Submission - Overheard in the Parkinglot - C. A. Winter

Written by C. A. Winter

 

The boys are hanging out in the spotlight under the silos. Robbie is perched on the truck bed with a lap of unopened beers and a tray with some weed. His hands are sticky from picking it apart. Alan, who’s leaning on the back of the truck, forgot to bring the scissors this time. Brendan and Will are standing nearby with a beer in each hand, and they’re all arguing about what might’ve caused their class to be a bunch of fuck ups. Next week, they’re set to graduate high school but none of them have a clue what’s next. As they drink and smoke, things are getting a bit hazy, and the meaning of the madness is becoming clear to Alan. He’s listening to Robbie make fun of Will’s uninteresting opinion on the meaning of life; there is no meaning. 

Alan crunches his feet on the gravel and stops them. “You know what the real problem is?”

“What’s that, man-“ Will looks up from his beer. 

“The real problem is our dads, man.”

Robbie pipes up, “Ole man never hurt me-“

“Yeah, but that’s the thing man- the rest of ours did. Think about it.”

Robbie tries to cut him off, “What’re you on about?”

“No man, think about it- think about it. They were what, 17? 18? Sam comes a-knocking and they’re off from all this. This quiet woodsy shit and bam they’re in some jungle with a bunch of monkeys and Kongs creeping up behind ‘em. Then if they’re lucky they come back home to all this.”

“This jungle of our own.” Robbie puts his hands up and points at the trees.

“Yeah but no Viet’s man.” Will chirped with his beer up to cheers. 

“Amen.” Brendan agreed.

“Yeah,” Alan laughed, “But like think about it for a second here. Bunch of guys just like us just out in the trees shooting any motherfucker that don’t see you first. Real shit. None of this low-level shit we’re on- I’m talking real fucking killing.”

“Yeah, so what. It’s not real. It’s war.” Robbie shrugged.

“Hoorah.”

“Nah, nah, it ain’t hoorah. It’s worse. Can you imagine being one of those guys, man? Napalm everywhere, shits smoking like a bonfire, your buddies who you hardly know are dead or dying- all that blood, dude. Fucking cracked!”

“Fuck man you’re stressing me out, shut up a bit about it.” Will shushed.

“You’re killing my high dude.”

“Yeah, stop being all sappy.”

“No, hang on let me finish my thought.”

“Have a hit first- let us at least.” Robbie chuckled.

“Yeah, for real man.”

“Fine, fine.”

Robbie passes a lit joint to Will, blowing smoke down his arm as he hands it off. “Damn this shit’s good- who had it?” 

“You know Amanda’s brother?” 

“Amanda-Amanda? Like..?”

“Yeah. Her brother.” Brendan squeaked.

“Mikey the marine? He had it? I thought he was in jail or something.”

“No, but his buddy got it from down South.”

“Holy fuck.”

“If Amanda were alive man, holay. I’d-“

“Shut up man.” Robbie scolded, grabbing the joint from Alan.

“Yeah that’s fucked up man.” Alan scuffed his shoe on the gravel lot, sending little pebbles flying onto the side of the silo. 

“Alright let’s hear it.”

Alan coughed. “What I’m sayin’ is, is like it’s tough being the kid of the generation that didn’t have a real life. Buncha guys, get swept up by the gov, told to go die in the jungle, see some wicked shit. Shoot this guy, go here. Kill that guy, go there. Diabolical hell, real hell. Green hell, then all the sudden it’s over, and they gotta get the hell outta there, and the world they come back to on the other side is all fucking crazy- like people are getting shot left right and center, drugs - DRUGS!” He points at the joint, “Are everywhere, people are like tripping, but like not as much. And then all that shit in California- like, what’re you supposed to do but come home to a different kind of war? It’s a war out here, like a real psychological war man- people losing their minds and going berserk man, and then what? They’re supposed to just fall into an American Nuclear family? Two kids, a dog, a wife, a white picket fence- after all that calamity on the other side? No wonder we had it rough. Dad drinking all the time and wakin’ us up in a frenzy talking about some wild shit like someone in the trees. Mom’s cooked out on the pills while dad’s in the garage cursin’ and swigging it down like it’s Saturday night. Why’d you think that is, man? He can’t handle the world he came home to- the very one he sought to protect. So, he just fuckin’ sat and got mad at anything that wasn’t still, wasn’t dead fucking silent. Our poor moms had to take up with animals.”

A barn owl hooted in the woods, and the boys sat in the smoke. The thought of the animal at home made them shudder.

“Like a pitbull in a cage, man.” Brendan uttered. 

Will downed the last of his bottle and tossed it into the bushes. “What were they supposed to do? They were soldiers, man.”

Robbie hopped off of the back of the truck, squishing the roach of the joint out under his shoe. “You know what happens to a police dog when it's time is up?” 

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