For all I cared, the grass could grow until I got a citation from the city for failing to keep it mowed. My spouse didn't have the same view, unfortunately.When I got back it was almost lunch time, the kitchen was empty, the diary was lying there open to today's entry, and there was no sign of my spouse or Julie."Hello?"No answer."Anyone here?"Still nothing.It took me a minute, standing there, before I saw the note taped to the microwave. At the mall, it said, {back by dinnertime. XXX}OK, that was fine. I went back to the diary. I had squirrels, big ones, in my gut. I also had a hard-on in my pants. I turned to the previous page. It had today's date on it.God, it began, I can't believe what I saw!My hands were shaking so hard the diary fell to the table. I stared at it as though it was a live grenade. In fact, I felt pretty much the same way I'd felt back in basic training when we'd done live grenade practice. That afternoon my hands were sweating so bad I could barely hang on to. They were supposed to be going toward the coast where the captain was to board a ship, perhaps at Amboy or New York, although he refused to say, but were traveling in exactly the opposite direction when they fell into our hands. Our captain had his prisoner write out a pass for his wife and her driver and then bundled him off to the headquarters company and pointed to me."You brung 'er in, didn' you?" he demanded, licking his full lips as he looked at the girl. He was obviously tempted and his codpiece bulged. I admitted my guilt with a smile."Then y'kin take 'er back, an' no funny stuff." He handed me the scrawled note and the Marine's fat purse. "Gi' 'er whatever's left when y'finishes, delivers 'er safe 'n sound. Save some t'git y'self back." He gave me a nudge, half drunk as usual. "And go empty-handed, no weapons, unnerstan'? Git shed a''er soon as y'can. Get back 'ere." Yes sir," I said with a sloppy salute, having no intention of doffing my bayonet and hoping I could conceal a.
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