Receiving Room

You returned from Vietnam a couple of months ago. You are working the graveyard shift at the Brig. You are sitting at your desk in the deserted receiving room. You have been working one shift on and one shift off for two weeks. You’re tired and miserable.

A Marine Corporal chaser brings in a new prisoner. How they manage to show up in the middle of the night you do not know.

The chaser hands you the prisoner’s paperwork. The new prisoner stands sloppily in front of your desk.

“This is another one who’s been over the hill for awhile, Sergeant,” the chaser says.

“The mess hall’s open if you want some chow,” you tell the chaser.

“Thanks, that’s where I plan on going,” he says.

The chaser leaves.

You glare at the prisoner standing sloppily in front of you.

You get up from your desk and walk to the prisoner.

“You are at goddamned fucking attention when in you’re in here. An you better fucking call me sir, shit maggot,” you yell in the prisoner’s ear.

The prisoner stands at sloppy attention as you type his paperwork.

Little does the prisoner know. Enjoying a few moments with you is the best it’s going to be for awhile.

All you have to do is endure another dreary night.