My Boyfriend is a Monster by J.H. Coates Page A

glad Daddy knew enough Generals to have us put in the same units,” he said looking up. “Don’t know if I would have made it without you.” Thinking for a moment as he pushed the last nail in he decided to correct his statement. “Well, wouldn’t been as much fun.”
    “Don’t think it was supposed to be fun,” Nathan said knowing at times it was.
    “You know what I mean. It’s different when you’re practically indestructible,” he reminded him then looked up. “You can’t tell me we didn’t have some fun?” They both paused. Then Bo recalled. “Remember that tank that chased us through the streets of that French city?”
    “City of Brest, in France,” Nathan recalled.
    “Yeah, the boobie city,” Bo giggled.
    “I remember a lot of tanks chasing us, for weeks.”
    “Good times,” Bo said and grinned. “Battle for titties,” he said and giggled some more.
    “That’s what Louis called it, it was called -”
    “I know, the Battle for Brest.”
    Nathan smiled. “Yeah, I guess we did have some fun,” he admitted. “Just sometimes felt sorry for those guys we fought beside . . . and against.”
    Bo nodded. “In this sad world of ours, sorrow comes to all; and, to the young it comes with bitterest agony, because it takes them unawares.”
    “Lincoln,” Nathan remembered. Feeling better just hearing it, he sometimes forgot just how smart his larger than life brother was.
    “He was a nice man,” Bo recalled. “Remember those dinners at the Lincoln house?”
    “That was the White House Bo, and yes I do. Remember Dad getting mad at us during some of those dinners?”
    Shaking his head Bo snickered. “I remember him offering us our pick of his personal treasures if we could catch Louis and bring him to him after some of those dinners.”
    “That’s right,” he remembered grabbing another piece. “Thank the Rings that boy was quick.”
    This time Bo grabbed the box of nails and walked back with them. “Almost as quick as his mouth,” he said raising his eyebrows.
    “True.”
    Grabbing a nail out of the box he began the ritual again. “We should go and sign up for another war,” he said feeling nostalgic. “What was the last one . . . Vietnam?”
    “We could,” Nathan offered with little enthusiasm. But after a few thoughts he started getting nostalgic as well. “I loved every time we went to basic and seeing the look on everyone’s face when you walked in.”
    “I never had a uniform for almost all of training.”
    “They didn’t have uniforms anywhere near your size Bo. They had to be specially made.” Enjoying the journey back he continued. “Oh shit, even that Irish sergeant was afraid to yell at you.”
    With his best Irish accent he tried recreating the memory complete with hand actions. “He’d be yelling at every one to run f-ing harder, jump f-ing higher, aim f-ing better.”
    “Except you - good effort Bo - mighty fine work Bo,” Nathan imitated a less accurate version. “I don’t think I ever heard a racist comment from anyone except Louis.”
    Turning to Nathan with a look of Angelic realization he raised his eyebrows. “I actually might have cured them of racism.” Then he smiled slyly.
    “Terrified is more like it.”
    “Good deed is a good deed, no matter how you look at it” he instituted. They both started to chuckle. “It was fun but, I didn’t like making all those friends.”
    “Made a lot of those,” Nathan said letting the memories flow in.
    “Lost a lot of those,” he countered. Thinking over the names and the faces Bo grew sad and admitted, “Didn’t like losing them during or after.”
    Nathan could see them all as if he just saw them yesterday. In the smaller battles he and his brothers could actually influence the outcome or at least the casualties. But when it came to the larger scrimmages it became to hectic and chaotic. A hundred thousand soldiers converging upon a field with muskets firing, Calvary charging and cannons exploding