I woke up, upside down looking at a woman covered in blood, piss and shit. A tight slap on my behind and I started crying. Emptying my lungs of fluid. I was cleaned of the birthing fluids and swaddled in a blanket and handed to a tired looking woman.
"How adorable, my little boy. I shall call you Tesco."
I cried out louder. 'Tesco?! The fuck kind of name is Tesco. Bitch you better smarten the fuck up!'
"Ok not Tesco, hmm let's see…"
In that time a man walks into the room. "Is that our son? He's adorable just like his father. Did you name him yet? Please tell me you didn't name him. You have the worst naming sense."
"Hmph, I tried to name him but he refused."
"What did you propose for the name?"
"Tesco"
"Smart kid"
"How about, Cassius? Cassius Jordan."
"Cassius, I like the sound of that. CJ for short. Let's go with Cassius Jordan."
'Thank fuck for that! Ali my man thank you for looking out for me.' (A/N Cassius Clay ->Mohammed Ali)
"So do you think you'll be ready for the expedition next week?" My mother asked my father.
"Yes everything is ready, although Zald is giving me a tough time as usual."
"Let him be. Stay focused. The Behemoth was a tough one. But the Black Dragon is still roaming free."
"I know, just rest, the birth has taken a lot out of your already fragile health my dear. I'll leave mother and child to sleep, I still have preparations to make."
"All the best dear." My mother said tiredly.
And that was the first and last time I saw my father.
*****Reincarnation process.*****
I was on my death bed. I could feel it. Breathing was getting harder. Body not responding anymore.
Master Sergeant Wilfred Banks
United States Marine Corps
Service Number 1989549
Born April 7 1946. Died April 7 2021.
Born in New York, to an average American family. Father served in WW2 and Korea where he was killed in action. Mother raised the 5 of us on her own. We worked after school and did what every kid would to to make a bit of money. Delivered newspapers, stocked shelves, washing cars. Anything to get by. Out of the 5 of us I was the only one to enlist. I was smart, just not book smart. My oldest brother he went to Annapolis Naval Academy. Being second youngest I looked up to him so I enlisted in the marines.
Boy when mama found out. She was both proud and sad. Now two of her boys were in the military. My younger brother wanted nothing to do with the military. And my sisters, they were smart and wanted to do something other than work in a factory or be a housewife.
I enlisted in the Marine Corps in 1964. 1965 we got shipped of to Vietnam. That's where I learned what the world was really like. Made look up to my old man even more. I can tell you what it was like, but you honestly won't understand. The apprehension when you're in the jungle. The fear between getting off the helo and finding cover in the trees and underbrush. The shock of seeing the man next to you dead as you try to move to a new position. Knowing that despite winning the firefight, you have been playing into the enemy's hands all the while. That's when I knew I was in my element. War, it's one hell of a drug.
On my rotation back I applied for a selection opportunity for Force Recon. Honestly it wasn't that hard, looking back on it. But when you're there holy hell. It's the toughest 2 days of your life. The training for the role is a lot tougher. That's not to take anything away from the men who quit and dropped out. I understood it wasn't for everyone. But boy did I have a good time there.
Then back to Vietnam. As a Force Recon Marine. The ops and the shit-shows we bore witness to, really made me wonder what the fuck was going on. Like seriously who gets the bright idea to send in a recon squad to observe a installation and then napalms the fuck out of it when said squad is still there?
Anyways, I continued to serve in the Marines. Got my jump wings and my scout sniper designation. Basically, I was what Hollywood portrays the marines as. Alas I was not superman. The Purple Hearts piling up in my drawer are a testament to how much your body can shrug off if you're focused.
I retired after 30 years of service. I had a family, and kids who were making their way in the world. My sons are both in the military. Ones a marine helo pilot. The other regrettably joined the Air Force. My daughter has a good head on her shoulders, she's high up in some investment firm. Thanks to her, life was manageable after my wife's passed a few years ago. Hopefully my kids are alright after I'm gone. This Covid circus needs to end. I can't see my family for more than a few hours each day. The things I want to say. To tell them I love them and to say sorry for all my short comings. Just to say goodbye.
*****Present day*****
I woke up, and remembered everything. About my past life and my family and how much I wanted to say goodbye. I couldn't remember their faces. But I remembered everything we did together over the years. Teaching the kids how to ride a bike. How to drive. Giving my daughter the "no dating" talk.
So what, if I may ask, am I doing as a goddamn baby! Honestly I really don't know if I'm dead or I'm just reliving my life a final time before I die. From birth to death. I remembered my training as a marine and as a spec ops operator. The survival training will come in handy depending on where I have ended up. Even if it is a dream it's better to be prepared.
'But how can I understand the people speaking?' It doesn't sound like English, but I somehow understand the gist of what they're saying. The tired looking woman who I believe is my mother tried to name me Tesco. Tesco! Tes-fucking-co! Thank god I got a proper name. Hopefully I'm still a male.'
'Oh, what's this expedition? Behemoth? Black dragon? How much cocaine did the doctors and nurses shoot me up with? Wait what was I on? Morphine and OxyContin. Right.'
Ok so my father just left and mama is tired as hell. Fuck it, I'll figure it out when I wake up.