Tough Day for the Army Read Free Page A

promptly dug in.
    The second thing that went wrong is that seeing this, Nelson had an immediate attack of conscience about these nice people who had been speaking to him in friendly fashions and enjoying Jürgen’s music being dosed by him and his hash-laced brownies/cookies/Krispies. However, he knew he could not tell these nice people that the delicious treats were “special,” because then when Chelsea Stubbins arrived, they would warn her and she would not partake, so thinking quickly but probably foolishly, he made a joke out of grabbing the brownie/cookie/Krispie out of each individual’s hand, shouting, “Cookie monster!” and then shoving them in his own mouth. This got a lot of laughs, and some people started taking a brownie/cookie/ Krispie just to see Nelson do it again.
    I am taking a tremendous amount of drugs , Nelson thought while he was doing this, which would spur him to the bathroom to purge, after which he would come out only to find that even more people were eating the treats, rinse and repeat, until one of the times he came out of the bathroom and found himself face to face with Jürgen, who gripped him by both shoulders and said, “You are tripping balls, my friend.”
    â€œI am tripping balls,” Nelson replied, nodding. Jürgen pinched Nelson’s wrist between this thumb and two forefingers, counting his pulse. He tilted Nelson’s head back to grab the light and looked closely into each pupil one at a time.
    â€œYou’re OK,” Jürgen said. “But no more.”
    Nelson nodded.
    â€œThis is,” Jürgen said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the increasingly strange scene behind him, “what it will be.”
    Nelson nodded again, and tears filled his eyes. He hugged Jürgen and wept into his best friend’s shoulder. “I love you so much, man.”
    Jürgen squeezed back. “Love you too, dude. Now, I gotta go do something about this.”
    Nelson watched Jürgen go back into the living room, where he turned off the music and in his best cruise director voice asked, “Who wants to watch a movie?” To which just about everyone, at least those that weren’t already completely engrossed in studying the lines on the backs of their hands, cheered.
    â€œGet comfy, friends,” Jürgen said, and then he grabbed his and Nelson’s bootleg copy of Koyaanisqatsi , which they liked to break out for special hallucinogenic occasions. “I think you’re going to enjoy this,” he said, sliding it into the DVD player. When the Philip Glass score kicked in, jaws dropped and eyes saucered, and Nelson saw Jür-gen grin and give a big thumbs-up.
    This was the moment when Lance Riggins and Chelsea Stubbins decided to show up.
    It’s hard to say if this was the third bad thing or not.
    Lance Riggins walked through the apartment door chest out, like he expected a hale and hearty greeting, but his friends were piled like puppies in front of the big screen, their minds being blown by video of an imploding building and the surround sound. One or two of them might have been openly weeping at the beauty of the whole thing, which was the point after all. Chelsea Stubbins edged in behind Lance, peeking around his arm. Nelson saw the golden blond of her hair against her navy-blue parka.
    â€œWhat’s going on here?” Lance said.
    Jürgen stepped forward. “They’re having a religious experience,” he said. “Here, let me take your coats, and help yourselves to the brownies.”
    Chelsea Stubbins slung her parka over her arm and shook her long hair free and Nelson could see little static lightning bolts arc from strand to strand.
    I am tripping balls , he thought. Lance Riggins handed his coat to Jürgen and took a big bite of one of the brownies. “Good stuff.”
    â€œIndeed,” Jürgen replied. “And for the lady?”
    Chelsea Stubbins held up her