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From: plin@brigadoon.com (PatMan)
Subject: New story, Alpha ver., Need Collaborators
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This is my first post to ASS hierachy ever. I did a lot
of long distance driving in the past few months and thus
had a lot of time to let my mind wander. (Don't blame
the Desert Southwest for my story.) The following is
a story that I had come up with. I've read a number of
great stories from ASS over the years, rangeing from mild
to wild and feel that I can contribute something different.
I decided that I wanted to write some what of an epic (big
word), with numerous characters (that's right) who are
individually motivated (grandiose, definitely suffering
from grandiosity). So if you are interested in helping
with comments (good), ideas (better), dialogues (awesome)
and criticisms (lemme have it!), I'd very much appreciate
it. So here it goes for one of the characters in my story.
Remove the space and the zeroes if you want to eMail me.
Thanks & Enjoy
PatMan
plin00 @ 00brigadoon.com
Gunnery Sargent Terrence "Cade" Shaw, USMC, was utterly having a bad day.
In the life of a Marine MP, he had to deal with a lot of unpleasantries
from his closest friends.
In front of him, on his desk, he was processing the reams of paperwork on
one Corporal Lampton, a good friend of his. That good friend has gotten
drunk at the NCO club and started a small riot. He and one other jar
head started a friendly wrestling match and as the drinking progressed,
the match got less friendly. The contest quickly evolved into a team
event. New contestants voluntarily, or involuntarily, joined in. At the
end, Lampton did a couple of grands of damage to the bar and other
members of the Mother's Lean, Mean and Green Machine. This boy had to
get himself under control. Yeah, too bad that Lampton was Cade's best
drinking buddy and had gone through the great Hathcock's sniping school
in ‘69 on Hill 55. Also that s.o.b. really packed a mean hook. Cade
still had a black eye to prove it. Well, it didn't show very much
because Cade was as black as you were going to get in the Beloved Corps.
Besides, it was too embarassing to himself and to his friends to
advertise it. Just as well.
Now that Nam is over Cade and the rest of the warriors just moped about
under the gutless CIC's (Commander in Chief) new direction, unappreciated
for the blood they had shed, rejectd by the country that once supported
them. Now, the images of the raghead terrorists parading the good people
from the Embassy in Tehran blasted out of TV tubes across America. He
even knew some one who had just transferred out of that Tehran duty
before the shit hit the fan.
"Luck for Johnson," he whispered. Then jumped to his feet with a start
and stood stiffly. "Sir!"
"Poof, you're dead, sniper. If I were Ngueyen Schwartz, you'd be dead,
soldier." Capt. Morris remarked, "At ease, gunny, I was just a-shittin'
ya. Cade, ya gotta take care of your shit, man. Or ya gonna bleed out
real quet in Indian Country. Remember who told me that?"
"Sir, aye-aye, sir. I said that garbage, sir." Cade was standing
stiffly at attention now, cursing at himself for his lapse. It was just
that things at home with Miriam was not working out too well. But he had
too much pride to go into marriage counseling. He wanted kids and she
did not and that was that. Though he tried to bury himself in his duty
but he was failing in both endeavors.
"At ease, Cade. Yeah, I was green as 12 year old virgin pube. You
plucked my ass out of the weeds more than a few times back in the them
days. I just hate to see you waste away like this, man. We PARDNERS,
right? You can tell me that this ain't none of my fucking business and
fly it up an alley somewhere. But I am gonna say it anyway....."
"Sir?" Cade didn't know exactly what was coming but could roughly guess.
"Patch it up, man. Patch it up with Miriam at home. You know what day it
is, Cade?" The Captain let the significance of that sink in.
"Sir? Oh, shit, I mean, Oh, damned, I....." Cade just stammered.
"That's right, well put, Cade. You always amaze me with your total
command of English language. It is your third anniversary with Miriam.
I know that your ass is married to the Corps and the Corps loves you
back. But, man, take the rest of the fucking day off and do that marriage
thing." Captain winked at his friend mischievously. "Like I said, take
care of business at home and the business here will take care of itself."
"Sir, I got work...."
"Bullshit, you ain't got shit here. You are loopy as a VC gooner on
opium. You aren't doing me no favor here." Morris nearly screamed and
then eased off on his friend, "You want me to drag you by your balls back
to Miriam and have you ask her for her forgiveness? I don't think so."
Just for emphasis. "I don't want to see your ass back here until 0800 on
Monday, you hear that? That is an order from you C.O. Don't you disobey
it!"
"And here, just in case if you've forgotten." Morris handed Cade a small
gift-wrapped box. "Make like a fast tracking, outbound Airscout and get
your ass on home."
Cade wanted to refuse the gift. After, it was his responsibility to
remember the important dates in his life. Why was it that he could
remember the date that a two star handed him a Navy Cross for valiant
conduct and he couldn't remember his anniversary? But the Captain was
right. "Aye-aye, Captain." Cade clicked his heel and saluted his perfect
Gunnery Sargent, USMC salute.
Miriam was sprawling naked over her bed. She had just finished round one
with her lover. She was not satisfied yet. She knew that he could
provide more to her. He had too or he wouldn't be here.
She purred, "Are you ready to get some more of this?" She rubbed her
hand seductively from her breast to her pubes. "Come to Mama. C'mon,
your big stud." She urged on with her sexy voice.
He chuckled, "what are you trying to do, kill me? Hey, babe, here comes
Johnny." In his best Ed McMahon imitation.
He haul her half out of bed and let her bend over the foot board, "You are
such a hot bitch, you know? You are so damn hot. I am gonna unload on
you."
"Oh, baby, you talk the talk but you walk the walk?" Miriam begged.
"Ask for it, slut. You ask for it." He commanded.
"Yeah, do me....yeah, from behind, yeah.....just like this."
He inserted his full length into her doggy style and started pumping with
all his might. His right hand grabbed his belt and made a loop with it.
He hissed at her, "I am gonna collar you, you hot bitch!" He wrapped the
belt around his lover's neck and started moving her entire torso with
that restraint.
"Ahhhh!" Miriam screamed at the top of her lungs. "Touch me, you damn
son of a bitch. Touch my clittie. Ahhhhh!"
Her lover obliged. She screamed while his left index finger did circular
motions over her engorged clit, his right hand moving rhythmically with
the pumping of his lower body. She was alternating between gulping down
air vast quantity of air and shrieking out her lungs. She was getting a
hell of an aerobic exercise.
Cade pulled into the driveway in his brand new 1980 Ford Mustang.
"Hmm, that's strange." Cade chatted to himself.
The front door to his small ranch style house was partially ajar. This
place was not exactly the nicest part in Orange County. However, it was
close to the El Toro base. The crime rate just didn't compare with the
rest of the affluent county that featured the Disney Land. He got out of
the car and picked up the L.A. Times in the driveway. He had gotten out
too early this morning to get the paper. Now under the order of his CO
(Commanding Officer), he could read the paper and catch up on the Lakers.
Then he heard a sound emanating from his house. That sounded like
Miriam.
"Yeah, that was Miriam and she was screaming. Oh, shit, fucking
intruders!" Cade's mind went into hyperdrive.
Before Cade's mind clicked his body was already on the move. His
M1911A1 sidearm was at ready and he busted through his front door and
stopped dead in his track in front of his bedroom door. He was shocked at
what he saw.
"Whaddafuck!" The simply expression often gave the most apt description
of an unexpected, bizarre situation.
Miriam was naked the bent over the queen size bed and a man, a fucking
rapist, equally naked, had a belt looped around Miriam's neck and still
had his penis up Miriam's snatch. Cade thought that he would've laughed
at the expression on that man's face, except it wasn't funny. This man
was fucking his wife, fuck! Cade silently rooted for the rapist to pull
out so he could use his Distinguished Marksmanship in removing his
pecker.
Then time stopped, Miriam screamed, "OH MY GOD, DON'T HURT GREG,
IT WASN'T HIS FAULT."
Cade's mind went blank and everything was clear. The marital problem.
Miriam had been so withdrawn in the past few months of his marriage. He
touched her in bed and she just squirmed away. He just stared blankly
and his mind replayed moments in his marriage. It was all over now. It
had to be. "It couldn't be. No! What had I done to deserve this!" His
mind raged.
Then Cade caught in the corner of his eyes that "Greg" was reaching for
something and his reaction was automatic. The pistol came up and two
rounds went through his chest and the next five rounds went through the
combined heap of Miriam and rapist. He stood up the looked over the
fallen bodies and saw that Greg was merely reaching for his trousers,
U.S. Navy trousers.
"Oh, fuck, he wasn't going for a weapon, oh, shit!"
"Oh, fuck, what have I done, what have I done, what have I done....."
Cade just sat down on the floor and looked across the room at his recently
departed wife and her lover and repeated the same thing over and over.
The pool of blood began to trickle towards Cade. But he didn't move. He
sat like a stature and just murmured the same sentence.
Next thing Cade heard were the blaring sirens. They quickly grew in
intensity and Cade walked out of his front door to greet his destiny. He
was sitting in an expanding pool of blood of both his wife and her lover.
"Wooden floor did such a poor job of stemming the flow." He knew that
he couldn't live on. His life, whether dead or alive, was over.
He got out to the drive way just as the first police black and white
pulled up. He looked at the young officers in the car and waved numbly at
the squad car. Then, in a smooth motion, he jammed his side arm into his
mouth and pulled the trigger. He simultaneously heard the hammer drop
and some one shouted, "Shit!"
What a lousy time it was for the weapon to misfire. Maybe his trusty
side arm wanted to save its master. Well, nothing else wanted to. Cade
blacked out after he pulled the trigger. When he woke up, he was
embroiled in a nightmare. He learned that he had shot a Naval aviator
named Gregory Olsen, Lieutenant, US Navy. And his buddies wanted blood,
all that Cade got. Those lousy F-4 drivers. They should've know what
their buddy did for recreation, banging a fellow comrade's wife. "A
married woman! Wasn't that against the Code? Fucking jerks." Cade
thought bleakly.
The Corps went to bat for him. But that wasn't enough. His attorney,
some Naval turd Second Lieutenant, wanted him to beg for clemency from
the military court, citing the mitigating factor. "Yeah, right, I am
gonna take it a Marine, not a pussy sailor." He was no longer resigned
to fate. He was angry at every one, especially the naval types. He was
meeting with another batch of attorneys. He didn't want the damn Navy
ones. And that was what he got.
"Sargent, I am Smith and this here is Clark. We have heard about you
case and are very sympathetic to your plight. We are ready to help you
if you are." The man in Army battle fatigue began, no rank, no insignia,
nothing. His partner, Clark, was dressed in polyester, a civilian type,
but looked the part of a real tough bastard.
"We are going to ask you a few questions about you. Please answer them as
truthfully and candidly as you can." Smith went on.
Cade thought, "Who are these clowns? That Clark fellow, that look, who
does he work for?"
Smith set out a folder in front of Cade and got a tape recorder going.
He waved off the sentry in the jail cell, a private without a word and
asked, "How are your parents, Sargent?"
"My father passed away when I was in Nam, heart problem and mother lives
in a convalescent home." Cade answered. And silently, "And fuck you
guys, you know my parents are goners so why did you ask? Let's get down
to business."
After a series of questions about Cade's personal life, of which he had
none outside of Miriam and the Corps, well, now that Miriam was no longer
with him, nothing, they asked about his feelings in sniping off Viet
Congs. He spoke candidly about the emotion of killing his enemies from
afar and illustrated with details from a few declassified stalks of his
43 confirmed kills.
At the end, Smith folded up his folder but left the tape recorder
running. He looked over to Clark, who sat silently through this
interrogation and Clark nodded back. Smith offered, "We believe that we
can help you, Sargent. But you will have to make some sacrifices in your
life. Do you accept?"
Cade suddenly felt like he was about to sign a pact with the devil. He
was both wary and worried, "You folks are not from the CIA, are you?"
Clark chuckled and spoke for the first time, "What makes you say that?"
He pulled up the left sleeve of his sport coat and Cade saw the bottom
half of a seal tattoo. "So what would it be, Mr. Shaw?"
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