"A man can be destroyed but not defeated."
                                                Ernest Hemingway

Hank, the aging leader of Majestic Services, the ultra secret cabal in the United States intelligence community, glanced across his large desk at the agent seated there. This person was a large man, blonde haired, dressed in black and not looking at his superior. As the blue eyed agent concentrated on the end of his combat boot, Hank reached out to the small tape recorder on his desk and pressed the PLAY button.

*****

"Thor, I am supposed to debrief you concerning the events in Afghanistan when the missionary Miss Smith was rescued by you and the other Majestic Agents."

"I know what yer thinkin’ ol’ son, so put down the bone-a-phone! Ol’ Thor lost it out there and couldn’t handle the pressure. Fuck you and yer mama too, punk! I did my job-as always. Trouble was, as usual, I was too fuckin’ good at it! They all want to fight terrorists and want to be safe. I just took out some trash. All these pussies back home want it to stop, but they ain’t got the balls or the ass enough in their britches to get their fingers in the brains of one of these bastards.

Great laughter echoed on the tape.

"Yeah, I got in there and took out that missionary gal held in Khanduhar. Not bad lookin’ if ya like yer women that way. They were gonna chop her up and send her fingers to a bunch of ministers from what I heard. Nice fuckin’ religious types, don’t ya know?

"She is saying she was fairly treated."

"She is a damned liar then or someone has their hand up her ass to make her say it. Her God will forgive her. That’s ok. But yeah, I stomped them ass-bandit’s skulls in, sure. What of it?"

"She said you punched them in too."

"Yeah? So?"

"Why did you crush their skulls?"

"Fer the simple reason I didn’t have time to gouge their eyes out, shove in cockroaches and sew their lids shut. Lemme set ya hip to something here Sparky. The world put on a big-assed sack-cloth for the Big apple. Terrible shit fer sure. They forget about the Pentagon and the folks who died there. I can’t, ya see. Being a Majestic shrink man I’m sure ya know my profile that I was adopted by that Marine in Mississippi. Well, Later in life he and his wife had a girl, Gale. I was a teenager when she was born and she about worshiped my ugly ass. No one EVER lay a hand on little Gale Alexander, ol’ son. She was everything to me. Gale was an intern at the Pentagon. Gale died because of those bastards and their hard-on for us!

"Bow thy heavens, O LORD, and come down: touch the mountains, and they shall smoke. Cast forth lightning, and scatter them: shoot out thine arrows, and destroy them. Send thine hand from above; rid me, and deliver me out of great waters, from the hand of strange children."

Again, insane laughter echoed until the voice calmed enough to speak rationally.

"When I crushed their fuckin’ skulls in I wanted them all to carry a name to Hell…GALE…GALE…GALE…that is why I was there, that is why they had to die. Oh sure, I could bullshit ya and say I was doin’ it for all the other moms, dads and kids effected by this tragedy, but I would be jerkin’ ya off. I feel powerful bad fer all them other widowers and such…but my feeling was selfish and centered on my own anger. I regret not every fuckin’ person over there doesn’t know her name…who never heard the name GALE GALE GALE and hear it in their sleep, their dreams and plans. Stompin’ in their heads was pleasure, not pain.

"Let there be none to extend mercy unto him: neither let there be any to favour his fatherless children. Let his posterity be cut off; and in the generation following let their name be blotted out."

A third time the laughter rippled out and died away.

"I only regret I couldn’t do worse than kill ‘em. Don’t look at me that way ol’ son! It is weak. Ya don’t know how it was between me and her. That little baby girl, damn, I taught her to walk, I did. I changed her, taught her to potty…the first thing she ever wrote was the word THOR in crayon. I sang her to sleep, whispering FREEBIRD to her. She used to bust out bawlin’, beggin me never to leave her. I said I wouldn’t.

"Thor, how do you-"

"If yer thinkin’ I’m gonna say I’m sorry fer doin’ the shit I done, ya better bark up another tree ‘cause I done pissed on this territory. Sorry? Fer what? To kill some of the bastards who killed my baby sister? Fuck damn Lucifer to Hell, partner! It made me feel great. I came outta that room with an eight foot hard-on with a cheeseburger on the end of it.

"They wanted to die fer their god and I just gave ‘em the chance. They had a chance to kill me, yankee imperialistic bastard that I am. Awful easy to burn a flag or throw rocks…ya saw what happened when the ol’ insane cowboy from America waltzed down their streets, didn’t ya? No line formed, no one took a fuckin’ number and believe me…anything in my grasp did not pass go or collect a fruitcake for Ramada Inn or Ramadon or whatever the fuck it is.

"I don’t give a fuck what you say or do to me. I am that I am and done what I done outta love. This world holds a lot less fer me now, ol’ son. The only person I loved was fragmented in her cubicle by motherfuckers wanting a war. The girl I would die for, that beautiful young lady with a crush on her brother, was only identified by her index finger print…all that was left. That delicate little finger that used to draw hearts on my palm in finger paints. I don’t even have a real grave to visit, only a marker. That is all right. She is in here in my heart, always. They can never get her again, damnation!

"No I never forgot my oath, dude!

"But if you dare think I give a shit for those who wanted a holy war, you must be jokin’ me! They wanted a war? I’ll give them a war, motherfucker! They wanna die for their god, that is fine by me. If I am damned for killin’ the bastards for killin’ my baby girl, then I will go down to the pit screamin’ her name forever…but they will go with me! They will never forget what started this war of mine! I wanna hear ‘em all say it as they are skull fucked with fire! SCREAM IT FOR ME! GALE! GALE! GALE!"

*****

Hank shut the debriefing tape off, having heard enough. His steely eyes stared at the massive agent Thor Alexander, still focused on his boot. The big man brushed a meaty palm down his thigh and snorted. At last he looked at his commander. Hank said, "Well?"

Thor smirked and raised his right eyebrow before drawling the words, "Yeah, but I’m feelin’ much better now."

THE END?

©2002 Steven L. Shrewsbury