Molly & Hero

W A R N I N G ! ! !

This burlesque poem contains strong language, military slangs, scenic sexual & violence texts.

Parental guidance is advised.

This is dialogue between two old pals both which are veterans and septuagenarians.

One named Rtd. Gen. Martin Gerald and the other Rtd. Gen. Henry Bart Nicknamed Molly and Hero, respectively.

[Only Act and Scene]

{Two Glasses click}

Martin:

Baby's head, bully beef, hard tack, Maconachie,

Tinned plum & apple pozzy

Can't believe I outlived scoffing...

{Henry interrupted with an earth-wide grin}

Henry:

Molly, Molly, Molly, Martinnnnnnnn, my Molly,

Days of dido, myrrh, sherbet, grog,

Drinking from a grey hen, so fucked

After wet one's stripes

A rough house is expected from zig zag cadets aye?

Martin:

Aye!

I bet when Brigadier comes barking

Red eye & red hussar clouds leaves

With red phosphorescent trail

Henry:

Tracers! Aha ha

Martin:

Practically it's like HANO

{Henry continue laughing gently, while Martin speaks on}

You barely comprehend the fuck he's saying

Only let your "Yes Sir!" be louder than thunder

When he finally leaves

And no punishment he gives

Grab your fleabag,

Nothing's sleeper than sleep.

Morning drills, go to war

You dream of wishing on a star

Yellow Parchment is a golden coin

Most of us were just leprechauns

Henry:

You're funny Molly

Seriously there is no life after retirement

Fuck Civvy street

Martin:

Hero you're right about that

Life after is war-er than war

Hate the civvy street fuck

Fields' more tolerable

Ain't no use goin home

Jodie's got your girl alone

Henry:

You mustn't bring that up, must you?

Chiba is doing fine now with Curry

Martin:

That bastard asshole, Curry.

Henry:

It's 50 years now

Plus after her you've had 4 divorces

Two daughters, 3 grand children

Don't understand why Chiba now

{Henry shrugs and then nods his head}

Well she was your first.

I understand.

Hmm...I sincerely do.

{Both take a sip as Martin wave at the maid to bring another bottle of whiskey}

Maid:

Coming Sir!!

Martin:

Hero,

I planned and built my life around her

She's the magazine

If I'm an AK-47

She's the soldiers

If I'm a war

She's the sole to my boot

The boot to my foot

The emo to my soul

The journey in my road

My psyche

The proof is she's my bullet

I come home Indiana Jones

Pump & dump with her is adventurous

We don't have sex

We celebrated its invention

From a moped to a bronco

She rides me like a pro

Henry:

You're such a genius

You've got a way with words Molly

On khakis you're Julius

{Henry paused as the maid came in with the whiskey, Martin signalled her to go on pouring the spirit in his wine glass}

{Henry ended rather gratingly}

Thank you, you can leave us.

Martin:

You've forever being cold to women

Henry:

She's a maid!

{Henry shrugs not guiltily}

Martin:

Hero? Not her only.

Women in general.

You've gone frigid towards women

After Rene eloped.

Henry:

Do I have a bad breath?

{With a blatant grim face Martin put on almost instantly, Henry started talking & chuckling simultaneously while gazing at the swinging palm trees closest to the roaring hungry blue sea}

You said frigid right?

I've got Hypothermia and frostbite

Martin:

Most of us suffered from it

Warfronts that were colder than death itself

You've got to shoot to keep warm

But then bullet aren't coals

Still...

...You're serpently lying Hero

{Martin stands up, walks up to the very front of the balcony, holding the balustrade, takes a sip of his whiskey, comb the desert vegetation on his bald head, walking towards to Henry}

There's something you're not telling

I did not leave my very comfort zone

Rode 18 miles to your home

To bond again with my closest pal

Only to get fed with a half baked truth

This is a different you

What happened to you?

Henry:

CSR, Molly.

{Saying that, Henry uses his left hand to squash his forehead while holding his wine glass and tapping his feet slightly hurriedly}

Martin:

Excuse me,

I've heard that before but somehow

Lost the meaning of those letters help me

{Henry drops off the wine glass, uses his both hands to squash his forehead, shamefully, pathetically with an even red face now continued. While Martin pays full attention with thrice the interest at first}

Henry:

Combat Stress Reaction!

Martin:

COMBAT STRESS REACTION?

{Martin dismay though May left long ago, it's September}

Henry:

Yeah Molly.

Though it's been a while we hung our boots

But those experience keep haunting like goons

{Martin interrupts him quickly, and stutter noticeably}

Martin:

But I th-th-th-th-th-th-th-th thought yours like mine melted away

{Martin sits down, draws his chair towards Henry's and then grabs the hands. Seconds later Henry look at his friends eyes}

Henry:

It did melt but erupted again like volcano

When the nun lady left to Congo

And now the latter is worse than first

Look at me I'm the blessing and the curse

One morning I was crying like a child

Squeezing under my bed looking for where to hide

Noisy, showers of grenades

Thunderous than when the heavens quakes

Blood everywhere like it rained blood

I low crawled more than 30 miles

Through the swamps, in bloods, in mud

On top of bloodless cold human rots

After 2miles, I got injured by a rib

Thought it was the stem of amateur crawling weed plant

Forced myself through it and I got stabbed

With all the blood & dirts I'd wallowed in

All manner of creatures feasting on dead bodies

Stench upon stench, stronger than skunk's I kept swallowing

At one point I held a body to pull myself up

My fingers sunk deep into the intestines

I dragged it to myself as I moved up

Legless body possibly shredded by a mine

Crawl on top some thousands upfront

Few still fresh not up 48 hours

I perceived my fingers and thought to myself

Barely 3miles away I saw a head

I wept my eyes sore, the head was Seth's

Seth Morgan. He was bloody bodiless

Possibly hit by a shell of a bazooka

I continued my journey after an hour

With rest in between, till it was dawn

Not up to a quarter of my battalion made it

Dead and gone.

At some point in the war

I was mad being alive, hated what I saw

But anytime I thought of suicide

I fell in love with my M1A1 Thompson

It never fails, served all purposes day and night

It was my Jesus when I needed it

Motherfuckers I killed I have not regretted it

Lock and load, it killed demons pulling me to Hades

With my hat used it to dug out cubby-holes

They massacred every part of me

With every soldier in my battalion they hewn down

Months in my mansion, cubby-hole

Hunger turned me into a cannibal

When my M1A1 roar like a lion,

I killed as many Germans as I can

I got more belligerent as the day goes

Helping my team to advance and infiltrate

With help from our birds raining shells

We hid in our cubby-holes,

Aiming at their heads, taking them out

Strafing them from all angles

With rattlesnakes, MG's, M1918

Bazooka, M2 Browning, M1941, M1917

The suicide squad taking them on

You guys in the panzer were way better off

On foot we were killing Germans before your number was dry

I was cutting barbed wire

while you were cutting your milk teeth.

{Martin sighed}

I took an umbrella thought it was my M1A1 Thompson

I heard rain of bombs and gun shots

The hard knock had me exclaiming JERRY UP!!!!

Totally went over the top

Fucking faggot it was my maid

Calling me to the dining for breakfast

Before I realised myself I'd taken her as an alley man

Didn't hurt her much as she was helpless

Martin:

What with nun you mention earlier

{Henry now lugubrious, down in the dump while Martin quickly takes a sip}

Henry:

She is gone

{Henry now disconsolate}

In the Departments of Community

Mental Health Centre

Authorised by the Defence Mental Health Services

Where I was been treated, she was assisting a Psychiatrist

Her name is Kathy Anderson.

Blonde, blues eyes, skin's golden in summer

White in winter, but her smile warms her

Even if she is a nun always covered

I could tell she's shaped like an hourglass

Breast's like a ripe melon

Waist's like the back wheels of horse cart

From a nautical mile I could tell she tastes like a lemon

She's kinder than Jesus

Her shadow can melt off any illness

Her countenance can raise a dead man's bones

Her voice can give life to a stone

So angelic, God must be missing this one

One day I was on session with the psychiatrist

Then she walks with two cups of refinery hot coffees

Her fingers around the cups were heavenly

It was like the ring around Saturn

I was boiling whereas it was winter

I was boiling with love

I lost concentration for 2minutes

But it was like a Millennium

Her beauty is eternal

I became a god staring at her those minutes

Weeks upon weeks

We became friends

Friendship was like that of the earth and the sun

I was the earth, she was the sun

When my psychiatrist traveled to Ireland

She became my psychiatrist

We became five and six

She calmed every fucking nerves I got

PTSD melts when she's miles away

She was a ballet dancer

She'd reward me with a peck

If I go to the theatre to watch her dance

I was in love with a nun, I called her Holy Mary

From pecks to kisses in France

I was becoming a mini-sun

We fucked first at an alley

Broke her hymen at that alley

After that day I was so engrossed in lust

That ecstasy I drown and lost

Couldn't be without her

Invited her over from time to time

At home, in the kitchen, parlour, bedroom, everywhere

before and after bedtime

She blessed me right, Hail Mary!

Blessed art thou among women

After sex which she'd goto a priest to confess

So my wife eloped with my kids

Didn't care, Holy Mary met my every needs

Not until Kathy's irregularities and backsliding

Became evident before her Abbesses

She confessed before them, and was forgiven

She later was transferred to a cathedral in Congo

Hearing the news I instantly lost my mojo

Eventually my latter is tsunami worse than my first.

Relapse.

{From the balcony the sun seem to be drowning in the sea. Everywhere is becoming coal dark}

Martin:

Sorry Hero

I had similar experience like you

Though I let Chiba go because of my family

Though I regret it and it hurts like a wound

Some of us don't survive loving the wrong women

Love from Delilah and Jezebel

Can be all-consuming like hellfire

It seems folly saying no to such goddesses

Half way your psyche is gone and your desires

Are only puppets to Jezebel.

We're both strong men

We can fight ourselves out of this den

{They helped each other to stand and went inside. Henry walks slowly with his golden walking stick, Martin pats his back as he coughs out loud. They both made their way to the dinning room}

Maid:

Dinner is ready Sir.