Originally Posted by
Bourbon
Son, you don't know what creepy is. It's a place we keep buried inside. We keep it far away from others. It's the secret sauce we all steep in, and I'm here to tell you what creepy is.
My first bout was the death of my grandfather. For years after that I used to sit and listen in awe as I heard my grandma tell us all stories about his incredible root structure. I was so proud to have come from a line of such strength. That knowledge got me through many tough time in my life. It was only after years of maturity and growth that I learned she wasn't referring to his strong constitution and solid moral fiber.
The second time was in the Tet Offensive of '68. Son, you ain't seen a shitstorm till you seen 50,000 NV regulars and Vietcong running at you like Jesse Owens going for Gold. That had the same affect on us as 10 full servings of black beans with a Metamucil chaser. Drinking and partying came to an abrubt stop when mortar fire lit us up like pissing on an electric fence after chugging a gallon of gasoline. Son, those scars don't heal. Yeah, I can tell you about creepy.
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