SITREP 0200 January 4, 2018 – I’ve tracked my target’s prey for days. I know his habits, I understand his weaknesses. Prey is preyed upon for a reason. Dug in a small ground blind in thick pine brush and straw in Southern Texas. My name is Jeremy Pruitt. This is how I get my guy.
I’m down to a quarter day ration, only 3 sleeves and a loosie left. (*16 cans of Copenhagen long-cut) Hope starts to fade with the sun and then…
“PUSSSSYYYYYYYY” echoes through the woods clearing the calm and serenity I have grown to hate. I pack a lip. Aight.
“No…no more…” his prey pleads, his body has forsaken him from leg days long ago.
My target comes into sight, naked, throwing protein powder over his shoulders in the shape of the cross. Is he giving Bambi his last rites?
“TH BLOODLINE IS WEAK. I MUST ERRADIK TH WEAKN FROM AROUN MY WEIGH ROO.”
“Craig.” I speak softly as I rise out of the pine straw and mud. “Don’t kill him, aight? Man he wasn’t built for that load, aight. If he doesn’t breed the bloodline will clear itself out, aight.”
“WHY MUST YOU SPEA TO ME ABOU WHAT I DO WIT THIS PUNY PUNY HUMA?”
I motion to my ground blind and slowly push away the camo netting revealing a squat rack with 4 plates per side, 405 pounds. “I’ll squat you for him, aight?” Before he can answer, I address the bar, exhale, stand, and I begin. It was my 5th rep and I could only see the veins inside my eyelids and I felt the white death approaching. One more. I open my eyes after the sixth rep, he is three inches from my face.
My life flashed before my eyes, championships, Heisman trophy winners, Parades, Glory.
Clearer now. Orange everywhere, banners, Pappaw Phil.
The white death.
(To be continued)