You. We know *you* are vice-free, dear Daily Post reader. But, or perhaps we should say, “butt,” others around you and in your life are riddled with vices: they smoke; they eat too much celery; they hog the covers; they can’t keep their hands out of the office candy bowl. Which vice or bad habit can you simply not abide in others?
Smoking is always something I tolerated, yet expressed an opinion. If someone lit up while we spoke I might say, “Aren’t you going to ask me if I minded?” If they indicated they intended on smoking no matter what, I would tell them I’ll stand elsewhere and when they were finished we could do or discuss what ever was planned. I worked in a shop for 30 years. Some were offended and some were polite at my request. But I was always certain to inform the smoker my conduct toward their smoking was not personal.
I have experienced person’s who would refuse to even speak to persons who smoked, held another political view, a schism in their religion, another race, another nationality, a particular moral view, and even dietary habits. Everyone should be treated with kindness and dignity.
Here is my short story about waking up from a nightmare only to be comforted by a nightmare.
Waking Up To A Nightmare
Kyle ran, stumbled, crawled, and hid among the jungle through the night. Explosions lit the green around him as if to guide his escape. The thunderous explosions shook the ground and shoved him to the earth like a rag doll.
He picked himself up and continued to run. Branches swiped at his face and under growth grabbed at his ankles. Where he was running, he was not certain. All he knew is that he was just running from something terrible and deadly.
Kyle fell again. The sound of machine gun fire echoed and ripped through the foliage overhead.
He crawled furiously until his knees and elbows were raw and sore. He stopped and pressed his helmet tight against his head. Something warm dripped into his eye. He wiped and looked at his hand, blood. Fingers searched furiously for the wound.
A small whole; an entrance wound. Panic – something was inside his head; lodged in his brain. Suddenly a sharp pain emanated from the top of his scalp and ran through his body.
“I must get up and move before some sort of paralysis or disorientation takes over,” he thought.
He struggled to his feet and ran forward. Tingling and a feeling of numbness streaked though his legs. They suddenly grew completely numb. He collapsed and tumbled endlessly until coming to a rest.
Kyle jerked and awoke from his recurring nightmare. He was safe now, in his bunker as shells exploded and pounded the night and machine gun fire like the clickety-clack of a train on the track lulled him back to sleep.