This week will be spent almost entirely in the pursuit of two cover stories. The first is a bit about rice rockets for Oakland magazine. The second is about Scott Cory, and Travis will be helping me out.
Travis woke me up this morning by extracting the wallet from a young man on the street. He kicked the poor bastard's teeth in; the screaming roused me out of my dreams of wings that worked. The young man was badly bruised, and Travis contiued to kick him even after the money and credit cards had been removed. Despite my protests, Travis assured me that this was the wway that the military worked.
Later. Travis was shop lifting a box of Mallomars, and again he sited this as his reason. I am beginning to think that the military is bad for him.
For example this past weekend, V, Travis, myself, and V's parents all went to big basin, Travis spent most of his time wrestling nuts away from squirrels and shooting arrows at out-of-state tourists. I think the boy is in need of leave from the army in a bad way.