going to happen now. I [was] about to die and all I [could] think of was Lily. Lily and the pebble caught in my show. I think the dumb thing had found its way into my sock and poked the arch with every other step. My god, it hurt — both things hurt. Shit, I was about to die and I was worried about a rock in my shoe — a rock that was gonna poke my foot for another two miles. Damn. I had to lighten the mood or I was going to get stung to death by the wasps of memory and lost hopes. “Hey Tommy,” I started without really knowing where I was going with it. “Hey Billy,” he said [with] the same awkward grin and anticipation for some conversation. Nuts. Now I had to come up with something. “Umm,” I started again, “I got this stupid rock in my shoe and it’s fucking killing me.” Shit, that was one of the two things I was trying to avoid thinking about by talking. I really am a dumb fuck. That’s a lie — I like to think I’m a pretty smart guy, but I guess you don’t think too great when you know you’re halfway to your own grave yard. “Aww, poor baby! Maybe I should send a messenger pigeon to mommy hand have her send you a bandage and a candy stick!” he jested and mock-cried at me.
To be finished Later
-the boys go into battle
-Tommy dies, Billy lives but with eternal guilt [that he didn’t follow orders and die]
-the shock of losing a son kills their mother
-Billy writes an epitaph as if from their mom