Sonny Day

November 18, 2011
By Julphra BRONZE, The Colony TX, Texas
Julphra BRONZE, The Colony TX, Texas
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

There I was, sitting, waiting, and watching, with a Marlboro cigarette in my left hand. Two agents, tall, buff, wearing ray ban aviators, military watches, and with both hands behind their black suits with a black tie, sat down in the two chairs in front of me. I could tell they were both ex-military and prepared for anything, so I wasn’t going to try anything. They stared me down, their eyes hiding behind their ray bans. I wondered why they hadn’t taken their glasses off, the room was dark. Were they hiding something? Were they afraid? Or were they trying to look cool? I didn’t see why they would wear sunglasses in a dark room.
Finally, one of the agents asked me a question,” Do you know why you’re here?” “Well I guess I’m here because we’re going to have a party! Or am I wrong?” I chuckled only to be greeted with a slap. Suits take things too seriously sometimes and I never understood why. He answered, “You’re here because you’re in trouble.”
“But why what did I do wrong? Run a red light, because if I did I’ll just pay my $200 dollar fine, take the driving course, and be on my way. So unless you’ve got concrete evidence I’m out of here. This room is creeping me out.” I got up out of my chair but the other agent, who hadn’t spoken a word, got up and grabbed my arm. “Get your hands off of me or I will sue you for assault.”
He let go of me but then the other agent got up and said, “Sonny, wait!” I stopped at the door and looked at him. “What do you want? To scare me? Because you’ve pretty much failed at it. I’d feel more frightened on Halloween so why don’t you go scare some pre-schoolers or something” “Ok, Sonny you’re right. Just please sit down and listen.”
I sat down in the chair and listened this guy yack with his little, frightened, sissy voice. “Ok, the reason we brought you here is because we need your help.” I looked at him straight in the eyes and when I did he cleared his throat and looked away. While I smirked I said, “Why are you so scared? I’m just an average guy picked up by a bunch of feds, which I’m pretty sure is illegal, unless you have something on me, which I’m pretty sure you don’t.” He then looked at me.
The adrenaline pumped inside of him because he grabbed a beige folder and slammed it on the table saying, “First, off I am not afraid of anybody. Second, I do have something on you. We know all the terrible things you’ve done. We know you’re known as “The Marine” and you run a gun and drug gang.” I looked at him with a death stare, and he and his partner reacted by taking defensive positions. “If you try anything there are 15 agents outside and they are ready to take you down.” “What’s your name kid?” “Lenny, Lenny Wilder” “Ok, look Lenny, if you are going to threaten someone, you have to do it with courage not fear, because if you do it, then the person you threaten knows you are not very frightening and they will lose respect for you in the blink of an eye. So how about you sit down, take a deep breath, call your men off outside the door and let me go. That way no one dies of a heart attack because apparently I’m very scary. And change your pants because it appears you had an accident.”
Lenny sat down, in his wet pants, along with the other agent, the silent one, called off his men outside and let me leave the room. As soon as I walked out of the building I looked up and saw that the building said Federal Bureau of Investigation. The F.B.I. had been investigating me ever since I got discharged from the Marine Corps. After I got discharged, my life was over. The reason I got discharged was for drug abuse. I wanted to start a new life but no one would hire me. Not even McDonalds. There was only one job that I could get hired in and that job wasn’t a good one.
My cousin was in the drug and gun dealing business so he just hooked me up with some people and I started a new career. After my cousin got me started all I did was sell the product. I started making good money. I got my own place, food and a new car too. But after a while the higher up people decided that I could be very useful. So I got promoted, if you put it that way. Then I started making even more money. Then I got lots of ideas, not very good ones but I got ideas. I became a greedy, non sympathetic monster. I wanted more and more and more. I got so greedy I eventually became the leader because I killed the old one. I also became the most feared man in the whole U.S. and maybe even more. Even the mafia respected me.
On my way home, from the F.B.I. building, I remembered that my father had always taught me to do the right thing even if it seems scary to. He taught me so well that one night on a cold and snowy December NY night my father and I were coming back from the general store around the corner and we broke the number one rule in New York you never break. We looked in an alleyway. In this alleyway was a man beating up a woman in order to try and steal her purse. My father told me to get behind the wall, so did. I hid behind the wall shivering, and sweating. I was scared and cold, I just wanted to get home.
Then suddenly I heard a gunshot. My initial instinct told me to run but I remembered what my father told me. He told me that sometimes your instinct betrays you. I followed what he taught me and walked into the alleyway and I found my father there dead with a bullet in between his eyes and a pile of blood behind his head. My dad is a marine. He’s been on many missions and none of those had killed him. And now some bum shot and killed him and all dad did was to try and help an innocent woman. I ran home, thinking about what happened, to my mother crying and told her what happened. She cried to. My father had died helping someone, which was what he did his whole life.
I thought long and hard and I realized that he right thing to do was to help Agent Lenny. I didn’t want to disgrace my father’s legacy so, I got up the next cold NY morning, took a quick shower threw a suit on, gelled my hair, had some coffee and donuts and left my apt. around 7:00. I walked to the F.B.I building on 2nd Ave. and when I got there, I walked up to this hot green eyed brunet and asked her, “Excuse me miss, would you happen to know what Agent Lenny’s room number is. With a small giggle she said, “Room 302 on the third floor. I turned back and said, “Thanks doll!” “No problem honey any time” and after she said that she winked those stunning green eyes at me. Man did I want her number! I was going to have to get it later though because I had to take care of business first.
As soon as I got to Lenny’s floor, Lenny saw me but squirmed away. I think he was going to the bathroom so he would pee his pants again. But I walked faster and caught up to him. “Hey Lenny, I changed my mind, I’ll help you.” He then turned around and looked at me with a smile and hugged me. “I knew you’d come through, I just knew it. There is some compassion and love inside of that big guy.” “Lenny, I came here to help out the bureau not so you could hit on me. I’ve already got the receptionist downstairs doing that.” “You’re right Sonny, sorry, I got carried away.” “So let’s get started then!”
Lenny told me that he knew my old platoon was selling guns to the Al-Qaida but he didn’t have any proof. And he needed my help to proof and take down my old platoon.
4 years ago, On April 23rd, 2009 I turned 18 and joined the Marine Corps. I was assigned to the 196th platoon. I got along with everyone and rose up in the ranks quickly. I made it all the way up to Lt. I bonded with my platoon and loved them like brothers until the hot summer Afghan night of June 16th 2012, when I suspected something about my platoon.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I kept having these nightmares of my dad telling me to help people and I kept saying, “I am dad, I am. That’s why I joined the marines. I’m helping my country.” And I woke up to a pond of sweat. Once my eyes got used to the dark I realized that the barracks was empty. My first instinct was to go back to sleep but my dad’s genes kicked in and I got up and investigated. I looked out the window and found that my platoon was outside meeting these people that looked like Al-Qaida, but it was dark and I had just been dreaming so I decided to go back to sleep.
The whole week I thought about what I saw. All I had seen was my platoon meeting people I didn’t know. But I’m a very curious person so I checked the Punch-out logs and found something weird. The hours and dates were wrong, they were forged. Then I got even more curious and checked the mission log. The dates and times were ok there, but the casualty list was short. It appears that on all of our missions in the past three years I was the only one getting kills, which was impossible because I had seen some of these men shoot and it appeared as if they had killed the enemy but I guess they didn’t. But before I could get out of the archives room, someone got behind me and knocked me out.
I woke up to a headache and stings in my arms. I looked around. I was in the middle of this warehouse tied up to a chair. Then I looked behind me and a short buff guy, with a mask on his face, got his knife out and cut the ropes off my hands and legs and let me go. I got up from the chair but then as soon as I got on my feet I fell. My legs felt like Jell-o, and I couldn’t use them so I crawled to the door.
When I got to the door I saw these military vehicles leave but when I looked behind me another set of military were driving towards me except these said military police on them.
The next three weeks I slept and ate in a military jail. I was going to have my hearing in two weeks. It appears that I was drugged in that warehouse and that someone from my platoon called the M.P. and told them I was a drug addict.
When the court date came I showed them everything I found out about my platoon, but they said I was crazy and that I forged those papers. My attorney told me to not say another word so I wouldn’t get sent to an asylum or re-hab. Luckily I had a good lawyer and a good record so they cut me some slack and I didn’t get sent to prison.
Lenny is my last hope because he is a credible source and if he presents the paper to the courts them my case can be relooked at and then they can bust the 196th platoon. While Lenny and I were looking for clues and flaws in paperwork I remembered that I kept the logs. “Hey Lenny I have some Mission and punch-out logs that could help.” After I handed the papers over to him he said, “Wow Sonny these will definitely help re-open the case and if we re-open the case then I know I can solve it so give me the papers and ill fax them.” I went over and gave the papers to Lenny. He faxed them. Now all I had to do was wait.

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