“I can’t. There aint no C-4 in it.”
“Numbnuts, where the motherfuck is the C-4?” Steve Hoover quietly removed another grenade from his gear. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing and he was pissed.
“I ate it. I ate it. I figured I’d get high. After today’s hump, Man, I had ta do somethin. Maybe I’d get sick see? Then Doc’d have ta medevac me. I’d get medevacked see? That’s good. Or I’d get high. That’s good. Either way it had to come out good.”
“f**k you. Just f**k you. Go out there and blow yerself. When did you eat the fuckin C-4?”
“This afternoon.”
“Did you get high?”
“No.”
“Are you sick?”
“No.”
“f**k you. You w***e sonavabitch,” Hoover whispered seething, staring into the jungle.
“Well at least I put out my claymore. Where the hell’s yours?” Numbnuts whined.
“I’m goina sti
