"It's too starched," one woman

  said to another.  "Poor thing." 

  "It's a be nice to each other phase, (i)remember(i)?" 

  "Yeah.  You're neck's all red." 

  "Almost a redneck." 

  The Quartermaster began signing allotment paperwork.  Clearly came to an issue and motioned specific people over to the field desk. 

  "Pick it up," one citizen said to another.  The citizen crossed his arms.  "PICK IT UP," a soldier barked.  The citizen kept his arms crossed.  A woman soldier bent and stabbed the piece of paper with a paperclip fish hook.  It had blown across the parking lot a little ways away from the field desk.  Since it wasn't butting in, the woman soldier had decided to act.  "What is it?" A journalist called out.  Of course the woman soldier wouldn't say.  Gave the paper back to the others at the folding table. 

  A voice exploded the still early morning soundscape.  A man.  "I PUT IT THERE!" 

  People looked at the man, minds trying to comprehend on top of higher fuel costs and then, higher food costs. 

  "YOU COULDN'T HAVE.  THAT STUFF WAS IN THE BRIEFCASE," a voice shouted. 

  "THE BRIEFCASE HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.  SECURITY, (i)SECURITY!!(i) 

  Some soldiers rushed towards the briefcase only to move everyone and themselves away from it. 

  The military had moved off and left the drawing of a hockey stick where the table had been with an ARMY keychain on it. 

  "What would be the point?" 

  A man reached for the piece of paper.  Took up the keychain and the drawing.  Contemplated. 

  "I think this has more to do with lazy assholes." Another man said. 

  "Did I ask you?" 

  "We're in a parking lot.  In America." 

  "How so?" Yet another man asked. 

  "Resource wars amongst lazy assholes who don't want to work." 

  "What about all the people who DO WORK and can't eat?" Asked a woman. 

  "We don't count in any of this," a kid with abundant bangs hanging over eyes looked up at the hockey stick drawing still being held up in the air. 

  A car drove up and sliced into a parking space.  Guys got out.  All tall, chested, and pointing fingers like guns. 

  "DON'T EVER COME HOME AGAIN!!!! IN FACT IT'S NOT YOUR HOME ANYMORE!!!!" 

  "WHY DID YOU BRING UP THE WORK THING????" 

  A big sigh.  A look at a watch. 

  "Because I DO." 

  "Here's lotion." 

  "For the bucket?" 

  "For your neck!" 

  "You know what else I learned today?" 

  "People suck and then we die?" 

  "Well, that, most people do.  But, in a wartime in Colonial days, the men were all militia and military, and," a drink of water, "They didn't have to let civilians vote." 

  "Really?" 

  "Apparently." 

  "So...we're just young people on the bottom of a big fucking pile of assholes." 

  (i)Sleep came easy(i).