but he can’t enjoy a beer? Or perhaps what good is war all together? You know simple questions. However, maybe I’ll never understand them or perhaps maybe I don’t want to understand them. Perhaps I don’t want to understand how a man can have a confessional and yet still be enthralled with the sins of the flesh. Perhaps, I even don’t care to think of how a man can claim to provide love and guidance for a group of lost souls, but instead lead them to damnation. All of these are items I can’t quite explain nor will I ever try. However, the number one thing I do know as I prepare to come to you for yet another intimate session is that I want to go out all twenty- one guns blazing and a hell of an amen upon my lips. I don’t want anyone to remember the things that hurt but instead remember the times I made them laugh. For those of you preparing to watch this I hope it makes you laugh and feel a little better about yourself and for those of you who are offended by partial nudity and stupidity I suggest you turn back now..
“Clank, Click, CRACK!”
The familiar sounds of another round through the steel chamber of a rifle fills the air on this brisk November morning.
“Clank, Click, CRACK”
Again the sound of a round slicing through the morning air fills the air followed by a moment of silence broken only by the sound of a bugle as it plays another soldier taken too soon from us to his final resting place. Slowly a band of uniformed brothers pull the flag from the golden brown coffin and begin to fold it into a triangle shape as another band of brothers begin to line up one by one. As each man passes by the coffin they slap a pin upon the top and hug the now sobbing young blonde wife wishing her well and assuring her that they are always there for her. Soon this same women is handed a folded flag and the casket is lowered into the ground. I stood there upon the top of the hill that day watching the events quietly, with a somber respect for what was going on in front of my eyes. The wind quietly whipped around the tail of my black trench coat wrapping it around my dew soaked feet. Silently my eyes towards the sky I stood my mind empty as I watched them lower another brave soul into the ground. Another life taken too soon at the hands of an enemy. The wife’s last goodbye, the daughter’s last touch, and a mom’s last amen. All of this almost was too surreal as I stood there waiting upon the group to leave before I journied amongst the stones.
For you see I knew that it would be just a few days before I myself had a fight to fight. Some would say it was “the good fight” however, I knew that it was just business. I knew that the man I was to do battle with was actually one of the most hated men in the entire company. I also knew that he had a lust for the sins of the flesh. I mean let’s be honest here the guy basically had a threesome the last time we saw him.
Many have told me that Cole Hunter is not the man to mess with. Some have said that he’s as unstable as a barrel full of monkies rolling down hill into a cart of nitro. Personally I couldn’t think of better time myself. As I treaded upon the hallow grounds where many legends who have gone before me now lie I watched from the corner of my eye as one by one the crosses passed by me. Each one very much the same and yet, each one so very different. Every person who now called this place their final resting point had all had the same goal in mind. Everyone of them black, white, hispanic, or even a mix had fought side by side as a family to protect the very life, liberty, and happiness that we all enjoy today.
However, the more I walked and the more my mind raced the more I couldn’t help but recollect upon the events of the week prior. My loss to Amy Zing, the rise of the masses against the few and the total disregard for common manners displayed by my opponent. I had to wonder in my mind as I stopped and stared at a marker bearing the date 02-14-1881 if my opponent had any hint of common sense. I had to wonder if his mind were clear or if it had become clouded by the sins of the flesh that now burdened him.
You see as I stood there and peered down against the sun’s glare off the pure white cross I couldn’t help but feel sorry. Not for the actions of Mr. Hunter, but simply for the consequences that his actions held. For you see he had called each an everyone of us a bladder full of hot air wait expulsion, but what he had forgotten is that crow when served right is a very tough dish to swallow. For you see, he was actually left to look as a bladder full of hot air. When last we seen him the man looked as if he was nothing more than a shell of a person.
Cole Hunter you see is a very, very disheartened soul who lives upon the sins of the flesh to harvest the fruit of the soul. However, the fruit that he harvests and will continue to harvest will always be poor and often times rotten. A simple thought if you will, but yet one that in and of itsself is very complex. As my tour reached its end that day a brief smile crossed my face as I knew that a little cancer couldn’t beat me.
I knew that, while deadly the cancer and will be defeated. While sneaky, and conniving the theif in the night can be caught and his reign of terror ended. I knew that in a few short days the hunter will become the hunted as the predator becomes the prey. What I did not know though is what role I would play. Would I be the hunter? Would I be the prey? Only time would tell. As I turned to give the hallowed grounds one final look a soft smile crossed my face as I whispered..
“Rest Well My Friends, go in peace and freedom.”
As I turned and walked away that day I had to wonder if Cole Hunter was ready and for that matter was I?
“Clank, Click, CRACK!”
The familiar sounds of another round through the steel chamber of a rifle fills the air on this brisk November morning.
“Clank, Click, CRACK”
Again the sound of a round slicing through the morning air fills the air followed by a moment of silence broken only by the sound of a bugle as it plays another soldier taken too soon from us to his final resting place. Slowly a band of uniformed brothers pull the flag from the golden brown coffin and begin to fold it into a triangle shape as another band of brothers begin to line up one by one. As each man passes by the coffin they slap a pin upon the top and hug the now sobbing young blonde wife wishing her well and assuring her that they are always there for her. Soon this same women is handed a folded flag and the casket is lowered into the ground. I stood there upon the top of the hill that day watching the events quietly, with a somber respect for what was going on in front of my eyes. The wind quietly whipped around the tail of my black trench coat wrapping it around my dew soaked feet. Silently my eyes towards the sky I stood my mind empty as I watched them lower another brave soul into the ground. Another life taken too soon at the hands of an enemy. The wife’s last goodbye, the daughter’s last touch, and a mom’s last amen. All of this almost was too surreal as I stood there waiting upon the group to leave before I journied amongst the stones.
For you see I knew that it would be just a few days before I myself had a fight to fight. Some would say it was “the good fight” however, I knew that it was just business. I knew that the man I was to do battle with was actually one of the most hated men in the entire company. I also knew that he had a lust for the sins of the flesh. I mean let’s be honest here the guy basically had a threesome the last time we saw him.
Many have told me that Cole Hunter is not the man to mess with. Some have said that he’s as unstable as a barrel full of monkies rolling down hill into a cart of nitro. Personally I couldn’t think of better time myself. As I treaded upon the hallow grounds where many legends who have gone before me now lie I watched from the corner of my eye as one by one the crosses passed by me. Each one very much the same and yet, each one so very different. Every person who now called this place their final resting point had all had the same goal in mind. Everyone of them black, white, hispanic, or even a mix had fought side by side as a family to protect the very life, liberty, and happiness that we all enjoy today.
However, the more I walked and the more my mind raced the more I couldn’t help but recollect upon the events of the week prior. My loss to Amy Zing, the rise of the masses against the few and the total disregard for common manners displayed by my opponent. I had to wonder in my mind as I stopped and stared at a marker bearing the date 02-14-1881 if my opponent had any hint of common sense. I had to wonder if his mind were clear or if it had become clouded by the sins of the flesh that now burdened him.
You see as I stood there and peered down against the sun’s glare off the pure white cross I couldn’t help but feel sorry. Not for the actions of Mr. Hunter, but simply for the consequences that his actions held. For you see he had called each an everyone of us a bladder full of hot air wait expulsion, but what he had forgotten is that crow when served right is a very tough dish to swallow. For you see, he was actually left to look as a bladder full of hot air. When last we seen him the man looked as if he was nothing more than a shell of a person.
Cole Hunter you see is a very, very disheartened soul who lives upon the sins of the flesh to harvest the fruit of the soul. However, the fruit that he harvests and will continue to harvest will always be poor and often times rotten. A simple thought if you will, but yet one that in and of itsself is very complex. As my tour reached its end that day a brief smile crossed my face as I knew that a little cancer couldn’t beat me.
I knew that, while deadly the cancer and will be defeated. While sneaky, and conniving the theif in the night can be caught and his reign of terror ended. I knew that in a few short days the hunter will become the hunted as the predator becomes the prey. What I did not know though is what role I would play. Would I be the hunter? Would I be the prey? Only time would tell. As I turned to give the hallowed grounds one final look a soft smile crossed my face as I whispered..
“Rest Well My Friends, go in peace and freedom.”
As I turned and walked away that day I had to wonder if Cole Hunter was ready and for that matter was I?