LITR 3731: Creative Writing
Student Fiction Submission 2005

Mary K. Clements

April 4, 2005

Party’s Over

            It was 5:00A.M., no sun, cold, wet, and slightly breeze.  We were all on the bus piled up like cattle in a box car.  There were about 60 of us, all different in our own way.  There was a very stale smell in the air mixing with the slight odor of perfume.  The look on all the faces was one of a small child riding in a car for the first time, bewildered yet dazed.  Quiet murmurs of came from the front of the bus.  It was still such a low tone you could not understand what the conversation was about.  Then we pulled up to a red brick building with some of the brightest lights ever imaginable.  The bus slightly jerked before completely stopping, and then the doors opened.  The silhouette of a large man came onto the bus.

“Good Morning “said the silhouette. “What a beautiful day we are having today wouldn’t you agree?”

No one said a word. I am not sure if it was in fear or just because we were all very tired. With a slightly more enforcing tone, the man said, “Everyone needs to get off this bus and line up outside, Now!”

We all exited the bus and lined up on the side walk that had outlined footprints we were supposed to stand on.  I thought this was going to be a chance to stretch our legs and have some space, but no.  We were about 2 inches apart from one another again gathered up like cattle. 

“Alright, now that we have everyone we are going to move inside and begin the long process of your future careers.  Follow me.”  He led us away.

It felt like we were cattle being herded into the pen before getting slaughtered.  There was no conversation within the herd.

  The very first stop we made was in front of a wall with three doors. Another large man came over to where we were standing and said:

“Good morning I am Staff Sergeant (SSG) Wilson and I would like to welcome you to your first day of the rest of your life. As you can see, there are three doors to your left: we call this the amnesty rooms.  Everything you see listed on this sign is not allowed while you are visiting our lovely accommodations.  If you have any of the following items in your possession you must turn them in.  We will be checking for knives, lighters, matches, pornographic material, any type of flammables, sodas, food, snacks, blah, blah, blah, no cigarettes…”

Wait a minute did he just say no smokes, has he totally lost his mind? This is not fair at all.  Does this man know how many of us are smokers and how ugly a nicotine fit is going to be, not to mention the cost of our habit?

“No radios, no tapes or CD’s.  Now once you enter into the room you will see a metal box.  You are to discard any of the items I have just read to you into this container.  If you are caught with any of the items you could face criminal charges. Any questions?”

Then out of no where a hand slowly raised.

“You have a question?” 

The voice, which is just a face in the crowd, asked, “Do we get reimbursed for the items we have to give up at this time?” 

SSG Wilson replied, “You sure do. You will get 50.” 

The male responded, “Only fifty dollars for the items?”

“What item are you concerned about?”

“Two actually sir, one is my dope and the other are the three cartons of smokes I brought.”

In about a blink of an eye before anything else was said SSG Wilson was standing toe to toe with the male who had asked this question. I thought he was going to die.

“Are you kidding me with this question?” asked SSG Wilson.

“No way man, I am deadly serious.”

“Come with me so we can go and get you your refund of fifty.”

“I think the dope alone could be worth fifty dollars” aid the male

“Apparently you did not grasp the concept of what the definition of fifty is.”

Both SSG Wilson and the young man went outside for about 20 minutes and then reappeared.  The young man’s face was bright red with beads of sweat just pouring out of every pore.  He was winded and gasping for air. SSG Wilson asked him if he was dying and needed to go to the hospital.  The young man said nothing.  At this point everyone was done with turning over all of the items they might have had in their possession.  The only things I had to turn over were my smokes and my lighter.

            The group was herded over to the next area, which a classroom with chairs and desks built together, which is very uncomfortable to sit in let alone trying to squeeze into them.  I started to sit down, then heard a female’s voice just bellow out “Did I tell you to sit yet?”  I said absolutely nothing.  I felt my face burning and knew it must be red.

            The rest of the group scurried to find a desk to stand next to.   Once everyone was in place, the voice yelled out “Take your seats.” 

Everyone was so jumpy at this point you could hear all of the moans and groans from trying to fit in the little desks with no space.  Some of the desks made this weird noise from sliding a little as people tried to get in to their seats.  It sounded like fingernails down a chalkboard.  Then, I finally saw the person to which the voice belonged.  She was about five foot five with medium athletic build and boots so shiny you could see your reflection. Her uniform was so pressed you could probably use the creases in her top as lethal weapons.  Her hair was put up in a perfectly tight bun with no strays hanging anywhere.  All I have to say is, I was very intimidated.

“My name is Sergeant First Class (SFC) Jones and I will be assisting you in getting your file put together for your futures with our great service.  The folder in front of you has…”

“Troop in the third row with the Kojack hair cut, did I tell you to open the folder yet?”

He replied, “No ma’m.”

“Don’t call me ma’m I work for a living, you can call me Sergeant Jones.”

“Yes ma... I mean, yes, Sergeant Jones.”

“Why did you open the folder Kojack?”

“I wanted to look inside.”

“You do not need to worry about it.  I will tell you what is inside when you need to know.  Let me tell all of you something.  You no longer have mommy and daddy or even grandma looking after you.  There is a man who owns you and he is your new Uncle.  His name is Uncle Sam.  Are there any questions?”

The entire group responded in a monotone voice “No Sergeant Jones.” 

“I don’t believe I heard you at all.”

Then with a thunderous yell the group responded with “NO SERGEANT JONES!”

“Much better” she replied. “There just might be hope for some of you yet.”

“As I was saying, there is a folder in front of you, and at the top you will see empty blocks. You are to write in your social security number.  Is there anyone who does not know their number?” 

            No one dared to raise their hand and ask.  But finally one girl did.  And to everyone’s surprise SFC Jones was very nice and helpful to assist with this. So then after the one hand went up about 20 to 30 more went up.  SFC Jones was just as pleasant with the other people as she was with the first female.  We had to fill out so many pages of information; I wondered how much of this it would take for people to really know me.  I decided it just did not matter. 

“If I had to give you your social security number, I would highly suggest you memorize it because this is how you will be identified along with your last name,” SFC Jones said.

“Back home I am sure you all had nick names, but I could care less.  Here in our great service and school you will only call each other by your last name.  Any questions?”

The class yelled a thunderous, “No Sergeant!”

I really had to think, are all of the people in this building going to end any type of with any questions?  This was getting really old.

We finished our paperwork and now the thought of going to bed was looking better and better as each second ticked by.  It was hard to believe it was only 8:00 a.m.  It seemed to have been hours, and the thought of food was plaguing my mind.  I wanted McDonald’s or even Burger King.  I thought I had seen one while we were driving to this building about a block away, but these thoughts were fruitless because we weren’t even close to finishing.  Speaking of fruit I could eat a watermelon. 

We were told by SFC Jones to place our bags in lockers inside these rooms. The males went into the room on the right and the females went into the room on the left.   The  females room had gray concrete walls with an off gray cement floor.  The beds looked like something from an old black and white military movie.  There was a lingering odor that reminded me of  a high school locker room, ass and feet.  The room even seemed to be colder than outside.  I could not believe that I missed home, and for the first time I realized the party’s over.

We lined up against the wall and then followed SFC Jones in a single file line outside in the cold to the building behind the red brick building.  As we were approaching a very familiar smell finally hit me - FOOD.  Finally, we had a chance to eat.  We entered a room that looked like a cafeteria.  I picked up a tray, held in both hands in front of me, then picked up a fork, spoon and knife.  Then, I set the tray on this rail and slid it down towards people standing behind the counter eagerly waiting to feed all of us. 

“I would like some eggs sunny side up, toast with some grape jelly…” I said.

“What are you doing troop?” asked SFC Jones.

“I am getting eggs the way I like them and some toast with grape jelly.”

“I don’t think so. You eat what we give you. This is not club med.”

“Yes Sergeant.” I replied.

            As I moved closer to the end, I was handed a plate with eggs so runny I thought they would get up and run off the plate.  A piece of ham so dry it should have been jerky and something which resembled maybe hash browns.  I wanted a breakfast biscuit from Burger King, but again this was clearly not going to happen.  Then, after I got my plate I had to sign my name and the last four digits of my social security number on a piece of paper.  I then had to scurry to get some coffee or milk or even sodas.  Then, I sat down and actually got to eat.  At this point, though, I just wanted to get some type of sleep, and so did everyone else. 

            After “breakfast,” we left the building and went back to the red brick building.  We single file in the door and lined up against the wall.  Now, we were going to be issued our linen.  To be honest, I was not exactly sure what they were talking about and could have cared less.  Just give me the bed.  After we received our linen, we were told to go back to the sleeping area and wait to be given instructions on how to make our bed.  I thought this must have been a joke, I did not think I was going to make it without falling on my face.  Maybe if I was lucky I would hit the cement floor and knock myself unconscious and finally get to have some sleep.  I rethought the idea because, it would hurt really badly. 

            SFC Jones came into the room where we were all waiting patiently. 

“Alright troops we are going to learn how to make a rack.”

            I thought to myself, “I thought we were going to make our beds, what good is a rack with sheets on it and how is it going to help me get to sleep faster?”  Then , I saw SFC Jones heading towards me asking for my linen.  I gladly gave it all to her so I could see how you make a rack.  She walked us through all of the steps.  My bed was the example, for once something was going my way.  My bed was being made for me, how sweet.  Then it happened SFC Jones became mean.

“Ok troops, that’s how simple making your rack is, any questions?”

            There it is again, any questions. 

            No one had any.  Then I received the biggest shock of my life.  SFC Jones pulled all of the linen off my bed and told me to make it.  Now how fair is that really?

“Yes Sergeant” I replied. 

But an even bigger shock was that all of the other females got into their beds and went to sleep.  Not one person helped me.  I knew this whole plan was really beginning to suck.  After I made my bed it was probably about 10:30 a.m.  Just as I laid my head onto the pillow it seemed as if we were getting up for lunch.  We ate, came back, slept some more. Then, at 5:00 p.m. we ate dinner, came back, cleaned up the areas and the bathrooms, and then went to bed.  Lights were turned out at 9:00 p.m. per SFC Jones.  I began thinking, before I fell asleep, if this is what boot camp was going to be like, this will be a piece of cake.  Now I’m hungry, again.

            As we were sleeping so soundly after the first day of the rest of our lives, it happened.  The lights were turned on and there were trash cans being kicked around in our sleeping area.  To be honest, I was looking for the snooze button.  In this dream state, there was no snooze button.  There were females yelling at other females, girls running around trying to figure out where they were and why they were here, and even who they were.  Finally, we all got organized and got dressed.  Outside we formed a single file line and waited for someone to tell us what was going to happen today. 

“Good morning, I am Sergeant Carter and I will be taking you to receive your free clothing and I believe you will be pleased with the choices we have made for all of you,” said a tall black man, who was blocking any possible warm rays from the sun, or even any view of the sun.

            We marched, walked and kind of scuffed along over to another building where it was wall to wall clothing, but not the cool kind.  It was green, brown, tan, and really dark green with these really weird designs.  These were called our BDU’s, or Battle Dress Uniform.  When you go through the line, the first stop is this old woman who takes all of your measurements and then scribbles on your folder, the same folder I was not to open until told to do so by SFC Jones. 

As I went through the line, people would throw the clothing at me as I went by then I had to go an get my boots and try them on to make sure they fit.  One of the girls got really cocky and asked “Could I get these in a light brown so they won’t make my feet look so big?”

“What in the hell did you just say troop?” SGT Carter replied. 

“This is not Tiffany’s or Macy’s we do not cater to your comfort level we cater to Uncle Sam’s comfort level for you”

            Before I could even think it in my mind there it was “Any questions?”

I just wanted to scream “Do you people know any other way to phrase this particular statement?”  There were a few of us who laughed at the comment, but were told to shut up and get ready to leave and head back because the best was yet to come.

            Once we had returned from getting fitted with our BDU’s and boots, SGT Carter told us to get out of our civilian clothing and get into the BDU’s and pack all of our things because we were leaving. 

I thought “Leaving and going where?”

            In no time, we were packed and waiting outside on the same spot we had entered.  This was not making any sense to me.  Why were we leaving?  Then a bus pulled up and we were told to get on it.  We rode away from the building and headed further down the road.  There were lots of trees and green grass, and other people who would have ever guessed there were others just like us?

            The buses pulled up front of this white three story building with really skinny windows trimmed in brown.  The grass was perfectly clipped with no trash to be seen anywhere.  Now I was scared.

A medium build man entered the bus wearing clean, pressed BDU’s and a Smokey the Bear hat.

In a very soft and gentle tone, the man said “Good Afternoon, I am Sergeant First Class Wilks and I would just like to welcome you to Fort McClellan.  I hope your stay with us will be a pleasant one. If you believe you might have any problems please let us know.”

A split second later, it was like his head had spun around and he had fire coming out of his mouth and nose while he yelled “Get off my bus, get off my bus right now!!!”

We were all moving in all directions trying to go forward through the front door, trying to see if we could fit through the windows of the bus, opening the emergency exit falling all over the place.  It looked like it was a bus full of body parts with no where to go. 

As we were exiting the bus, we found out he was not the only person here and where in the hell did all of these other people who looked like SFC Wilks yelling at us for doing nothing come from.  Party’s over.

Fiction Responses

            The two e-mails seen below are from Karen and Jennifer.  I was very appreciative and have made all of the corrections necessary to make the story better.  I read and re-read the story and had my husband listen to it to find other areas which could work better.  The same problems Jennifer and Karen found were the same as my husband.  So I took their suggestions and the Fiction below is the updated version.

Okay, I lied, I just found your paper and read it so don't resend it to me!

I really liked you overall story line.  It was humorous and serious at the same time, and it had me really laughing.  I have edited some grammar and stuff but will give that to you in person as it is easier than trying to highlight corrections and e-mail them.  A few suggestions though.  Read over you paper and try to eliminate some of the "very"s, "just"s, "really"s, and especially the "then"s.  You don't need them and they sound repetitious.   Spell out any numbers under ten, at least, maybe higher, I cannot remember.  Read it out loud, slowly, and pay attention to the order of words or phrases in some of your sentences.  You could make it much more readable just by reversing the order, cutting and pasting.  Be careful of your tense agreement.  You are mostly in past tense but switch to present sometimes.  About page three you stop indenting paragraphs.  You don't have to, but then change the beginning.  There are a few run-on's that you should find as you read out loud.  And finally, as you think I am tearing your paper apart, you are missing a lot of question marks.  Once again, as you read out loud, I think you will find them and either rephrase them as statements or change the punctuation.  I am sorry if it seems I am tearing you apart.  I really liked the story a lot and with some minor things fixed it could be very readable.  The only confusion I had was the ending.  What was the problem? 

Now, aren't you glad you sent it to me?

Karen Daniel         

Mary,

Ok, I really like your story! I could feel the anxiety and there were some really hilarious moments.  Thanks for sharing it with me.  :)  I think you should say more about the mom thing.  Maybe develop that as a thread throughout the story.  I made some suggestions... There were lots of punctuation issues which I'm sure you knew.  Everything I suggested in pink with green highlights.  I hope you don't get freaked out by all the green, but remember that a lot of it is my own personal comments that I wanted to insert.  Anyway, I hope you get something from my help.

Jennifer