Gregstas First assignment
Here it is for what it's worth. Was suffering from writers block funnily enough and this is what came. No sex - sorry. Definitely no spell check or grammar check or proof reader was harmed in the production of this story.
Reflections
He stood at the window watching the rain fall and the affect the wind had on the trees. The weather matched his somber mood. He sipped on the Bourbon in the tumbler savouring the sweet and sour taste it left in his mouth. His mind drifted back to happier times when things seemed simple. Partying with friends and not caring where he woke up. The succession of women who shared his bed. Waves that would make a Pro Surfer green with envy. That was twenty years and more ago though, an eon, at least that’s the way it felt to him now.
Now he was on his second marriage, had a mortgage that would worry a saint, the washboard abs had given way to a middle aged paunch and his doctor told him that if he didn’t reduce his stress levels he would be a candidate for a heart attack.
As he reflected on what had been he chuckled to himself. He had experienced things that Joe Average would pay money to do. His time in the military had given him the opportunity to experience adventure and meet so many characters that in the normal course of events he would have never met. It gave him a sense of discipline and pride in himself that he had somehow missed during his upbringing. It also exposed him to ideas that he would have never considered had he stayed in the comfortable rut he had been living in before joining up. Even though by the time he finished his service his body was broken and his mind somewhat the worse for wear he was glad to have had the experience.
His mind drifted further back to his apprenticeship as a bricklayer. Those young heady days when he was young, ten feet tall and bullett proof. Strong as an ox and could carry eight bricks, compressing them across his chest as he did so. He remembered his first employer and master in the trade who stood five feet five inches tall and had short mans syndrome. He chuckled at the memory of telling him to take his job and shove it. Sick of the abuse that the man dished out because of his insecurities, but also remembering that the training that he had given was top shelf and set him up for the remainder of his apprenticeship. He remembered how when he had finished his apprenticeship he had actually called him and thanked him for the training he had given him. The subsequent job offer had taken him by surprise but had been gratifying. It confirmed in his mind that there was no substitute for good training. This had also been borne out in his experience in the military. The saying “Train hard, fight easy.” remains true to this day.
He glanced out the window again and the rain was still falling. It reminded him of a song by Uriah Heap that he loved and he chuckled again. That was back in the seventies. His generation had been too late for Woodstock and the sixties and set about taking their revenge for their parents lack of timing by going crazy in the seventies. Sex, drugs and rock and roll were alive and well back then. He remembered drunken nights and laying in some garden vomiting the contents of a five dollar bottle of Cinzano along with what little food he had eaten. Brief moments with teenage catholic schoolgirls, kissing passionately, fumbling with bra straps and sharing the smell on your fingers with your friends.
Waking up at five in the morning, grabbing your surfboard and wetsuit and walking the couple of miles down to the beach to be greeted by a mill pond instead of the six foot surf you had all dreamed about and discussed the night before.
Such were the days and nights of the seventies. He remembered his introduction to the evil weed. He was at a friends older brothers place and staying the night. He felt very mature and like a man of the world even though he was only fourteen. A tenant of the house and a friend of his friends older brother had asked him if he had smoked dope. No he had never tried dope but being the man of the world he was, had tried pot. The guy had looked at him knowingly and asked him if he would like to try some dope. Gee that dope was heavy stuff but yeah he’d try it. And so he was introduced to the world of pot smoking. It seemed so cool and forbidden back in those heady days of the seventies.
So many memories, so many experiences he mused as he finished the bourbon. He looked outside and noticed the rain had stopped. The wind had eased and he went outside. The wind had swung round, it was offshore, he didn’t hesitate, he grabbed his long board and wetsuit, headed down to the coast and hoped he wouldn’t be greeted by a mill pond.
