You're under arrest for violating seven articles of scumbag.

If I see a gorilla, I'll arrest it.

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47. What do you believe follows death? An afterlife, Heaven, Hell, something else or nothing at all?
The first time it ever occured to me that I could die I was nineteen years old. I was in Nam on a recon mission with a guy named Peter, who was only a year younger then I was but seemed like a kid still. One minute we were telling each other dirty jokes and the next half of Peter's head was gone and I could feel the sticky dampness of his blood on my skin.

That was thirty-five years ago.

I've been thinking about Peter lately. We we're only a couple of feet apart on that narrow jungle path- why was he the one hit by the bullet? Why did he go home in a wooden box, his life over, while I had to continue to fight and kill? Why did I have to wait over a quarter of a century for the bullet with my name on it to find me?

Yeah, I have a bullet too. May 11, 2006. It didn't kill me, like Peter's, though it came damn close. Close enough for me to spend a couple of weeks in the hospital and then another month and a half in bed. And let me tell you that laying around a bed for two months gives you way too much thinking time. Not a hell of a lot of answers, though.

Is there a heaven or a hell? I don't know. If there is a hell I can give you a list of people who should be there. And as for heaven- I don't know if I deserve it. Someday I'll find out, though. I wear a reminder of how close that day could be.

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