“I can’t. I’m working tonight. It’s Tuesday. And I have to set some mouse traps.” I said.

“You know, I sometimes can’t figure you out. I’ve seen you pick-up an earthworm from a puddle and toss him to safety but you seemingly have no trouble breaking the necks of mice.”

“Weird ain’t it? …Don’t worry, you have earthworm status.”

“That’s good to know.”

...

I had lunch with my supervisor and we started talking about the poker game scheduled for this Friday, we both need to budget money for the game. My supervisor said “What’s Friday? The first? Because that’s when I get my cuckoo check.” I asked “I thought you only get compensation for the physical?” referring to his damaged hand and arm, it’s not too bad but he has lost some mobility. He answered “Yeah, they say it couldn’t be proven that it was the war that made me crazy.”

Yeah, I know.

It was determined that he has post traumatic stress syndrome and they don’t dispute that he was in the war but they won’t commit to saying it was the war that caused the traumatic stress.

Yeah, I think he was on holiday in Vietnam.

The point of my question was stop kicking the shit out of yourself because you get a little bit of money every month for permanent damage done to you by the war. The U.S.A. caused you damage, buying you a beer every now and again is the least they can do.

The least I can do too. I bought lunch. He left the big tip.