Not-So Jersey Shore

1

August 6, 2011 by Manny Wordsmith

Stuck.

There’s nothing worse really. The army is notorious for taking people and putting them in places they really don’t want be. In my case, this month, I’m in New Jersey.

But there’s no Snooki in sight. I’m not anywhere near any major city that would house her and her cohorts, but I’m not really interested in running into a 4’9″ brown gremlin. Not to say others in my place wouldn’t run off this Army base to get a piece of stardom via 8 walking Italian stereotypes, but I guess I’m more of a “16 and Pregnant” type of guy. So where’s the nearest trailer park around here?

Instead of being surrounded by beach-bodied civilians or emotional distressed teens, I’ve opted to just sit tight and observe the local soldiers who wander from building to building, unaware of my calculating mind that finds joy in making fun of them through this blog…suckers.

Tonight I will comment on Mr. Evil.

This tortured man of extreme gruff and mustiness, scared the crap out of me as I left the cafeteria. It’s hard to describe him, but imagine a cross between Saddam Hussein and Manuel Noriega. A bad guy. Like the type you would see with black aviator glasses at a rally, yelling at a crowd of loyal goons in a language you’ve never heard before. His eyes were bloodshot and scolding with the fire and passion of a man who’s actually used an Iron Maiden to kill someone. I made eye-contact with him for only a second, but it was enough for Mr. Evil to peer into my soul. I wasn’t positive if I heard it right, but I think he whispered,

“I smell your fear.”

I inhaled tightly and felt my heart die a little, slowing it’s pace like Miley Cyrus’ music career.

Then he said the same thing in French!

“Je sans votre peur”

I thought, “How does he know I speak French?”

I started walking faster and he lurched forward, rising out of his chair. Thank god I can run in boots or that guy would have had me on some hospital table asking me,

“Dos dis hurt mista Smif?”

I seriously felt like I crossed the boogeyman. But my big question is why would the army allow someone, who obviously looks like he’s overthrown a couple regimes, walk among other soldiers and innocent opinion blog writers like myself? If we were both captured in a POW camp…starving, he’d be the first guy to suggest cannibalism. Then he’d continue on about how he was in Belize in the 70s with some English Lord, who taught him how to saute a kidney using 2 flint rocks, 4 dry sticks and a Coat of Arms shield!

He’d be a such a drag.

But my whole experience (that’s lasted 4 days so far) hasn’t been too bad. Thanks to a cool ass roommate (who shares the same awkward sense of humor as I) and a special young lady who enjoys calling and speaking with me at all hours of the day.

Cryptic ain’t I?

Take care fam. More soldier descriptions on the way!

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