In Rememberance (standard:drama, 1008 words)
Author: Thomas Keister	Added: Feb 22 2001	Views/Reads: 3613/2230	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A disillusioned war veteran prepares to take a chilling last stand for the memories of that which he fought for.

The alarm clock started blaring at 5:30 on the dot. For Arthur, he
wouldn't have it any other way. He dressed slowly, smoothing out the 
clothes that had been carefully laid out the night before. It was 
breezy outside, only around seventy degrees. Keeping that in mind, 
Arthur grabbed a thin jacket from the closet and pulled it on as he 
left. 

"A pretty nice day for walkin'," he thought as he made the leisurely
stroll to Q's Diner. The last couple of years saw his eyesight slip a 
little more, so Arthur only drove when the weather demanded it. At 
least it made his family feel better, the ungrateful flock of bastards. 


A slow crowd greeted Arthur as he entered and took a seat at the
counter. Most of the regulars were there, so the usual conversations 
were in full swing, most of them bitching about Congress (those 
bastards), the protests at the courthouse (those whining bastards), and 
the Admirals (those overpaid bastards), for their money the worst 
football team in the history of the sport. 

Feldman finally picked the topic Arthur didn't care to discuss. "So
remind me again you crusty bastard. How was it you were selected to 
speak at the dedication today?" The mayor, "keeping it real," on one of 
his re-election promises commissioned a veterans memorial at Fairdale 
Park. Arthur though it was a christless mess. If hizzoner was going to 
keep it real, he should have taken the time to figure out that 
everybody's pretty fucking sick of that catchphrase. The VFW, in their 
vast wisdom, picked Arthur to speak at the memorial dedication, a 
dubious honor that he really didn't want, but didn't want to turn down, 
either. 

"I was too drunk that night, so I couldn't say no to anything," retorted
Arthur, eliciting a round of knowing guffaws from the all too-knowing 
counter crowd. After two more cups of coffee, Arthur said his goodbyes 
and started home. 

It was on the way home that Arthur began checking his mental list of
things that pissed him off. The list had nothing to do with the fact 
there was an obvious generation gap. Thing change over time, and Arthur 
knew that better than anyone, but shit still got to him. 

Shit like the foul-mouthed girls hanging around the corner market every
single time he went for a paper. If they weren't going to be in school, 
at least they could be working, or blowing their boyfriends, anything 
as long as it shut them the hell up. 

Punk kids wearing fatigues. That never ceased to amaze him. As far as
Arthur could figure, it was that damn Apocalypse Now movie that set if 
off. One memorable Thanksgiving, he had threatened to leave if his 
nephew didn't change. No fourteen year-old had any right to wear that, 
unless it was halloween. 

There were god-knows how many other things on his list, but if he didn't
think about something else soon, he probably wouldn't be able to make 
it home without taking a blood pressure pill. That was something Arthur 
DIDN'T want to think about four blocks from home. 

As Arthur set his keys on the counter by the phone, he checked the
messages. There was one from the Mayor's chief aide, reminding him to 
be there a half-hour early for the dedication, and one from his 
daughter telling him why they wouldn't be able to make it out there. 
Most of the time, Arthur would just mutter "typical," and turn on ESPN 
on the off-hand chance something was on besides that christless 
snowboarding. Today was a brand new day, and circumstances warranted 
that he be glad they couldn't make it. The ungrateful flock of 
bastards. 

Having a couple of hours to kill before he had to go, Arthur sat down on
the couch with the photo albums. Normally, he would be in the garage, 
fiddling with one of a hundred projects Maureen had said he would never 
finish. Fighting back a tear, he opened the first volume. Sometimes he 
really missed her bitching. 

Memories were usually best re-lived if you wanted to take the trip, and
it was a road that Arthur hadn't wanted to travel since Maureen passed 


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