Sunday, February 28, 2010


Bailey finally decided to call it quits. His lengthy hitch qualified him for a full pension, and he was sick to death of Camp Swampy. Sarge had been bad enough, but the officious Lieutenant Fuzz had put him dangerously close to the edge. Enough was enough.

Shit, he thought. All those years in the Army and still a lousy PFC.

Screw that. He had come into a small inheritance, and with it he planned to open a bar. But what to call it?

When he came up with “The Foo Bar,” he knew his old buddy Smokey would be proud.

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