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drink beer. It tastes like panda piss. And I’ll pick up some liquor later.”
    He walks over and stands beside me. “That’s right, I remember. It’s too much yeast in beer and you don’t want that beer belly,” he said.
    I rinse out my mouth and stand up to let him use the sink. I grab a towel to the left of the sink to dry my mouth and throw it to Noorak to use.
    I rush all around the room pulling out shirt, pants, socks, shoes, iron and ironing board. I ask Noorak to iron my shirt for me while I jump in the shower. Being late was something I wasn’t known for, besides, I don’t want to keep Shane waiting, he seems like he has answers to all this. Why we left American soil to fight in a country that did us no wrong, why we had to risk our lives, and take lives…? Why did Green have to…?
    The next twenty minutes were a blur between taking a shower and getting dressed. I get in my car, open my sunroof and turn my music up. “I love the nightlife.” I tell myself as I drive a short distance to the Coo Coo’s Nest.

 
     

    Coo Coo’s Nest
    Killeen, Texas
    1/13/08
     
     
    I pull into the small parking lot around the back of the club and get out. I walked around the brick building to the front entrance. I hear a lot of commotion inside the closer I get to the front door. But it’s a Friday night in Texas. Some things are just to be expected, I tell myself. Then all of a sudden, right before I get my hands on the green door in front of me. Bang! The door flies open, two entangled men burst through banging the heavy green door against the brick wall it’s hinged on. Startled, I jump back as two belligerent drunks land on the ground before me and try to get a better grasp of what’s happening.
    Everyone who follows them out of the bar circles around the two and begins to yell in excitement, rushing from inside the club outside – drunk, staggering and holding drinks and bottles of beer to see how things will unfold.
    The two tussle around in the dirt getting in a good punch here and there then roll in the dirt again and the pattern repeats itself. I even sneak in a punch myself due to almost being knocked over with their grand entrance, or grand exit I guess you could say. I get a good look at them, a darker skinned guy and… “Shane!?” I yell out in uncertainty.
    “What?!” a woosy drunk voice answers back.
    “I should’ve known,” I say to myself, rushing to the middle of what now is a crowd around two drunken fighters. I try to separate the two, and as soon as I wrestle to get the bloodied yin and yang apart from one another, they both stop and start laughing at one another.
    I look at Shane in his well-ironed black button up and jeans, both of which are now slightly stained from a blood dripping lip. And a tall Haitian with a swollen eye, who towers over both of us in a black tank top and black jeans with a skull belt buckle.
    “Ha ha ha ha.” The two continue to laugh at one another like madmen while everyone else who once crowded around yelling out comments to add fuel to the fire, now walks back inside. At this point, I’m confused and beginning to get frustrated.
    “Shane,” the tall Haitian says as he begins to pant heavily, hunching over and grabbing his knees. “I told you that tail was mine.” He smiles revealing a gold tooth on the right side of his mouth.
    “You ain’t have jack squat, Captain!” the ever confident Shane replies.
    “Captain!?” I said aloud filled with an unbearable amount of curiosity. I should have been able to tell earlier he was military because he shared the same haircut as me; low and even all over with sideburns that come to the edge of his ear. But, a captain, why would Shane have any misunderstandings with this officer anyway? Only a crazy person does the things Sergeant Shanahan does, but I loved the guy for being him.
    Hating to be in the middle of the situation and clueless as to what’s going on, I ask the question that I believed would clear