Chapter 1

My name is Stan Miller, I'm five foot ten inches tall, a hundred and sixty pounds of raw hate. Why is that you ask. Because I'm just back from the holy war in Iraq. Did holy war confuse you. Well that's exactly what we've gotten ourselves into over their, but enough of that. I'm here to tell you my story and why Life isn't what you make it. I didn't set out to make my life hell by being shot to hell and almost losing my right leg in Afghanistan. Or coming home to find out my loving wife of just over a year had gotten herself knocked up.

I set out in life to get married and have a family of my own. I got part of that picture right, by marrying a Blonde haired, blue eyed woman named Trudy, that I fell in love with the first time I saw her. I knew from that moment on, that I loved her. We dated and after four months we became engaged, two months later we were married. Then the twin towers came down and I felt it was my duty to put my time in as a soldier. I joined the Marines took basic training and was sent to Iraq. I was gone a little over a year.

When I arrived back in the states my wife met me and we couldn't wait to get all the way back home before renewing our love for each other. We stayed two nights in a hotel, never leaving our room. God I loved making love to her. She had a body most men would be willing to die for and she couldn't seem to get enough of my cock, so we spent two days and nights making up for a lost year and a half.

On our way home she suddenly became quiet, I could tell she had something on her mind that was really bothering her. We were about an hour away from home when she said, "Stan, there's something I need to tell, but really don't know how."

I didn't like the sound of this already. My first thought was, she's found somebody else and wants to leave me, but then, why would she spend two days and nights wrapped tight around my dick. I said, "Well honey it must be important, you've hardly said a word since we left the hotel. Is there somebody else Trudy?"

"My god no Stan, I love you more than anything in the world. It's just that I don't really know how to explain what happened. The doctors think it's in one of our genes, but there not really sure. I know it's going to be somewhat of a shock, so I wanted to warn you ahead of time. It's really not what you think."

"Damn it Janet, spit it out. I'm a big boy now, just back from a war where I've seen a lot of shit Trudy, so I think I can handle what's bothering you."

"I'd rather wait until we get home so you can see for yourself. I think that would be the best Stan."

"Okay, I guess I can wait, were almost home." Twenty minutes later I walked into our home. Trudy's parents and two sisters and her sixteen year old brother were all there waiting to great me on my return. After all the hugging, hand shaking, and tears of happiness were over, I said, well it's time for my big surprise. I saw everyone exchange glances, that's when I heard a baby cry. I looked at Janet, she looked at me with a troubled look in her eyes. I said. "What is it Trudy, is our baby deformed? What the hells going on? It seems I'm the only one here who doesn't have a clue."

Janet, s father said, "Now Stan hold on, don't get excited, it's as much a mystery to us, as I know it will be to you. We know how much Trudy loves you and how much you love her and were sure, once you think about it, everything will be okay.

I looked at everyone standing there, then walked into the bedroom I'd heard the crying coming from. What I saw was as shocking as what Trudy had warned me about. In the crib was, what I guessed to be about a two month old baby, with black curly hair and it was quite obvious by the color of it's skin, Trudy had left it in the oven to long. I didn't say a word, as I was having trouble swallowing the lump in my throat. When I came out of the babies bedroom, I headed straight towards the bedroom I shared with my wife and I guess, who ever else she chose to spend time with. I had started taking what clothes I wanted out of my closet when Trudy came in. "Stan what are you doing? It's really not what you're thinking."

She came in grabbing my arm, tears running down her face. "Trudy!!! right now I just want you to get the fuck away from me. I've been taught to kill things I hate and right now I hate your guts. You're a cheating fucking slut, you go out and get yourself knocked up by some nigger and then try to get me to believe it's in one of our genes. Fuck you Trudy, just fuck you." I'm out of here you cheating whoring bitch. I don't need you, or that kid in my life. You better go find out which one of your black boy friends, put his seed in you're belly and get him to take care of his kid and your sorry ass.

After I left the house and got settled into a motel, I went out and got drunk for a week or so. I started feeling so bad I finally said, enough of this self pity shit, it's time to decide what to do to try to get my life back. I got a job as a bar tender and it was okay, didn't pay much but the tips were pretty good. A couple of the cocktail waitresses were willing to spend the night whenever I felt the urge. The sex was pretty good but it was lacking in feeling, no real emotion. Then about four months later I met and started seeing a woman who came into the bar one night. We started talking and I took her out after the bar closed. We went and had breakfast at an all night diner and it was a nice change for me. We started seeing each other on a regular basis and became committed to each other.

One day about a month later, I was sitting in one of the hotel restaurants when I saw her and some guy get up from one of the booths and after paying, walk over to the elevators. While waiting for it to arrive, he kissed her on the lips, which she didn't seem to mind and returned it quite willingly. As they entered the elevator I saw them kissing again, this time both had there arms around the other. After lunch I went to the bar, told the boss I wouldn't be coming in anymore and to send my ck. to my box and left. By the time I was supposed to come on duty at the bar and she would be coming in as she always did to see me while I was working. I was a hundred miles away, heading west, to southern California. Needless to say I never saw her again and truthfully, I didn't really miss her, just another cheating slut.

I kicked around California awhile, but the economy was so bad, I couldn't find a job that paid enough to even pay the rent on a decent place. After thinking about it for awhile I thought what the hell. I don't have a damn thing to lose, so I joined the Marines again. This time they gave me a free ride to Afghanistan.

I didn't really give a damn what happened to me once I got their. I just wanted to kill. The rage I felt from what had happened back home in my life, left me not caring what happened to me, as long as I could deal someone, a damn good dose of pain or death. It was this mentality that almost cost me my life. I was sent home shot to hell, with my right leg not being of much use any longer.

Once I got back to the states I started drinking heavy every day. I couldn't hardly drive a damn car with my bad leg. I went job hunting and found out not many places needed a one legged ass kicker. Then one day I was walking by a motor cycle repair shop, when a guy rode up on a home built, three wheeled thing he had built out of an old Volkswagen car. I started talking to him and he explained he had built it himself, to fit his handicap, which turned out to be much like mine. I asked him how much it would cost to have one built just for me.

He said. "Come on into this shop right here and talk to the owner, he's a pretty damn good guy and likes to help people out. I explained to him what had happened to my leg and how hard it was getting in and out and driving a car was. I told him it didn't need to be anything fancy, I just needed it to be made for me and be dependable that's all. Two months and around ten thousand dollars later I was riding a Volkswagen trike, built just for me.

After riding it around for about a month to make sure all of the bugs were out of it, I stopped by the cycle shop and said my goodbyes, explaining that I had decided to hit the open rode. It felt great to get away from drinking all the time and to feel the wind in my face and see the open country side. I headed north. I wanted to see Montana and Wyoming, the Dakotas, I wanted to feel the freedom of the prairies and the great Rocky Mountains. I decided it was time to begin my new way of life.

I would ride until I felt like stopping. I didn't have any place I needed to be. Some days I would ride three hundred miles, the next day I may only ride fifty.

If I happened to stop in some little town for a bite to eat, or maybe a beer or two and found the people to be friendly, I'd stay the night. I found by going into the local watering hole, I could usually find someone, willing to let me park in there yard for the night. It might cost me a beer or two but what the hell, it was cheaper than any camp ground and a few times, I even got lucky with the gal working in the bar. It seemed women alone in a small town, find there aren't many single men to chose from and most of them, not being worth choosing.