“…Angered at the loss of yet another member of my platoon,” continued the corporal, “I’d go wild with hate, killin’ as many gooks as I could to avenge this death and assuage my fear of dyin’ if I didn’t get on the stick ‘n’ start kickin’ ass fore Charlie kicked mine. Till the day I saw a pregnant gook, whom I’d mowed down, in one of my rages, get shot in the head by one of my cohorts in crime who, in his own words, merely did so ‘to put the f.…n’ bitch out of her misery’ as she lay their on the ground beggin’ me, with an outstretched hand and the most pitiful look on her face, to help her, I never realized what a beast I’d become. And from that day on, I hated the beast in me.
“But I never got a good look at the true nature of the beast till some time later when, in the heat of a skirmish with Viet Cong guerrillas, this massive gook pops up out of nowhere, with an AK-47 in both hands, and starts mowin’ us down like flies. Pinned down by the fire of both friend and foe alike, I lay there under the cover of a thicket of tall grass, like a dead man, waitin’ for the big ape to come chargin’ by, that I might rise up with a fixed bayonet and drop the motherf.…r fore he kicked our sorry asses. Havin’ expended my last clip, I had no other choice but to play possum and hope like hell he’d fall for it. As the few remaining members of my platoon riddled the f.…n’ ape with round after round, I couldn’t imagine what was keepin’ the motherf.…r goin’, till I looked up and saw that shit-eatin’ grin on his face, at which point he toppled over on me and died. Drenched in blood, I struggled to get out from underneath the motherf.…r so I could see what manner of man or beast this was. Confronted by that same shit-eatin’ grin, when I rolled ‘m over, I knew this was no mere mortal lyin’ here before me, but rather the very beast that inhabited my own body. As I came to the realization that too many people have died at the hands of the motherf.…r, I grew to hate the beast even more…”
