(This post is dedicated to my friend Dave, who requested that I write it. I also feel I should mention that my brother Ricky largely influenced this, I’m sure in some way or other.)
How do you begin a story that has no beginning? This legend existed before time and space. He was an energy that drifted in darkness before the creation of light. He was a architect, creating an outline that would be illuminated and filled in by the sun's brilliance.
It was a cold winter’s day, the eve of Christmas Eve to be exact. The North Star illuminated the Mission Viejo hospital. And the nurses impatiently tapped their fingers as they waited for my mother to freaking hurry up and birth me before Christmas already so they could enjoy their dang holiday.
I imagine Ricky was there probably as bored as a four year old could be sitting in a drab semi-Mexican hospital.
The boy was birthed much to the relief of the anxious nurses and the bored older brothers. Growing up he would smash pees with his stubby fat fingers and then lick the goopy mess off his hands. This is where he got all the nutrients and vitamins that turned him into the amazing physical oddity that he is today.
But, his incredible physique was not his most impressive quality. It was the story of how he survived...
“GET DOWN!” Thom, was yelling as bullets sprayed overhead. The shallow trench they laid in was hardly protection at all. And, to the thermo-optic goggles that the enemies were wearing they were completely naked. His sweaty glistening body—he was only wearing woodland camo vintage paratrooper pants and a sash made of machine gun bullets— moved eloquently through the muddy terrain as he trudged left forearm then right forearm.
“Thirty more meters till we make it to the sewers”. The enemy was closing in quick. It was supposed to be a simple rendezvous, but somehow top secret radio transmissions were intercepted and the whole operation was compromised. Now he and his brother were crawling for their life toward the inner cities main sewage line.
“Did you get the documents?” Ricky called to Thom.
“Yes”
“Bless you and your awesome goatee and muscles”
“This is no time for sappy compliments. We can do that when we get in the sewers. That is if we can make it there.”
For many years Thom could not grow out his superb goatee. This was because he worked at a moderately-low class buffet that had a very strict dress code, which, as you may have guessed, included being clean shaven. But, that was a life time ago before the war started.
(To be continued...) (...probably sometime after the weekend)
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