A War Story
“So, dear, how was your day at work today,” his wife asked.
“It was fine,” he said. “I was busy.”
“Did you score a lot of hits?” she asked.
“Yes, I did. Quite a few. We were dialed in on several high value targets in Afghanistan,” he replied. “Although some of them involved children. You know how they use children to try to deter our attacks.”
“Oh, indeed I do,” she replied. “How many were you forced to kill today?”
“Only 2, I think,” he said as sipped his beer, while flipping through the channels on the tv.
“Well, that’s better than last week, when you think you killed 4 children in one day. Isn’t that right? It was 4 last week, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s right. Glad you remembered that. I was feeling a little down about killing those children. But two isn’t so bad, is it?” he said, sipping more of his beer as he watched ESPN.
“Oh, no it isn’t. And don’t feel badly, dear,” she said encouragingly. “You have to do it. And after all, they would probably just grow up to be terrorists in the future any way.”
He was silent as he glanced at the tv, drank his beer, and tried to focus on ESPN. After all, the pennant races were tightening up.
“Are you ready for dinner, dear?” she asked.
“Oh yes, any time now,” he said. And soon they were eating and talking about the upcoming weekend when they would be off for the beach. It would be fun.
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