A Good Service For Those In Service

| TX, USA | Romantic | June 19, 2012

(I met my wife while overseas. We were both deployed with an infantry company, one of the only times that’s ever happened, so we have a unique outlook on things. We’re both in uniform, and she outranks me. I’m 6 ft, 220, while she’s 5’4 and 115, blonde and very pretty. We are rehashing a particularly disturbing point of our careers.)

Random stranger: *to me, while in uniform* “Thank you, sir for serving our country. And you, lil’ miss, must be awful proud of him!”

Wife: *in an awful accent* “Well just bless your heart, thank you! Here I was, reminiscing about the time we got in that fire fight. The time we earned our combat action badges at the same time, and I had completely forgotten that I should be barefoot in the kitchen!”

Random stranger: “Well, I know you ladies don’t actually fight the battles; you’re more of a support role. No offense meant.”

Wife: “Support role?”

(She breaks into a long rant of ‘Full Metal Jacket’ calibre material. The stranger leaves, head hanging. The restaurant patrons are staring.)

Waitress: “We’re going to make sure your dinner’s free ma’am. Thank you for your service.”

Me: “I love you, beautiful, but stop scaring people.”

(I actually had to pay for my meal; they comped hers.)

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