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THE LITERARY
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(issue #35) 

 

 

Brandon Davis Jennings

Obnoxioneering in a Not-Yet-War; Dakedo, Sayo-fuckin-nar(o)?, Mr. Roboto

 



  

In order to pass the time in a not-yet-war, there are many activities to choose from. I will not list them all here, but believe me, there is a list, and from that list, I chose to be obnoxious. And one morning at the Prince Sultan Air Base Tech Control, a couple months into my grueling1 ninety-day tour, I sat at my computer, searched through the illegally-acquired music bank, and clicked on "Mister Roboto." It screamed from the desktop speakers, and Sergeants and Airmen alike smiled because the sun hadn't come up, and playing any song that loud that early was obnoxious. A weak-willed obnoxioneer might've cut the song off then. I, however, am an obnoxioneer willing to take things as far as possible, so I let the song play until Technical Sergeant Williams ripped the speaker cable out of its jack. This ended the song and showed me how effective that song was at eliciting a physical response.

 

I walked into the Tech Control the next day and said, "Mornin' Sergeant Williams." Then I plopped down at my computer, cranked the speakers all the way up, and blasted "Domo Arigato, Mister Roboto" again. Sergeant Williams shook his head, and other Sergeants and Airmen smiled at how this song was still obnoxious and then went on about their peacekeeping business. After a much shorter interval than it had taken the morning before, Sergeant Williams walked over and tugged the cable out of the jack. He might have said something like, Cut that shit out, or, I hate that song, or, What the hell is the matter with you? Perhaps all he said was, Really? And if so, my unspoken answer was absolutely, Yes.

 

The third morning everyone was at the shop before me. They'd gathered around Master Sergeant Loftus. His arms were crossed over his chest (or resting on his remarkable belly, depending on how you want to look at it). And along with the stale air that swirled about the room, a somber black hole seemed to suck everyone toward Master Sergeant Loftus. It was too early in the morning for tight-assery, so I sat at my computer and clicked on "Mister Roboto," but no sound escaped the speakers.

 

"Jennings," Sergeant Loftus said. "Get over here."

 

I dropped to the sandy carpet and inspected the jacks to see if the cable had been unplugged. Each day, I thought, these bastards would try to foil my plan to continue this obnoxious behavior---- behavior I intended to continue until I was placed on a plane and flown the hell out of the desert, so I could just get back to drinking myself to sleep, and counting the days before I was discharged, so that I could do something more important with my life. To really hinder my ability to maintain this same level of obnoxion, my colleagues could've deleted the song from the hard drive, but even then, I'd have found it somewhere on the Internet sandwiched between pornography and criticisms produced by people who produce nothing but criticism. They could present a new challenge every day for the remainder of the tour, but nothing would stop me from being obnoxious if I really worked at it. I would get through this boring tour of duty by creating my own pointless conflicts. I would be victorious.

 

"I'm not asking you to come," Sergeant Loftus said.

 

"Be right there," I told him. And I grabbed the cable and fed it down through the guide-hole in the console and then took a knee and yanked the cable through. When I plugged the cable into the jack, a robot voice chanted Domos that echoed over the comically-futuristic synthesizers of the Styx rock opera. I crawled out from beneath the console, stood and knocked my hands together to beat the sand grains off my palms; the measly sabotage had been overcome with ease. I smiled at Sergeant Williams but he didn't acknowledge my joy. Airmen and Sergeants dispersed and went about their business silently. Master Sergeant Loftus squeezed my shoulder and said, "We've been indefinitely extended." Robotic Domos bounced around my skull. "When the song ends," he said. "Go get us breakfast." But I didn't wait. I left before the song was over and haven't listened to it since.

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1. Sarcasm    

 

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Brandon Davis Jennings is an Operation Iraqi Freedom veteran from West Virginia. His work has appeared in Black Warrior Review, CrazyhorseHayden's Ferry ReviewThe Berkeley Fiction ReviewMonkeybicycleNinth LetterPassages North and elsewhere. His chapbook Waiting for the Enemy (now available as a Kindle Single) won Iron Horse Literary Review's Single Author Chapbook Competition in 2012, and he won the 2013 Thomas J. Hruska prize in Creative Nonfiction. He lives in South Bend, Indiana with his wife Tina, their daughter Shannon, and their two dogs Finn and Macha. He plans to revolutionize the art of house-husbandry by 2017, and his first book of nonfiction, Operation Iraqi Freedom is My Fault, is due out later this year with Little Presque Books.

 

"Obnoxioneering in a Not-Yet-War; Dakedo, Sayo-fuckin-nar(o)?, Mr. Roboto" was originally published in  Cry Baby (TLR Early Fall 2013).


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