It was viet-NAAAAAAM, man!

A comon phenomonon.

...and so he loosened his red bandanna. He sat stooped at the faux-mahogany booth in the tiny, dark restaurant. Four unfinished whiskeys scattered before him.

"They were everywhere man." He says to himself. "They were in the tree's man. They were in the ditches."

"Mmmm..." Says his companion. The companion is a bespectacled, tweedy type with a pointed goatee that was beginning to get out of control due to lack of maintenance. He was reading a newspaper. "My god, it says here that some kid spray painted a nipple on the premier of China's personal car. My god, can you imagine..." He continues.

"They were asking me man," the first fellow says. "What happened to you man? You came back a completely different person." He takes a drag from his thick, foreign cigarette. "It was Viet-NAM!" he says. "We were smoking thai sticks and poppin little kids, man. Little kids tied up with fuckin bombs man!" He says.

The bespectacled man puts down his newspaper and signals the waitress for more coffee.

"So, tell me Johnathon have you been having any more dreams where you're 'back in the shit?' " he asks. "Hmm, rain." He quietly adds, noticing the light misting of greyish water beginning to drip outside.

"Every night, doc..." John says. "I'm back there every night."

"And have you tried the leg stretches?" The doctor asks, pursing his tomato colored lips.

"Try getting hooked on H in a foreign land. Just injectin the euphoria to get away from the napalm dreams man..." He says. "I saw old men flayed alive man!" He says.

"Well, I don't think you know what flayed means," The doctor says offhandedly. "But more importantly you must learn to let go of you guilt, especially considering, well... how to put this delicately..."

John gave an intense look towards his soup. "You know what we ate in the killing fields doc?"

"Yes, I believe you mentioned the subpar rations..."

"Human BONES!, doc." John shouts. "We called it gooksticks man."

"Indeed." Doc says. "I'm really more concerned about this persistent halucination you have of being a Vietnam veteran. Or having been in the army."

John nods. "Right." He lights another cigarette. "Right..."

"Or having in fact been alive during the Vietnam war. Your mother tells me that you've just started Highschool and this behavior is a bit..."

John leans forward looking directly in to the doctors narrow eyes.

"...Offputting.."

John leans back. He looks at the ceiling. "Fighting for the country you love. They spit on us man...

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