Me in the Army Reserve.....or...why they sometimes execute soldiers!

Since I disliked the military and having been tricked into joining for six years I wasn't a happy camper. Once on a weekend tour at a military reservation several of us were loaded into a truck and taken to a place protected by a wire fence with guards and dogs. They told us we were to mow the grass inside the fence. I asked them why there were huge mounds with metal doors there. Turns out the place was an ammo storage area filled with all kinds of nasty stuff. A friend and I instantly decided we weren't going inside. Next to the guard area was a little building that looked like a little school house. We slid inside when no one was looking. After a while they noticed two guys were gone and headed toward our hideout. We moved to the back room and hid but they decided to search there also so we opened a window, crawled out, and closed it behind us. We decided to just stay outside behind the building. After a while they decided to search behind the building so we opened the window and crawled back inside and they missed us again. After a few hours all the grass was mowed so it was time for us to get back on the truck and leave. We came out of hiding, got in line to get in the truck, and suddenly they wanted to know where the two of us were all day. We told them we were mowing grass and they said "Oh".

Destruction of my brain: the beginning

Right from the start let me say I never cared for school that much. There's just something about sitting there trying to absorb the subject of the day that short circuits my brain. I have a problem with concentrating on the correct things. By the end of high school I had doodles of several hundred small cars all over the inside covers of my notebooks, all around the margins of every page, and anywhere else I could squeeze in just one more car of the future. The major problem I had with education, however, involved females. All kinds of females. The ones I really didn't care for apparently adored me with a passion because they were always begging me to do things with them (and TO them). The ones I liked totally destroyed the remaining brain cells in my head. It's a wonder I ever made it through. They took up all my time. I often said I could write what I learned in school on the head of a pin with a magic marker. Later, as things became more passionate I found myself paralyzed from the neck up but at the time it felt like the right thing to do. So, readers, that is partly why I became a lowly factory worker instead of a brain surgeon. Look at the lives I have saved!