#unloaded another. intriguing. pallet today

[bas-rouge]

I just want to draw dogs and read about dogs but alas..! I am trapped at work for another 2.5 hours and then need to Clean House. Happy spring lol

[ecotone99]

[HR] The Daily Grind

Working at a home improvement store was never my dream job, but it pays the bills. For just over minimum wage, I get to enjoy the backbreaking work of unloading freight trucks day in and day out. Only to then obscenely cram shelves with the product as to not indulge in the self-torment of exerting more energy putting the leftovers up with a ladder. Then going home to remove my increasingly torn clothes and lay on a hard twin mattress that encourages the aches and pains to further inflame my body for the next day. Ya, it's not a dream job, but it pays the bills.

If you could consider it lucky, I mostly worked in a department that I enjoyed due to my previous intrigue in a malicious get rich scheme, gardening. There was heavy lifting to be had within the garden aisles, anyone would often work up a sweat. But my current attire, a shabby hoddie with the pockets ripped a gap, told my equally discouraged coworkers otherwise. Donning my gloves and latching onto my squeaky pallet jack, I pulled the heavy load closer to the sliding doors. The tracks slowly creaked apart as a gust of night frost brushed against my cheeks.

I lugged the small wooden fertilizer carrier into the reverse Hell that is Ohio winter. This action was without regret as the pleasure I felt when my body ceased to perspire was borderline euphoric. My inhalation of relief felt as if the tiny ice crystals crashing to the ground were traveling down my diaphragm and finding permanent residence in my lungs. As the rubber edges of the metal-framed doors reconciled behind me, my eyelids did the same and felt a moment of peace. However, in opening my eyes, it dawned on me that the many tall lamp lights around the vicinity weren't on.

It wasn't the first time they'd been disabled after closing hours for whatever reason management could conjure up, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. But that combined with the darkness of daylight savings in this godforsaken state made for increasingly difficult work conditions. Continuing my mental accounts of good fortune, the merchandise I was toting resided down the first aisle on the right. Turning back and gripping the metal handle with both hands, I struggled to begin the momentum of the load once again. Thankfully, the polymer tires began to roll and I made my way down the straightaway.

Though, as I realigned my eyes with my destination, my abrupt stop was not of my own accord. I even knew better as my ankle had suffered many of injury due to ill-prepared hand-jack slowing methods, today would just be another bruise added to the list. But even the pain was not enough to warrant a movement, as the balls in my head stayed locked to a moving figured within the shadows. Though the steadily moving entity seemed to merge with the darkness at times, it remained apparent that it was still there, and it was moving closer to me. The creaking and snapping of what seemed to be bones echoed over the howling wind.

"Who's there?" I calmly exclaimed through my chattering teeth, as my mind ran through the many scenarios of my coworkers pranking each other many times before. But as a proper response time grew ever distant, I began to take steps back beside the pallet towards the door. The sound of cracking bones rang out louder and more violent as if they'd began snapping in half. A groan wailed out of an ajar jaw as the unnaturally slim arms of the assumed person began to contort in a wrapping motion around its own torso.

As the being approached closer, the outline of their boney digits became more distinct. I immediately wished they hadn't as I witnessed their right hand digging into the left side of their face, atop the location of the cheekbone. The regurgitation of the potato chips I had earlier was the least of my concern as the sound of skin ripping reverberated against my eardrums. The sound of continuous dripping into the forming pools of blood against the slab was taking cracks at my dwindling sanity like the ticking of a clock. My posture refused to hold as my sneakers clapped against the ground in the direction of the mechanical doors leading back inside.

After grabbing onto the first coworker I could find, we headed back outside, flashlights in hand. There was no sign of the thing I had encountered still lurking around within the gated area. My coworker, Mark, had just waved it off as some kind of animal after jokingly accusing me of handling paraphernalia. He motioned towards my pallet and patted my shoulder before heading inside. But, even though he was back to the daily grind, I could not help but remain behind, for the pools of blood still reside.

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[ecotone99]

[SF] Disgraced Soldier or Manchurian Candidate?

I’m gonna be Frank, this sounds crazy, even to me, and I have been diagnosed bipolar one. I met this guy in Three west. Three west is a fancy military psych ward. This isn’t from my disorder but it’s in his memory and He don’t know why, so I am gonna share it here for him. I will share it, as a sci fi short story none of you would ever believe to be true.

The morning of February 14, 2004, Valentine’s Day, Valerian’s Birthday, the day T never expected to destroy his life. T was so excited, it was the day he finally got to respond for his worst day ever. The morning of September 11, 2001, T was on his way to school with his then crush Xan. Xan was so cute, she was wearing blue jeans and a cute tight white shirt and T was just so happy she had agreed to ride to school with him, finally. He was making a turn in his 1981 Carolla hatch, ugly white with even uglier wheels, no sound system or stereo, and power steering that didn’t always like to work.

The car decided that at this moment, that last problem would make an appearance, and the CD player between him and Xan also decided to skip. T, being a stupid 16 year old, reaches for the CD player with one hand while attempting to turn with the other and stare at Xan. The steering wheel stops turning smoothly and the car careens into a mailbox, sending glass and debris all over Xan. The car then slides across the road into the ditch on the other side slamming onto its side. T, being a super tough strong Jock, opens his driver door, slams the car back onto its tires, peels out of the ditch and drops Xan off at her dumb blonde friends driveway to catch the bus. By the time he gets to school the first tower had already fallen. He had gone home to get cleaned up and tell his mom what had occurred, they had no Tv in their house so T didn’t get the news until he walked into that hushed class.

The class was glued to the Tv. The smoke billowing from the towers rubble. Seconds later the news came, the pentagon had been hit. T’s father was currently working in DC. He ran out of the class room. He had to get home, he ran past teachers, security, and the principal, hopped in his beat up car with its crushed windshield and sped home.

That memory was what fueled T’s rage, his hate, his menace, for years while he lashed out at the system that wasn’t doing enough. He wrote report after report, got F after F for topic and subject not quality of research or production of point but he didn’t care anymore. He knew what he had to do. His Grand Father was in the Air Force in WW2 and he was gonna do the same. He just didn’t realize how closely that would occur till today.

As he cleared his head of the past, and looked at the next few steps too his future, T hugged his mom and his friend Valerian goodbye. No one else has found the time to come see him off. That Valentine’s Day would forever burn in his mind as his last day of civility. He spent basic training at the top of his class in all fields and even tested for SOCOM but decided the academy was his route. After technical training he was sent to his first duty station. This is where the story really begins.

T arrived in Alaska, the final duty station of his Grandfather as an Airman, his first. His grandfather had served as a bomber pilot in the 3rd Operations Group, Bombardment Group during WW2. He was so excited, he was going to make his father, and grandfather proud. The night his mother left is when the things started to get, weird. Today, T maintains that he has two memories of the events that occurred following July 17, 2004 and November 18, 2004.

To make matters worse T has been unable to find his official personnel file, DD-214, or Medical records since his discharge and transfer from Alaska back to VA. He has made several requests for the information. His pay stubs are missing, his GI bill payments come back as unfunded, his copy of his medical records mysteriously disappeared from his home along with his copy of his DD-214. He has odd dental work and a strange circular embellishment on his right cranium. No doctor will give him an x-Ray or cat scan even after being offered cash upfront as payment. He has been hospitalized forcibly twice as a civilian without reason and once as an airman. This poor man has been through it all.

In October of 2004 T is charged with heinous crimes as well as undergoes a testicular amputation preparation course, by November he is opened up and the testicle is removed. The first real memory he can describe is waking from that event. Everything between the night of July 18, 2004 and November 18, 2004 are described as “one memory is a picture with sound, and the other, a full on movie.” This will try to put together, in the best way possible, the duality of T’s memory from those times.

————

July 17, 2004

I am at a gas station with K. Two girls are broken down. I help them get their truck started by banging on the starter while K turns the key. I haven’t found out yet K is part of my soon to be Unit on Elmendorf. K and I drink all night with Athena and Shannon. K takes me back to the hotel my mom and I are staying at before I have to report for duty tomorrow. I call my brother at 0100 to freak out about the sun going down and coming up in the same freaking place. I pass out in the bed next to my mom.

July 18 2004

I report to Munitions Storage as ordered and meet up with White and K. K and I spend the morning meeting the airmen and getting accustomed to life at storage. Around 1300 we are sent to the FTAC.I remember falling asleep in a briefing from OsI at the FTAC center and waking up to be told I have been picked to leave in support of operation enduring freedom as part of TF Olympia. I get up and head to the deployment center and get my gear and am on a plane headed for Kuwait by 1800.

I also remember a picture of Athena and my watch saying 1800, a bottle of Soco 100, and a military ID that says she is 17 as we are driving onto base.

July 19 -27 2004

No picture memories of these dates but vivid video of loading and unloading Mk 82 pallets on a C-7 in Okinawa and Hawaii. Then heading to SK.

July 28 2004

Some where near the DMZ, I encounter my first live fire experience as NK forces attempt to over run a small OP we are restocking. My 7.5 ton truck is clearly stuck in a mud pit as I attempt to turn around. We were delivering T rounds for their MGs and mortar rounds. The SK forces cleared us out the mud quickly and we were back on our way. Picture memory of a strip club and a Quarters Order breech claim by an unknown Airman. Picture of me standing in front of a commander in FTAC being yelled at about what I did wrong. Audio memory of being lectured and me arguing I left after midnight so I didn’t breech the quarters orders of 24 hours from three days earlier.

July 31 - Aug 23 2004

Classified orders, Task Force Olympia, Baghdad. Classified orders, Task Force Olympia, Fallujah Classified orders, Task Force Olympia, Mosul

Aug 29, 2004

Picture memory: Truck, tires, burning flesh.TF Olympia patch on the ground. Location: Mosul. Time 1800 local according wrist watch.

Picture memory: Athena and I having sex, Athena’s dependent ID saying she is 19 on my bed side. Location: Chennault Ave, Elmendorf AK. 2200 local according to bedside clock.

September - October 2004

Picture memories of hospitals and briefing rooms Locations: Ramstein, Virginia, Alabama, California, Alaska

Picture memories: drunk strip clubs all the time Location: Anchorage Alaska

November 2004

Picture memories: OSI briefing rooms and hospital beds.

November 18, 2004

I remember waking up and the major telling me I may not be able to ever have children but the surgery was a success. Everything before this memory is so fuzzy. I don’t know what is real or fake. I am unable to find Athena for several months. I finally track her down, she claims we never dated and she doesn’t know who I am. Her military ID says she is 25 years old. Athena is the first and last person I remember being with and the only person I remember dating during that time. My new girlfriend Angie confirmed that Athena was indeed 25, and went to high school in Alaska with her. Athena was the child of a SF commander. ————- So as you can see by reading his own accounts, it’s a little crazy. Out of respect to the source, I am omitting some events names and ranks. He is under the impression he did something or saw something that he shouldn’t have, T is also worried he might be a sleeper. His mind is really messed up. He can recite names and dates and places that can be fact checked. That is the weirdest part to me. His facts, check out.

So, take it as a grain of salt, but this poor man’s story deserves to be told. After his testicular removal he was systemically railroaded out of the military. He ended up going before a court martial and being exonerated of all charges with prejudice against his command for unlawful command influence, but not after spending 3 months in the brig for his own safety and others. He has many memories since of words setting him off for no reason. Weird flashbacks, and strange people randomly following him places. His paranoia even heightened my own at one point while I absorbed his tale of espionage and intrigue in the early 2000s.

He has, since discharge, struggled. Most recently he has been unemployed and collecting SSdI. Another one of the little things that makes him feel weird. He got his disability without an attorney, without the need for a hearing, and without even talking to anyone. He has been committed by judges who have apologized to him and said they had no choice. He has had doctors tell him he is not medically unstable and ask him which drugs he wants to take. He has also been forcibly taken by police with no charge and no outbursts. The poor man has been beaten senseless by the system he was so anxious to serve in 2004. If you are looking for light at the end of this story, there isn’t any, he has done everything he can to find the truth, the truth has eluded him the harder he tries.

He hasn’t given up, he now runs a small recording studio. He raises a small boy. He takes care of his niece and his fathers land. He is a good man still today, just confused, lost and broken. He is incapable of trusting even the schools with his son. He is scared of the internet and terrified of public appearances or employers. The man has been totally undone by the system he once swore to protect. No help, no real answers, just tranquilizers and indifference are his reward for his scars.

His story really got to me. T was an idealistic American boy. A Boy Scout, fire fighter, EMT, and Airman. He deserves more from the society he served his whole childhood. I hope this story entertained you. I hope his misery brings you some joy, you heinous monsters. Sorry, like I said, his paranoia got to me a little too.

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