“Filthy maggots,” hollered the drill sergeant.
He was the drill sergeant, we were the new recruits.
“Attention!”
“-men at arms,” continued I.
“Who said that?”
No one spoke.
“Which one of you filthy maggots said that?!”
I spoke:
“I did, sir. It was I.”
“It was you, you say, eh, Rahveez?”
He pronounced it wrong.
“Sir, yes, sir.”
“Are you proud of that, eh, Rahveez?”
“Sir, to be honest, I thought it was a little clever, sir.”
“Drop and give me fifty, you dirty Mexican.”
“I’m not Mexican, sir.”
“Drop and give me fifty, you dirty spic.”
He was the drill sergeant, we were the new recruits.
He was the drill sergeant, we were the new recruits.
“Attention!”
“-men at arms,” continued I.
“Who said that?”
No one spoke.
“Which one of you filthy maggots said that?!”
I spoke:
“I did, sir. It was I.”
“It was you, you say, eh, Rahveez?”
He pronounced it wrong.
“Sir, yes, sir.”
“Are you proud of that, eh, Rahveez?”
“Sir, to be honest, I thought it was a little clever, sir.”
“Drop and give me fifty, you dirty Mexican.”
“I’m not Mexican, sir.”
“Drop and give me fifty, you dirty spic.”
He was the drill sergeant, we were the new recruits.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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