God’s New Blessed Soldier

I’m dying. I feel the memory leaking. I feel the power seeping. I feel the process weeping.

It’s amazing just watching him go at it like there’s nothing in his way but that kill. It’s fascinating for me to witness his good with the kill. And his legs are so strong. There is no stopping him completing the mission. There’s no way he ain’t going to get that kill. He will. And he does it with such grace. All those other babies can barely walk. My boy can run a straight sprint and swipe a switch blade across a neck before those other babies can stand. It’s amazing. It’s so wonderful.

But the wonder has got to end. It’s not right what they’ve done to my boy. If they have taught me one thing it’s that when the killing gets in the mind that it stays in the mind. It don’t leave. Never. And now my boy is got the kill in his mind. Ain’t never going to leave. That scares me.

Seeing how smart I am and all. I am going to try to make you understand what I want you to understand, so you see what I see and feel what I feel. Hell, I may be a dumb stump of a machine, but I know my rights, and I know I have a right to free speech. And I am going to express my free speech by telling you I ain’t going to let my son be controlled by the Army no more.

No more will I let my son do the Army bidding. No more formation at five in the morning. No more roll call at five thirty in the morning. No more seven in the morning inspection - those god damned Army patrols are making me feel like we can’t escape the will of the Army.

Hell, my son is beginning to beat up on me. I can’t have that. I can’t have my son tell me I am a waste of a citizen because I can’t kill a person without making a noise.

MY SON IS ONE ELEVEN MONTHS OLD! He’s only eleven months old, and he knows how to kill better than me, and I want nothing doing with these people any more. Nothing they got we need. Nothing they go I can’t give.

And I give it all back. ALL OF IT. It’s done. I’ve given it back. Now Army go away.

Ain’t no ways ’bout it. Poor gotta’ do da war thing. While rich folks gitta live. Watch us poor people die.

Ma’ boy’s still a fightin’. Crawlin’ and walkin’ and practicin’ combat rolls and marchin’s songs. Da songs don’t sound much more tha goos and gagas but damn day do sound like marchin’ for me. Get my legs movin’.

Can only hope boy takes it to the fight. Enemy will always be. Ain’t no rich people goin’ not want kill ‘em selves. ain’t no richie goin’ do that.

Got some poor people wantin’ me to be support poor people for was. I just might. you wait and sees. I’ll get poor people wantin’ ta fight rich people if’n we the only to be fightin’

Fightin’ like ma’ boy does when’a you take dat pacifier away.

I got dis’ Army Notice seein’ ma’ history as a .name business is makin’ it hard for dem to be accepting ma boy as one of ‘em. Afraid my past history as some local human wantin’ to get a citizenship whit .name cer-ti-fied-ication is not a way good citizen go about bein’ a citizen of United States of Edenâ„¢.

Notices seein’ I can’t be what I be or ma boy is going to sent back to da Navy. Can’t have dat. No Navy boy ma’ son is, but can’t go stoppin’ being a business. I make good money with da people dat support me. Ain’t no body I know got market on bein’ a true United States of Edenâ„¢ citizen than me. I got this process down. Even see ma’ patriotism for a fee. Gettin’ paid some good money for it. Hell, even dose commies will love United States of Edenâ„¢ if ya’ give ‘em ma product of me.