“I thought you were fat in the Army,” I told the soldier knowing he was not fat but mistaken as such by their metric due his odd body shape.”

“I was never fat! I didn’t have a belly like I do now. They’d send me to the hospital to be weighed underwater and I was always all muscle. I didn’t have any fat.” (swearing below the break)

“I know, I know. How much fat did you have, do you remember?”  I asked curiously.

“No, I don’t remember! I didn’t care about that, I had killin’ to do,” he said. “I didn’t need to be in their dick dancing around with those flowers.”

“Flowers?”

“Yeah, those flower-eatin’ motherfuckers. Those blueberry muffin-eater bastards who count a man’s weight when  he’s busy and wants to go out and kill. He’s got no time for their crap. I didn’t want to go in there and be seeeen by them, a man has better things to do then be weighed underwater by flower-eaters.”