Dad always told me I'd get myself killed in some horrible, far away place - and, evidently, I've set out to prove him right about everything!
I signed up for the Exploration Corps.
So stupid. And, now it's too late to change my mind. That damn idiotic contract is bullet-proof. I've signed it and now I belong to the corps.
Dougie was leaving. He told me I had a month to find a new roommate because he'd joined up with the corps. At first, I was laughing at him. I told him that he was gonna get his ass chewed off all alone in some stupid star system and that he'd bleed to death alone thinking that he should have stayed at home and started that band we've been talking about.
But, he just shrugged it off. Dougie's good at shrugging things like that off.
"They've got clones and shit." He told me.
"But, it still hurts to get eaten alive," I told him. And, he just laughed.
He wanted me to take him out on 'one last night on the town' before I dropped him off at the depot in the morning.
"Night on the town" - HA! Burkston isn't much of a town and a 'night out in it' consists of driving to the one bar in town and drinking watered down beer until you get a sharp pain in your forehead.
But, he's my roommate. And kind of a friend - I mean, I don't really hate him. So, I took him out to the bar and we both got sharp pains in our foreheads.
"You should sign up," Dougie shouted at me over the music. We were probably 3 pitchers in and he had this wild look in his eyes I'll never forget. Even as I'm being devoured by a blue-haired alien dog on planet Zippy-Do-Da-Day - I'll still remember it.
"Sign up for what?" I asked. The pain in my forehead had already started.
"The corps man, the corps." I laughed at him. I couldn't help myself. The more I laughed the more beer I spilled and the more beer I spilled, the more I laughed. Other people started staring at us - which made me laugh harder.
I finally caught my breath, "Dougie, I'm going to be a musician."
Dougie rolled his eyes at me in a way that made me rethink whether or not he was actually a friend, "Joey, you got no future as a musician. You don't even own any musical instruments."
"I got that kazoo."
"You're a waiter with no plans for the future. You're going to end up pushing a mop for the rest of your life. You'll marry some heifer from one of the outer planets and some day one of your kids will kill you by pushing the ladder out from under you while you're installing your new surround-sound system."
There was a lull between songs and when he finished talking it went pretty quiet. I wanted to be pissed but for some reason I wasn't. It must have been the booze because in that moment I believed his dumb ass. I got all freaked out and I was all like, "Shit, you're right, what am I doing?" And he told me to come with him over to the depot to sign up.
If only I'd gone to sleep! If I'd slept on it I know I would've changed my mind. But, of course, I didn't. We stayed out all night and I drove him over to the depot - and sure as shit - I signed a goddam contract!
A legally-binding contract. A permanent contract that cannot be renegotiated. I know this because they warned me like 3 times before I stupidly signed it.
I ship out on the 21st of next month - I'm going into Explorer Training first thing in the morning. Hopefully, they'll teach me how to look unappetizing to blue-haired dogs...
My band was gonna be called Joey Dougie-Doug.
I have another friend named Doug.
I wonder if he wants to join the corps...
