It’s October 3rd. I’m not yet old enough to drink and I’m holding a small kitten and telling a joke about sucking a dog’s dick. Everyone laughs and a few of us choke on the smoke. I take my glove off and lay it over the kitten’s head hoping that makes it a little bit easier to breathe. He’s nestled into the crook of my arm, getting red fur on what I called my bad guy suit. It’s what I wear over my bad guy arms when I go out to do bad guy things. This was a bad guy night. Every night was a bad guy night. Out of the corner of my eye I notice a senior officer staring at me. He’d ordered me to leave the kitten alone, and I’d ignored him. I continue to ignore him and breathe deeply through a scarf wrapped around my mouth. The scarf is black with a bible verse printed on it in white. The scripture is great for filtering dust and the smell of burning garbage. The officer will kill the kitten if I let him. I wonder if he’s as big an asshole in America as he is here. It’s 2 am and we are surrounded by fire and twisted metal and bodies. I imagine that if there’s a hell, it might be a nice break from this. I carry my kitten a few yards through worse-than-hell to another soldier and ask him if he’d let a man suck his dick on the 50 yard line at the super bowl for a million dollars. We haggle.
In four hours the kitten is dead and I’m holding the hand of my friend and roommate, Jacob.
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