My dad was a sailor, who served on the Kitty Hawk and in Vietnam. (He wanted me to go to Annapolis, but I balked, and joined the civilian world much to my detriment, but I digress...) His best friend was a Marine, and I've known Marines my whole life. I've always loved them, and they've always been good to me. There are times I couldn't have survived had it not been for a well-intentioned, enterprising young lance corporal. I love them, and I always will. (No love for the Core, but I care about those boys -- and girls, 'cuz there are a few BAMs out there...)
How could you? These boys are on the edge, tweaking and high on heroin and homeless, sometimes selling their bodies after several tours. Then they have to see that? Fuck you sonsabitches. Fuck you. Those boys are my friends and I swear to god, if you try even a fraction with them of what you tried with me, I will seek you out, find you, and fuck your shit up for good. Don't you ever dare fuck with them. They are good men in pain, and I won't let you hurt them. I am for real. Call the local judge in the 415 if you want, go ahead -- tell them I threatened you. It doesn't matter. Karma actually exists, and you will get what's coming to you for hurting those boys. There's nowhere to run to escape the consequences of what you've done. Despair, if you've got the fucking brains to think that far ahead...
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