Patient tells me a fascinating story. Seems he's at a forward fire base. He's off, and chilling in his tent. All of a sudden, a breathless dude barges in, says, Hey man, CO wants to see you, like yesterday. Patient says, What's up? Guy just says, you gotta go, now! Patient things, oh hell, what did I do. Goes to CO. CO basically lays it out for him: there's a guy in that tent over there, he's got a 45 in one hand and a grenade with the pin pulled in the other. Says you're the only one he's willing to talk with. Patient doesn't have any idea why this is. They were friendly, but the guy was friendly in general. So, hell, he has to go in there. Long story short, he sits there talking to a guy for 8 hours, trying to talk him down, and the whole time the dude is holding this freaking live hand grenade with the pin pulled and thinking about killing himself. Finally talks him down, and gets the guy to put the gun down and hand him the grenade. He says that it was the most nerve racking thing he's ever done, taking that little green ball of death from the guy and hoping that the spoon didn't fly off into the wild blue yonder while leaving only death behind it. Finally gets the thing in his hand without the spoon flying, and takes it outside and throws it into the woods, where it detonates. Pretty crazy story. One other thing about this patient: his relative used to be one of the ones illustrating the original D&D resource books. Tons of original art on the walls, unmistakable 'flavor' to them, just amazing and obviously experimental art from the time they were putting the books together.
Other thing: was in Big Lots today. Got out of work early, and was buying some lil gifts for the girlies. I'm kind of like that, a gift bringer for my ladies. Food treats, of which Big Lots is stuffed full. Well, I'm in this one isle when I let out this horrific broccoli and hummus fart that I'd been sitting on all day. I love broc and hum, but it gives me gas like heck. I take a digestive enzyme to keep the gas down, but it generally eventually culminates into me forming one monster fart at the end of the day that smells like I've got a couple of rotting corpses up my bunghole. ...and here comes the gas bomb. No problem, just me in the isle. Oh gawd, horrible, even to me the maker. I mean, just lethal, and maybe with specific gravity. But then... The curse of the fart, where even if you were the only one in the entire solar system when you farted, suddenly a busload of nuns and girlscouts comes right into your AO. Only this time it was a scruffy black dude, also looking for treats. Aw hayl naw, I'm not going to be here when scuffy duffy hits the stank wall. I make say past him nonchalantly and curve around the end cap into the next isle, only to hear scruffy hit the Zyklon-B and gag, then start cursing like a motherfucker. Worse, his friend comes to check on him and repeats the behavior before they both bolt the hell out of there. Immediately cracks me the hell up, and so I also bolt, two more isles over, so that they don't hear me snickering. But then I'm in the potato chip, peanuts and crackers isle, and this old warhorse looking chick comes around the corner to see this freaky middle aged man - me - standing in the middle of the isle holding a bunch of bags of health snacks in my hands and laughing my ass off for or at apparently nothing. She immediately rotates and eases the hell out of my isle. Not going to deal with crazies on a Wednesday. Aw hell, I got to laughing so hard tears welled up. Dang fart curse. Nobody gets any peace because of it.