I give Brent a lot of crap. And in return, he gives me an equal,
if not larger, share of said crapola.
Case in point was one Hail and Farewell at Tanks when I
had just had my vasectomy. I was using percaset (a great drug
for those so inclined to lose themselves for a couple of hours)
and was unable to drink any alcohol. At a Hail and Farewell,
this was a significant handicap but I did the best that I could.
So I entertain myself by talking to a new lieutenant and
his wife, the Filkos. I saw they were feeling a little out of
place so I sat next to them and discussed 29 Palms and their
new environment. I introduced myself and told them that my wife
was here, somewhere, and that she was looking forward to meeting
them. Just then, Carrie, who was at the other part of the room,
stood up but neglected to push her chair back. Therefore, the
chair dumped over backwards and hit the floor, resulting in
the obligatory explosion of laughter and heckles that you always
get from a crowd whose alcohol consumption is measured in gallons.
Yes, that’s my wife. When she returned from the bathroom,
I saw her coming down the hall and I said “Oh, I can introduce
you two now.” She came walking up, bent over and said to us
“I’m trashed,” and then left as fast as she came. Yes, that’s
As though things could not get worse, and the reason I started
this story, Brent yells out from across the room “Hey vasectomy
boy, how’s your nads?” The night was turning out splendid.
This little outburst obligated me to inform the Filkos that,
yes, I had recently had some surgery.
With that said, I have always looked for opportunities to
get my little digs in where I could.
Melissa, Brent’s wife, tells Carrie and I that Brent had
gone to the PX and bought all new clothes for the marathon.
He got new shorts, a new shirt, and even, get this, now socks
that cost an exhorbinate amount. Oh, this was just too rich.
What kind of loser boy goes out and spends all this money like
a weekend warrior, wannabee, country club Don Juan? I gave him
so much crap and laughed every chance I got about it.
A few days before the race, Carrie and I were in the PX
and I wandered over to the running section. Hey, I could use
a new running shirt for the race. And look at these shorts.
I could use some so I would not have to wear spandex and thus
prevent chaffing. Before I knew it, I had bought a shirt, shorts,
and a new hat to run the race in. Oh, the humiliation. I had
looked at mine enemy and he was me!
I don’t know who gave me more crap over this: my wife or
Brent. But oh how I paid.