CQ

I'd had been sitting outside for about 14 hours watching the fucking paint dry on A Texas summer day; temperatures hitting triple digit heat coupled with jungles of Nam like humidity. My basic function was to ensure that the soldiers living in the barracks don't get out of control (soldiers NEVER get crazy when they drink, right?) or have visitors past 2200. Essentially we're low speed security guards since we don't have weapons, not even the almighty rape whistle. So far the only interesting thing that had happened was watching women try to do the walk of shame out without me heckling them. One female i saw looked like your average stripper who was decorated with tattoos that looked as if they were chosen on the downswing of a meth binge; and the obvious emotional damage that is evident by a combination of career choice and the way she carried herself, sort of like a dog that just got yelled at. I figured she probably had enough problems on her plate that the last thing she needed was for me to play 21 questions about why she was still wearing makeup from last night; she went about her business w.o. flak from me. The next girl i saw emerge from the barracks would muster in any sane man my personal favorite morning after quote "you look like i could use a drink :(". The pundit square that made her appearance possible was no doubt derived from a Bottle nose dolphin and an Orangutan. As she passes me I smell essence of a bar rag, i visibly gag.

Me: Are you signed in at the front desk?

Orangaphin: "i don’t need to sign in I’m leaving this dump, have fun on CQ HAHAHA!"

me: " Im glad that your personality matches your looks. Now get the fuck out of my barracks."