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Jan. 24, 2007 T and I were drinking in his backyard. It was mid summer, and he was that kind of host that really takes care of you, really goes all out. If you are at his place, you are there because he approves of you, and you are king. So we sat there and it was comfortable and he talked about his vegetable garden. I asked a few questions here and there. I told him that I felt like drinking something stronger. He brought out something in a Crown Royal bottle and it was someone’s homemade something. I asked for a shot glass, and began. I told him that we had to go together on it. He said no, not with that stuff, because it was pure fire. Fire water he called it. So I went alone. I asked him what he thought about Iraq. He was from there. He told me that Iraq didn’t have much of a chance without Saddam. He said the only chance was to bring back Saddam. Saddam was a great guy to hear T. He couldn’t for the life him figure out why Saddam did not go out fighting, guns ablaze. He kept getting stumped on that. He was so sure of himself on everything, and I mean everything, not just Iraq, but he kept getting stumped on that. He couldn’t figure out why he came out of that hole without firing a gun and going out like that. I told him that that whoever Saddam was or wasn’t, that he was trying to live to fight another day. My words didn’t reach him though. They didn’t mean anything to him. He told me other things. He was a driver for the family. He said that it was Saddam's sons that were the problem. He said that one day, as a group of cars drove up, he had made a mistake. Usually, (and I have no idea how these things work as I am just going by what he said) the way it went was that Saddam was in the fourth car, or something like that. The point was that he was never in the first car, or even the second. So T had been talking with the other drivers that were standing there, and they didn’t salute the first cars. They came to attention only after the first car or two had passed. Then they saluted the next cars, figuring they knew what car Saddam was in. Well he was in the first car that day. The convoy stopped, and one of the sons got out and held a gun to T’s head and told him how dare he and that he was going to be killed. T said he realized this was his death and that he was practically shitting his pants. Then the son kept screaming, and holding the gun there, and told T that the only reason he was still going to be alive was because he had been a driver for the family for so long. If not, that would have been it. There was not much I could offer to T’s relating of this event in his life, so I kept drinking the firewater. T told me again and again how great Saddam was, and that it was the sons that were trouble. He said not too many people could hold the type of gun Saddam did and fire it into the air with using only one arm. That particular gun has too strong a kick, but Saddam could do it. The next time I saw T, by chance, it was a morning and it was about 10 a.m. He asked me if I wanted a drink. Since he didn’t know me, and only had a few times to judge by, the night of the fire water and the Saddam story being one of them, he thought I drank like that all the time. I smiled and told him no thanks, that I was actually not a drinker really, and not at ten in the morning for sure. He said okay, but then offered again. He didn’t believe me, and thought I was just being shy. T was good, but a different type of person. He really had a different outlook on things. He had a good vegetable garden though. It was small, but you could tell he knew what he was doing with the peppers there and such. Those summer nights like that can be fun, when they come around. ------------ Email Brian Michael Barbeito: Brian1750@Hotmail.com Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED! |
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