The Scar 5

I've never written anything like this. I had the idea some time ago, and put down a sketchy outline, then left it for a few years. I got to thinking about it a week or so ago and suddenly powered through it in the last day or two. I don't really know what category to put it in, my first though was 'non-erotic' but there are vague descriptions of several sex acts, so that's out. Sci-fi might be one idea, but not a good one. It seems too short to put in 'Novels', but perhaps 'Humor and Satire' might fit. Except that not all of it is funny. Behind the whole idea is something that marked the narrator, both mentally and physically, and he doesn't want to talk about.

I self edited so there are mistakes, if you can't stand that, don't read it. And as for tags, I could do better and should have, but I just had fun with them instead.

This story contains wildly improbably tales of fictional events that mix equipment, people, places and wars from different eras. Insensitive nicknames for people from another nation, insensitivity, a maladjusted sense of humor, denigration of the fraternity and sorority system, cruelty to animals, the use of fictional names from comics, TV, and possibly other sources, and many other offensive subjects. You probably shouldn't read this. If you do, you'll probably want to 'one-bomb' the story, and that might be the best thing you should do. I only check comments and my email for feedback every five or six months, so don't expect a response. My advice is to not read this.

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I guess the stories started in college. I was older than most the other people in my class, having spent eight years in the Army before deciding to get out while I was still alive and unmaimed. I don't regret my time in the Army, and for a while I thought about a career in it, hence the re-up after the first four years.

As for the stories, they started one day at the U of I, a year or so after my ETS (End of Time in the Service -- or something like that.) I was in the snack bar at the main library. The Student Union had pretty much been replaced by the study and snack areas, and small lounges and meeting rooms in the main library. It was also closer to the sprawling campus and had better parking.

There were five of us sitting around in a huddle room, all in the same class. Later on as I progressed through my undergraduate years and then in grad school the mix of those I socialized with changed. Although some of the same faces stayed around, or went missing then reappeared later.

The first time anyone asked about my scar was early on. It was a guy, apparently he'd been a football jock for a couple of years, second string, but still an athlete. He'd been in the informal study group for the class. But we were relaxing then, and some were talking about what to do for entertainment over the coming weekend.

Then the Jock guy asked the question.

"How'd you get that scar on your face?"

The others looked horrified, or surprised, or embarrassed. The two sorority blonds with Jock guy looked back and forth between him and me. There was another girl, light brown hair and startlingly blue eyes, medium tits and loose fitting and comfortable clothes. She went red in the face, I could see she was working herself up to tell off Jock guy for saying it. She really had magic in those blue eyes. I knew then that I would never forget them.

I liked that girl, just hadn't said anything or made any move or anything, at least at that point, but that's another story.

I thought about getting that scar. But they were too young, too naive, too innocent to tell about it. So I made a story up. A whopper of a tale. I grinned to myself before I let the words out. This would teach them to ask me again.

"It happened in Afghanistan. Oh nothing heroic, just a stupid accident. I was riding this billy goat in an impromptu jousting session, the other guy was on on a donkey, so you know it was unfair, but that's the luck of the draw, am I right? I wasn't the best rider, but not the worst. But I knew this wouldn't take me long, after all I was new at it. I expected to get knocked ass over teakettle on the first pass. But I knocked that fucking hairy wolf man, Vince Marcus, off his donkey.

"So I won that heat, and figured if I had to go again I'd get the mangy burro, but no, I got the goat again, and this time I was up against the guy who knocked Sergeant Fury off his goat. Shitfire. So I had to go again, but when I went to saddle up, fucking Dum-Dum grabbed the donkey first, so I had to take the goat again. Fucking animal eyed me like he wanted me to eat shit and die. The goat didn't like me much either.

"The fucking thing is that when I knocked Corporal Dugan off his steed, that fucking imbedded journalist, Eric Koenig demanded that he wanted to go against me. I waxed his ass, but it was fucking hot and my steed was not only tired, but pissed off. So when I tried to dismount that gods cursed goat, he reared up and arched its back just as I leaned forward, and one of his thrice cursed horns caught me.

"At least I didn't have to go again, I would have had to go up against a warrant officer from the Motor Pool, Andy Micklin, he was a mean SOB in normal life, and watching him take out everyone he went up against didn't give me any hope. He was knocking them down with a vengeance."

"What happened then, you were cut, and probably pretty deep."

"Yeah, they took me to aid tent were they'd been taking all of Micklin's victims. Cute nurse took care of me, an L.T. - Lieutenant, Carrie Holden. Nice lady."

Jock guy just stared, stupefied. I think he believed it. Everyone else had their eyes wide open for a second, then just grinned. The brown haired girl with the magic blue eyes that I liked, looked sort of sick. I guess she believed it too. I was going to have to talk to her some time soon, but maybe not right now. Then she got it. She gave me one of those looks, like, 'oh you smart-ass'. And then smiled.

She more than smiled, she grinned. It made her face light up.

Finally one of the sorority blonds started giggling. Jock guy looked sort of confused and swung his head back and forth as everyone else let out air or just giggled or chuckled. He finally gave a half hearted chuckle. I hoped someone would explain it to him.

Me, it was time for me to head to my part time job, so I gathered up my things, stuffed them into my back pack and left. I turned before I got out of the area, they were all looking at me, I gave them a casual salute and left.

......

The Next Time.

Life went on, classes, part time jobs, studying and what-not.

I was in the bookstore, looking for those stupid blue books. Had to have one for a test. I got what I needed, and was browsing in the odds-n-ends type section, pens, ball point refills, highlighters, paper clips and other things I couldn't really fit into my budget, when Jock guy bumped into me. Yes, actually bumped into me. On purpose. Yeah, he meant it to be friendly.

"Hey, how 'r you doing?" he asked.

Damn he was loud, every head in the bookstore turned to look at him. I saw one of his, no two, of his blond sorority girl types a few aisles over.

We chatted about nothing for a while. There was some one else there in the aisle sort of looking things over at the same time I was, when Jock guy talked about my scar again.

"Hey, sorry if I put you on the spot about the scar back then. But I gotta say, that was a funny story," he said.

The guy next to us looked over.

"What story?" he said.

"Oh, you gotta hear this, it's funny," said Jock guy.

"What's it about?" said the guy.

"His scar! Look at that thing."

"Hey, what happened? You get caught in a hay baler?"

By then there were more people around. Jock guy definitely didn't have an inside voice.

"Come on, tell us again," said one of the sorority blonds who had drifted over.

I sighed. Dammit, that story was supposed to be a hint not to ask me again. I didn't want to be that asshole that acted all upset and moody, but sheesh, they were supposed to pick up on my reluctance. There's some things that these happy-go-lucky kids didn't need to know.

So I made up another one, just pulled it out of my ass.

"Ok, there were were, after my second deployment to the sandbox, We were in our Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicle, tooling up Highway One, Running North. The Central Highlands off to our West. Not a worry in the world. They said Charlie was done for and some jeeps had done a sweep up the highway just a few hours before.

"The driver said he wanted to listen to some music. Well, he was a big fan of 'Kelly's Heroes', and especially of Oddjob. No that was a different movie, it was Oddball he had a thing for. So he slides a Wagner disc into the CD player those Bradleys come with. Before you know it we're listening to 'Ride of the Valkyries', I think he put it on the outside speakers too.

"We're about half way through the tape, uh, disc, and wouldn't you know we find out we should've been going South. Thats when they dropped 'The Bomb' out there to the West. Over the central highlands."

"An A-bomb?" asks some bystander.

"A Nook-U-Lur bomb. Dropped from a B-2 stealth bomber, trying to wipe out some tunnel complex. Yeah, I know, they never admitted to it. But we were there. We were too far out to have been in the fireball, but the Bradley got caught up in the blast, it rolled us over and over. Good thing they told us all to wear our flak vests and helmets and to strap in.

"We're rolling around in that tin can kind of like old Indy did in his lead lined coolerator. Well, eventually we stop rolling and miracle of miracles we're upright and on our tracks. The engine had cut out and so had the lights inside. Then the driver turns his key in the steering column, and that Dodge Four-Twenty-Six Hemi, with twin four barrels fires right up. Yah. Now THAT was sweet music.

"Lights come on, the hydraulics work, the TC (Track Commander -- up in the turret with the gunner,) swiveled the turret around and had a look-see through his periscope. Nothing going on anywhere, but he said he saw a '54 Chevy racing down the highway way out in the distance.

"Then the CD player went crazy. Weird noises come out, not music, things sputter, then it shoots that disc out at like a million miles an hour. It bounces off LeBeau's steel pot. Damn, leaves a dent in the thing. Bounces off the turret ring, then shoots past Kinchloe, so close that it shaves off half of his mustache, cuts the brim off of Carter's hat and slices open my face."

"Then what happened to the CD?" asked nerd guy.

"It imbedded in the rear door, half stuck in the armor plate, half out. Weirdest thing I ever saw. Later on the Motor Pool guys pulled it out and put it into another player and it still worked. Had to replace the player in our Bradley though."

"Did the cut on your face bleed a lot?" asked nerd guy.

"Nah, Hilda was right there, she patched it."

The blond chuckled and shook her head as she walked off.

"Highway one, Central highlands, Charlie? With a Bradley? B-2? Nukes?" I heard her mutter to herself. I think she was a history major, and I think an Army Brat growing up.

"They have CD players in the Bradley's?" asked Jock guy.

"Yeah man, air conditioning and reclining seats with speakers in the headrests."

"Wow man."

I picked up a ball point and headed for the check out.

Surely no-one'd ask about that scar again.

......

The Next time.

I thought that'd be the end of it. I mean it had been a few years since I'd been out of the army and that was only the second time anyone had specifically asked about it. I thought that after those whoppers none of my casual acquaintances or friends would be asking about it, they must know I didn't want to talk about it. I assumed that word would get out.

But you know what you get when you assume.

We were in a fairly nice Mexican restaurant, slash, bar, slash Cantina out on the east side of town. They had a large round table that we all sat at and had enjoyed a nice meal and good conversation, and had ordered desert. We'd all finished our finals. I'd gotten a nice scholarship for the next semester. Between that and the GI bill I might let one of my part time jobs go. Everyone was happy and relaxed as we dug into our sopapillas.

It was almost the same group as the first time, a couple of new faces. Most of us were still in the study group for one of my classes, and had become pretty much friends. This was just a get together before we broke for Christmas. I'd had a few dark beers, and was in a good mood.

What surprised me was that it was the brunette with the Magic Blue eyes that asked the question this time. I though that with the horrified look she gave last time, that she'd be the last one to bring it up.

"Tell me again how you got that scar, I'm not sure I remember right, and I think those of us that haven't heard it might be interested."

I took a deep breath and looked around. The ones that had heard me the first time back at the library just grinned. Jock guy just shook his head and blew out his breath. There was only one of the Sorority Blonds with him that night, but I couldn't tell if it was one that I'd seen before. So I took a deep breath, looked at each person, then started.

"I was up in Seattle, drove there on a three day pass from Fort Lewis, where I was stationed. I pulled up and asked this streetwalker how much for a blow job in my car. It's not that she was some beauty queen, actually she looked a little shop worn, you know. But that's what you get. Am I right? I was damn horny, and tired of pulling my own semi-limp four and a half inches. She said twenty dollars. I said OK and she got in and we drove to an empty parking lot and blew me.

"Gotta say she was good. I guess she'd had a lot of experience. So I thanked her and drove us back to where I found her. Then she said she needed fifty bucks for the blow job. Well that was just too damn much. I mean she didn't even swallow, the bitch spit it out on the floor of my car! I told her she said it was just twenty.

"The bitch had long nails, but one was more than that. She had something like one of those steel banjo picks they slide on their fingers. She had it on her thumb that had to be two inches long and razor sharp, don't know why I hadn't seen it before. She sliced me open, then put it next to my eye. Told me the price went up to a hundred."

"What did you do?"

"Hell, I'm no fucking hero, I gave her everything I had, must have been about four hundred bucks. She kept asking for more so she got my phone and then my car keys. I got out and started running. I ran for a long time.

"Some cops pulled me in, tossed me in jail. No money, no ID, no phone. Said there was a robbery at a gas station down from where they picked me up. They said I fit the description. Hell it was Friday night and I couldn't get to see a judge until Monday. So couldn't even bail myself out or call anyone. I didn't know any numbers, they were all on the speed dial on my phone."

"What happened?"

"I spent the weekend in jail. On Monday I was waiting my turn to be arraigned, and they cut me loose. Said they caught the perp and got a confession at a different precinct. It was a woman, five foot nothing with red hair. How the hell did I fit that description? Go figure. Fucking cops, am I right?"

"Wow, did you ever get your car back?"

"I told them it got stolen, and eventually I got word that it was in the impound lot all the way over in Spokane. Took me forever to get leave to go pick it up, had to pay a buddy fifty bucks plus gas money just to drive in and get it, then they wanted and arm and a leg to let me have it. I was kind of surprised that the hooker hadn't trashed it, she left it in mostly decent condition. It was out of gas though. And there was a hell of a lot more dried cum on the carpet, on the seats, hell, even on the dashboard. The Bitch."

The ones who hadn't heard the first time were shocked. The ones that had just grinned. Jock guy just looked confused. He started to say something, but the blond next to him just elbowed him in the ribs and whispered that she'd explain it later.

Eventually the meal was finished we paid, tipped, and went our separate ways.

I remember Christmas was sad that year. When I got home our dog, old Neil, had been put down. Just too old, dad said, went blind and was having seizures. For me that put a damper on the whole season. I guess Mom and Dad and my sister had all gotten used to the idea that he wouldn't be there. He'd been just a year and a half old when I finished high school and went into the army. He was he one that really welcomed me back whenever I got home. I still miss old Neil.

The only real high point was at the party the neighbors invited us to. Mr and Mrs Jeffreys were always real nice to me, and that night Mrs Jeffreys told me to call her by her name, Anne. And when no-one was looking she gave me a heck of a kiss under the mistletoe. She told me that Neil would be happy in dog heaven and might even be watching over me 'from the other side.' Nice lady. And hot looking.

....

Another time.

It wasn't until the end of the next semester, right after finals that anyone asked me again. I guess the word got out that I'd tell a whopper and no-one wanted to hear it. That's what I was hoping anyway.

We were in a small quiet bar, just six of us. The brunette with the Magic Blue Eyes was there, and Jock guy. Two others, a guy and his 'steady' were there, white-bread types from way up in the North West of the state. I think they were in grad school, friends of Magic Eyes. They were nice enough, and hung around a lot. And another sorority blond that seemed glued to Jock guy. Or maybe one of the same blonds that always hung around him. I think she translated for him. How he managed to stay at the U after he got cut from his team was beyond me. Maybe his folks kept giving rich endowments to the place.

But it was his sorority blond that asked this time.

"I don't think Fred and Wilma have every heard how you got that scar, I know it's a thrilling story, why don't you tell us again."

OK, I know, their names weren't really Fred and Wilma, but they were forgettable and Fred and Wilma fitted them.

"Oh yes, it always makes me so proud of you when I think of it. Fred, Wilma, you might not know it, but he was in the army, a decorated combat veteran. A hero, really," gushed Magic Eyes.

I don't know where the hero part came from, I'd never mentioned anything about the army to her before. But it was nice that she felt that way about me.

Fred and Wilma just looked blank, perhaps confused.

I sighed. Not again. Couldn't they take a hint? I took a breath and started in. I figured telling a story was easier than telling them I didn't want to talk about it, I was afraid they might feel hurt or embarrassed.

"Oh that? It's a dueling scar."

"A dueling scar, like with...."

"Yeah, sabers, well, I was stationed in Germany, after my third deployment in the sandbox, so Sabel or something. Fucking Herms. Am I right?"

They winced at that racist slight. So maybe not such bad people after all. I'd taken them for Young Repugnicans, but maybe not.

"What was the duel about?"

"Oh, well, that's the interesting part, you see I was in Berlin. We called it "Bear City" because the city flag and coat of arms had this bear on it. You saw it everywhere. There was even a beer named after it. One evening I was walking down the Ku-Dam, the Kurfurstendamm, after two many liters of Baren Pils. I was looking for a currywurst stand. This gorgeous teutonic beauty comes up to me. Six feet tall, platinum blond hair down to her apple shaped ass, legs all the way up to it, on top of heels that kept her on her tippy toes. A slit in the side of the dress up into the stratosphere.