:8:

Back from Iraq after two tours, Perry was pretty damn happy to be standing on American soil. Pulled away from his 9 to 5 job. His Harley fix-it-up project. His high school sweet heart. It felt like a lifetime over there.

But those were the very reasons he signed on. Straight out of high school, he knew he had it good. We all had it good. He didn’t grow up rich. There were plenty of things he wanted but didn’t have. But there weren’t many things he needed that he didn’t have. So he signed up. Besides, he’d get to shoot some freaking big-ass guns over there.

Now, though, now he was ready for some quality time with Brooke. Two tours was a mother of a long time to stay celibate. He took a look crap for it from the guys, but he had to keep his word. It took pride, and built pride. He always kept his word.
“Orders up. Pepperoni and pineapple pie, to go!”

“Yeeeah baby.... That looks awesome! Hey Joey, how come your pizzas are the best?” Perry wasn’t kidding, Joe Vinatoni’s pizza’s were legendary. And hearing his thick, old country accent was like music to Perry’s ears.
“Ah doan know. Ah throw the pizza pie in, an’ it come outta a good.”
“You can say that again,” Perry said as he walked out, bungied the pizza box to the back rack, and climbed on his Harley. Sitting waiting for him was Brooke. It was 80 degrees out with clear skies, and she hadn’t wanted to walk into the piping hot store.

Perry kicked the bike to life, satisfied with the deep roar made by the old bike. It wasn’t pretty, but it was his. A few minutes later, they rolled up next to a quiet spot on a dirt road. There was a picnic table and a ring of stones for a fire.

Finally alone, they sat on one bench and faced the fire pit. Perry leaned toward Brooke and kissed her. That was all it took to forget their hunger and remember how long it had been. Tearing at her shirt, his breathing grew raspy. He reached lower... And she grabbed his hand.

“Perry, Perry... We can’t.”
“Wh..what? WHAT? Why the hell not?”
“Something happened, at a party, I still don’t know how.. But, but I got the Clap...”

“You gotta be out of your...” Perry spun around. Red. Spots of black. He could barely see. He couldn’t grasp what he heard. Anger raged in him. His hands were trembling, he had to move from his seat. Reaching out, he grabbed the pizza box. Crushing a side with one hand, he spun and flung it into the woods, jumped on the bike and raced off up the road.

BCS

:7:

“You people are driving me crazy,” Barb said with her teeth clenched tight. “I need some air.”

She decided to leave them standing there in the living room, and retreat to the backyard. But before bolting outside, she made a quick turn into the kitchen. She needed something to take her mind off everything.

Barb had outlawed them from the children’s lunches months ago, after reading yet another report on juvenile obesity. She had already suspected little William was headed down the wrong path, with his requests for extra pats of butter, and second helpings of mashed potatoes. So she sternly (yet lovingly) put her foot down, and decided to ban all sugary and salty snacks from the house. John put up a fight nearly as bad as the kids. She feigned a sense of loss as well, keeping her secret stash hidden in the deepest, darkest corner of the pantry.

And she was in luck: there was one small bag of Ruffles Potato Chips left. After quietly tucking it under her sweater, Barb dashed out the sliding glass door. She stood on the far end of the patio, and gazed up at the early evening sky. She popped open the bag. The aroma of crispy, greasy potato chips tickled her nose.

Within a minute, she had consumed the entire bag. She looked up at the sky again, and noticed how the blue turned to orange which turned to black.

She heard a loud bang, then shouting come from inside. She knew she had to go back in and deal with that mess. She casually tossed the bag of chips over the fence into the Johnson’s yard. As she slid the door open, she quickly turned back around. Barb swore she saw something out of the corner of her eye.

TF