Tuesday, January 24, 2012

To Absent Friends

Every January 24th since 1943, George and Leroy toasted the hellish night they'd first met in a foxhole on Guadalcanal. It was conducted with little ceremony and much beer at the American Legion Hall.

Leroy's Cadillac skidded down the road. Street after street featured a battered "Road Closed" sign.

"Leroy, maybe we best forget this year and git on home 'fore somebody gits hurt."

As if fulfilling a prophecy, Leroy struck an unseen hydrant. George crashed through the windshield and lay broken and dying in the slushy gutter.

Driving slowly away, Leroy mumbled, "Damn! Now I REALLY need a beer!"

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