"Wreck that," Indeed...

Sitting this afternoon at Burger King, on lunch break, with Privates Oz, Hall, and Lafour. They don't have cars, so they've begged a ride with me. We're sitting down to our respective meals when past the windows goes walking a slender redhead into the Post Exchange. As expected, heads turn, and within minutes, I'm neck deep in bawdy commentary.

"Shit," says Lafour.

"Fine as hell," says Hall.

"Damn," chimes Oz, "I would so wreck that."

"Me too." Lafour this time. "Where you goin', baby?" The woman walks by. She can't hear us through the glass, but I'm sure she can guess the vibe. Eventually, the heads go back to their food. A brief moment of silence ensues, and I smirk as I take a sip of my chocolate shake. I wait for the perfect moment, and then I finally speak up.

"You realize," I casually note, "that that was the Captain's wife, don't you?" I'm referring to our company commander, a tall man by the name of Haskewitz.

The heads shoot up like prairie dogs from their holes, mouths stuffed full of lettuce and beef patty.

"Really?" says Lafour.

"Really." I nod.

Private Oz responds with, "bullshit.". I simply smile at him and raise an eyebrow. I sip at my straw. His expression changes slightly.

"You're serious."

I grin.

"I am."

A trio of faces look at each other, suddenly grateful for the layer of window between us and her.

I snicker, and dunk a cluster of fries into my Zesty sauce.