Tim woke up when the sunbeam that came through the space between the end of the mini blinds and the frame of the window had made its way to his face. That was his alarm clock. It never occurred to him why he slept in so late every day. But he had been doing it for so long that he just shrugged it off as part of his routine. He made his coffee, fired up his computer, and began his daily ritual of scrolling through his Facebook feed and looking for some way to start a business from home.
Tim’s time online would have been better well spent doing something else. The opinions of people on the war enraged him. Those who were against the war pissed him off because they were not supporting the troops but what really got him was all the pro-war post.
He hated all the stupid post that said stuff like, “Thank you for your service,” “God bless our troops,” and “Freedom isn’t free” post. The pictures of an American eagle and the twin towers saying “never forget” and Operation Iraqi Freedom. Fucking idiots, he thought, Iraq has nothing to do with 9-11.
He also hated the fact that all these pro-war people had never been or in the least worn a uniform. How could you be for something you have never experienced, he thought. Everyone’s entitled to their opinion about the war, but unless they have been, it doesn’t mean shit.
Tim was a gung-ho troop before his tour in Iraq. He always wanted to go to war. It’s why he joined. Then he did and learned that war wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
When he saw the video of Saddam being hung, he thought to himself, what did we just do?
When arguing with people about the war it would go something like this:
Tim would ask, “What would you think of an army that, for no reason, invaded a sovereign nation, occupied that country, overturned it’s government, and then killed the president they unseated?”
“I’d think that army needs it’s ass kicked.”
“I was talking about us. That’s what we did,” Tim would say.
“Think about it.”
“What about all those people who were cheering in the streets when we liberated them. And, technically we didn’t kill Saddam. They did that themselves.”
“Don’t you think if someone took our president out of office, there wouldn’t be some people happy about it, cheering in the streets? There would be, and you know what, those people would be assholes. Un-patriotic assholes. Could you imagine being on their side? Well, guess who’s side we are in Iraq?”
After a few hours online, Tim headed to the gym where he put in a couple of hours every day. He was in tremendous physical shape. His workout regime was a mix of weights and calisthenics. He also trained every day. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday he worked on his most recent martial art quest, Krav Maga. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he rolled on the mat honing his Jujitsu skills.
He always made it back home before Maria and was sure to shower and shave so he would be fresh for her when she arrived. When he got out of the shower, he threw his dirty gym clothes in the clothes hamper in their bedroom where they collected until Maria did laundry, on Sunday.
I doubled the size of this post just last night. By talking to other authors and readers I get ideas about stuff I need to add. Everything you read about the war and stuff, I added last night… Wow, I just remembered something I thought of last night right before I fell asleep. I have got to get that down. Post feedback in the comments section below.