29-03-2019, 05:43 PM
Troy sat at the breakfast table at Julie's parents' house. A small TV was on in the nook between the dining room and the kitchen, and Julie's father was catching up on international news while she helped her mother clean up the breakfast dishes.
On the screen, Contessa Helena de San Finzione stood on a platform in an Uongoian refugee camp, giving a speech as soldiers handed aid packages out to the refugees. She spoke to the crowd in Swahili as an interpreter translated.
"When the warlords drove you from your homes, you were in need. You needed food. You needed medicine. You needed shelter. You needed to survive. You looked to America, the land that I am by turns proud and ashamed to call the land of my birth, and you told them of your needs. And they gave you 'their thoughts and prayers.'" She gave a small chuckle before continuing.
"Yes, their thoughts and prayers. And so you tried to treat your injured with thoughts. And your children went to bed with bellies full of prayers. You then looked to the European Union for aid. And they gave you words of condemnation for those who sent you from your homes and 'their concern for your struggle.' And so you treated the ill with words of condemnation, and your children ate nothing but their concern.
"And then you looked to San Finzione. And as I speak, our doctors are seeing to the sick amongst you, and our soldiers are handing out the food and water for your children. The warlords tried to blockade your camps, stand between us and you; and we stared them down until they blinked." She gestured toward the news camera.
"And now the world's eyes are upon you. They are seeing the truth of what you have suffered, of what you have lost, and what still is to be overcome; and they are learning. They are learning that when you seek empty words, you turn to the so-called 'superpowers.' But when you seek a friend who will give all they can, you turn to San Finzione!"
The refugees cheered. Julie's father turned off the television.
"I always knew that little bitch was going to be trouble, coming from that family and all," he said to Troy, picking up his coffee. "But I figured she'd just get into drugs or crime or something."
"She got into something far worse than any of that, Colonel Andrews," Troy said, taking a drink of his own coffee. "International Politics."
"Troy, son," he replied. "When your parents needed a sitter, my wife changed your diapers. If you're not comfortable with 'dad' by now, 'Tom' will do."
"You earned the rank, sir. You're entitled to it."
"Ok, call it a fuckin' order, then," Col. Andrews said, taking both their cups and walking into the kitchen to refill their coffee. "You ladies all right in here? I could use Troy's help in the den."
Julie looked over her shoulder at him with a smile.
"They're called man caves now, Daddy; and yeah, we're good here."
"Yeah, I ain't gonna call it that." He held Troy's cup out to him and gestured for him to follow.
Tom led him into a room with a couple of big recliners flanking an old leather couch with a coffee table in front of it, closing the door behind them. Moving boxes were in packed and half-packed states all over the room. Empty bookshelves lined two walls, and a spot where a big-screen TV once sat opposite the couch was now bare. Discolored spaces on the walls marked where pictures, display cases, and multiple guns once hung, though there were still a few yet be removed.
Colonel Andrews set down his coffee and took down an M1 Garand rifle and several pistols that were still up on the wall, setting them on the coffee table before removing a couple of cleaning kits and a bottle of whiskey from a desk drawer.
"Little something stronger in that," he asked Troy as he sat in the recliner and poured a bit of whiskey into his coffee. Troy nodded negatively and sat close to him on the couch.
"Bit early for me."
"Well, one of those retirement benefits they don't tell you about," he said, taking a drink. "There's no 'too early' anymore."
On the screen, Contessa Helena de San Finzione stood on a platform in an Uongoian refugee camp, giving a speech as soldiers handed aid packages out to the refugees. She spoke to the crowd in Swahili as an interpreter translated.
"When the warlords drove you from your homes, you were in need. You needed food. You needed medicine. You needed shelter. You needed to survive. You looked to America, the land that I am by turns proud and ashamed to call the land of my birth, and you told them of your needs. And they gave you 'their thoughts and prayers.'" She gave a small chuckle before continuing.
"Yes, their thoughts and prayers. And so you tried to treat your injured with thoughts. And your children went to bed with bellies full of prayers. You then looked to the European Union for aid. And they gave you words of condemnation for those who sent you from your homes and 'their concern for your struggle.' And so you treated the ill with words of condemnation, and your children ate nothing but their concern.
"And then you looked to San Finzione. And as I speak, our doctors are seeing to the sick amongst you, and our soldiers are handing out the food and water for your children. The warlords tried to blockade your camps, stand between us and you; and we stared them down until they blinked." She gestured toward the news camera.
"And now the world's eyes are upon you. They are seeing the truth of what you have suffered, of what you have lost, and what still is to be overcome; and they are learning. They are learning that when you seek empty words, you turn to the so-called 'superpowers.' But when you seek a friend who will give all they can, you turn to San Finzione!"
The refugees cheered. Julie's father turned off the television.
"I always knew that little bitch was going to be trouble, coming from that family and all," he said to Troy, picking up his coffee. "But I figured she'd just get into drugs or crime or something."
"She got into something far worse than any of that, Colonel Andrews," Troy said, taking a drink of his own coffee. "International Politics."
"Troy, son," he replied. "When your parents needed a sitter, my wife changed your diapers. If you're not comfortable with 'dad' by now, 'Tom' will do."
"You earned the rank, sir. You're entitled to it."
"Ok, call it a fuckin' order, then," Col. Andrews said, taking both their cups and walking into the kitchen to refill their coffee. "You ladies all right in here? I could use Troy's help in the den."
Julie looked over her shoulder at him with a smile.
"They're called man caves now, Daddy; and yeah, we're good here."
"Yeah, I ain't gonna call it that." He held Troy's cup out to him and gestured for him to follow.
Tom led him into a room with a couple of big recliners flanking an old leather couch with a coffee table in front of it, closing the door behind them. Moving boxes were in packed and half-packed states all over the room. Empty bookshelves lined two walls, and a spot where a big-screen TV once sat opposite the couch was now bare. Discolored spaces on the walls marked where pictures, display cases, and multiple guns once hung, though there were still a few yet be removed.
Colonel Andrews set down his coffee and took down an M1 Garand rifle and several pistols that were still up on the wall, setting them on the coffee table before removing a couple of cleaning kits and a bottle of whiskey from a desk drawer.
"Little something stronger in that," he asked Troy as he sat in the recliner and poured a bit of whiskey into his coffee. Troy nodded negatively and sat close to him on the couch.
"Bit early for me."
"Well, one of those retirement benefits they don't tell you about," he said, taking a drink. "There's no 'too early' anymore."
Like, Comment and Give Rating.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)