The two of us in Boston at a Bertucci's, someone was on a crazy metabolism fooling diet and we both ate entire pizza's.
No bad memories. Only thing remotely close is a certain phone-call I made some time ago regarding a mutual friend that needed someone. I wasn't able to be there so I ask you to be there. Because I trust you and know you would be a good friend.
At a fight practice, years ago. Each of us with a 4', last two men in the circle. We look up at the looooooooooooooooooooooong expanse of hillside with no one on it, smile at each other, nod uphill and start running, shouting and cursing in Japanese the whole way. We get to the top, exchange a couple of blows, turn and run back down, doing the same thing.
I remember that vividly...except for who actually won. The victor didn't matter; it was the shared experience of that battle. The spontaneous and simultaneous decisions to live it up like only two otaku can, with cries of "mada mada shinene na!" and "bakamono...damare!" in between our alternating attacks.
Ah yes. I remember it well. Prussia, 1916, during the Siege of Alcaise-LaFarge. You were a doughboy from Kansas, all bright-eyed and full of that Yankee enthusiasm. I can see it now like it was in front of me, the light as it slowly faded from your eyes, as the long months rolled on, the fighting in the trenches, men screaming and dying, calling out for their mothers.
Yet, despite all that hell, you never let the bastards grind you down. You never let it crush your soul, not completely. And I feel that perhaps, even an old frog from Provence like me learned to fall in love with this ugly, beautiful world once more. We parted at the Armestice, swearing a lifetime of brotherhood and comraderie.
Naturally, I died the next year from consumption.
At least, that's what Miss Cleo told me when I asked me to come up with a memory for me. I guess past-life regression isn't all it's cracked up to be!!
Ah, those were hellish days, but they were our days, weren't they? I wasn't about to let Jerry get the satisfaction of ... wait, did you say Alcase-LaFarge? Miss Cleo told me we met at the Battle of Belleau Wood. I think Miss Cleo owes me my money back! Surely, I'm the first person she's ever duped...
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No bad memories. Only thing remotely close is a certain phone-call I made some time ago regarding a mutual friend that needed someone. I wasn't able to be there so I ask you to be there. Because I trust you and know you would be a good friend.
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I think, eventually, you killed me.
Maybe.
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We clearly need to spar more often.
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Ah yes. I remember it well. Prussia, 1916, during the Siege of Alcaise-LaFarge. You were a doughboy from Kansas, all bright-eyed and full of that Yankee enthusiasm. I can see it now like it was in front of me, the light as it slowly faded from your eyes, as the long months rolled on, the fighting in the trenches, men screaming and dying, calling out for their mothers.
Yet, despite all that hell, you never let the bastards grind you down. You never let it crush your soul, not completely. And I feel that perhaps, even an old frog from Provence like me learned to fall in love with this ugly, beautiful world once more. We parted at the Armestice, swearing a lifetime of brotherhood and comraderie.
Naturally, I died the next year from consumption.
At least, that's what Miss Cleo told me when I asked me to come up with a memory for me. I guess past-life regression isn't all it's cracked up to be!!
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