Bomb Squad
Hired #4
Kenneth Guthrie
Smashwords Edition
Lunatic Ink Publishing
Copyright 2012 Lunatic Ink Publishing (Founded by Kenneth Guthrie)
The first day on the job is always the worst. Frank pulled up outside of the small brownish building a sign that said ‘crazy people wanted’ on the outside in bright fluro paint.
This was the US army’s bomb disposal unit in Iraq. Frank went over and opened the door. Loud punk rock blared out from inside. What sort of people are these guys?
Inside there were three of the strangest soldiers that he had seen in the army. None of them looked up as he entered.
“My name is Frank. I’m here to see Corporal Lawrence.”
The fat man in the corner with a PSP gripped in one hand and a chicken in the other pointed at a seat.
“He’s in the can. Park it for a bit.”
Frank sat down next to a woman with spike hair and a t-shirt that said ‘Fuck the Military’ on the front. The whole thing was just so out of his range of experience in Iraq that he didn’t really know what to do or even to think.
The third man glanced at him over the top of his copy of Playboy and spat on the floor. This lot clearly didn’t like visitors.
“Fuck, my ass is burning. What did you put in that chicken last night, Rick?”
The big man snorted.
“You just have pussy ass guts that can’t handle real man food.”
The man that Frank assumed was Lawrence slapped him around the ears.
“I’ve been on the goddamn shitter all afternoon, you fuck. Learn to fucking cook.”
He noticed Frank.
“Who are you and what do you want?”
Frank opened his mouth, but the words aren’t coming.
The woman threw a folder on the floor in front of Lawrence.
“Thanks…”
The corporal picked it up. Some gum had stuck to the bottom and he shook his hand a bit to get the gum off.
“Frank, eh?”
He shuffled through the papers inside the folder.
“Looks like you get around. Body counter, mail boy, driver, and now bomb disposal? You some sort of war junkie or something?”
“He looks like a fucking dick to me, corp.”
Putting his Playboy down on the table, the snorter stood up and came over to stand in front of Frank.
“You look like a bitch.”
The fat man smirked from where he was watching.
Frank got up and looked the man square in the eye.
“You got something to fucking say to me?”
The man smiled. He wanted some and he was looking to get it.
“Sit the fuck down, Dick, or I’ll break your fucking jaw,” the woman said without even looking up from the file she was reading.
The man stared at her hard.
“My name’s fucking Richard, bitch. You better learn to respect me or I’ll…”
“You’ll what, ‘fucking Dick’? You want me to bust you up like the last three times.”
Dick glared then spun on his heel and went to sit down again. Obviously, these two had more than a little bit of history and it didn’t look like it was the good sort.
“You too, Frank. Unless you want me to pound the fuck out of you on your first day.”
He immediately sat down on the stool. Frank wasn’t willing to push his luck with this woman. If Dick was worried about her then it made sense to make sure he stayed on her good side too.
The corporal, who had watched the whole exchange, put the folder down on the table and pointed to the woman.
“Jenny, you look after this one, ok.”
He turned to Frank.
“Do what she says and keep your shit packed in tight and you might just live for a little bit longer, ok.”
He spun around and headed right back into the toilet. There was a bit of snickering and mention of the ‘king returning to his throne’ from the fat man before all was quiet – well, except for the loud blaring punk rock.
Frank inspected the group that would be his co-workers for the foreseeable future. It wasn’t a good mix.
*****