The Regimental Servant

The Regimental Servant 2-2

Wearing shirts thrown onto the sofa, outworn chinos and raggedly jacket used by American in WW2, then set about breakfast. Today's menu is - nothing changes everyday - two toasts, sunny-side up with two eggs and crispy bacon. It's not much more than undeserved dream. Even the simple work has been difficult for me these days.

Setting toasts on the toaster like landmine, bombing two large eggs into frying pan. The moment grabbed the egg, I feel collapse of the content. Too bad. One of sunny-side up transformed to scrambled egg. Changing negative mind,crack the second egg with the corner of the sink. It sounds a few seconds ago. Today's scrambled egg will be considerable big.

The bacon baked few minutes later looks like dry meat. This is rather bark than crispy bacon. I've lost half of the appetite. Placing the browned-egg and the meat-board on a round plate, I reach my arm to the toaster - No mistake happens any further. WHAT A HELL! It's numerous impact beyond free-fall on Wall Street! No sooner had I touched the toast, it brought my finger frostbite. COLD! SEVERELY COLD! The reason was absolutely simple. I forgot turning dial of the toaster.

It is 07:35. To working place by car - 10 minutes. We should attend by 8A.M. Meal - 5 minutes, preparing toast again - 3 minutes...a mere simple calculation can irritate my mind. After all, I determined to eat bread without heat in regret. Stuck them seasoned inferior to usual, afterwards stumble so many furniture and grab tatty sand-colored beret, run away through home door. The emblem of sword having a pair of wings twisted in my hand.

Hurry elevation of shutter of the garage, ride on the dirty car so that the possessor poorly wash, insert the key to ignition hole. Trying sometimes, lazy engine emit harsh cough and its last hours bless escape in forward. Pow, puff...

"Bollocks..."

Not surprisingly the engine couldn't reborn even however kindly I encouraged. I couldn't withhold but sigh, rely myself on the driving handle. It takes 20 minutes walk to reach junkyard. No bicycle exists in my inventory. Most of all people can withdraw easily that the result is tardy. Quaint thing is that I don't feel any guilt since the fact come true. A man of 29 years old late without legitimate cause. The government forbid that "Slave" acquires military occupation...except for me. The rank is OF-1/Second Lieutenant" just given by the parent connection. A position of platoon leader of The 22th Special Air Service cannot ignore the childish failure.

Nothing to say that I am in the serious mind, it's obvious. I used to gave off sweat on forehead couple years ago, however think of fixing the car by call to engineer or myself. I know mad, but couldn't fix so far.

Getting out from the car, step into the neglected grass. Whatever the start was absolutely damn, hoping getting through the day in peace, I pursue the way to work. Nevertheless living in an advanced country, my level of happiness is located near to sea level. I, a slave don't demand welfare as a human in the slightest. But, I still hate just the cloudiness on the Town of Hereford.