“I still see forty-seven.”“God dammit, kid. I said you can’t see forty-seven. What fucking number do you see? Don’t give me any shit,” he ...arked.I was getting apprehensive, so I closed my eyes hoping that when I opened them I wouldn’t see forty-seven again. I knew he had the power to immediately grade me as “Good to Go to Viet Nam”. My heart was pounding as I opened my eyes. Fuck.“Well, kid, what’s the fucking number?”“Forty-seven?”“No, you little shit. The number is either forty-four or. I don't. I do remember Ganda shaking me and telling me that we have to get going if we want any breakfast before meeting the property lady about the lease on the apartment. At that point, it is all ass and elbows as we get showered and toileted and dressed.At breakfast, Ganda had her chocolate shake. Krissell had chicken and rice. I had eggs over easy with corn beef hash, OJ and coffee ... and no, hash is not a foreign dish in the Philippines, they love their corned beef hash. Go. More

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