“Thanks a lot. Kid is gonna go puke up everything he just ate. What a waste of good food.”
“Someone has to tell him. I bet there were plenty of your buddies back in Vietnam that would have been well-served to have heard it.”
“Suppose so. Part of being an American man, though – get a gun, go somewhere, kill or be killed, come home or don’t. It’s our rite of passage like any other primitive tribe. You skip that, you are missing part of what makes a man a man.” Petty reached under the table and pulled up the bottle. The Driver drained his Ball jar of iced tea and pushed it over to be filled. “Serious drinking man now, are ya?” Petty filled both glasses, passed one back and held up his. “Here is to those who wish us well, everybody else can go to hell.” They clinked glasses and The Driver dr
