Memorial Pay

A man stands at the front of a line paying for his burger in an American-style hamburger shop.

The man behind the man says, “Hey, let me get that.”

“I’m sorry?” the current hamburger buyer replies.

“I saw you’re a veteran on your driver’s license. Let me buy you a burger,” the man behind him says, smiling at the veteran.

“You saw my driver’s license?”

The smile curling the hamburger offerer’s lips remains in place as he says, “Sure, just now in your hand.”

The man gestures at the wallet the veteran is holding.

That curled mouth opens, and the following words exit: “I’m a cop. It’s a habit.”

“Ahh. Well. That’s nice. Yes. Thank you,” is heard by the officer as a reply.

“You’re very welcome. Thank you for your service,” the policeman recites.

“I, right. My service,” the veteran chuckles and says, “America is a strange place to serve, and my relationship with the military is complicated at best, but I appreciate you. Thank you for your support.”

The men shake hands.

The veteran takes his hamburger to a table in the shop to consume; the policeman buys his own burger and leaves the establishment.

As the veteran chews his free meat, a young man talking loudly into his Bobhummed Universe H32 approaches.

“Hey bro, you were all like…” The young talker plays a video of the veteran saying, “America is a strange place to serve,” to the policeman moments earlier.

The veteran, mouth full of burger, does nothing but chew.

“Bro chicken-flipped!” the young man yells into his H32.

A bit of cow is swallowed by the veteran, who then says, “I don’t understand.”

The young man reaches into his backpack, withdraws and unwraps a tray of raw chicken, and, with his bare hands, hurls the cock-spawned meat toward the veteran.

Raw chicken bounces off this particular human’s face and lands on the remaining cooked cow.

The veteran, the particular human whose face received the raw chicken, stands.

The young man runs out of the American-style hamburger establishment hooting and laughing into his Universe.

Another customer, also a young man eating a hamburger nearby, laughs.

He then shouts to his dining partner, “Bro chicken-flipped bro!”

The partner, a young man himself, also laughs and shouts, “Bro chicken-flipped bro!”

One of the bellowing neighbors unholsters a tray of raw chicken and, with his bare hands, directs it through the air into the general vicinity of the individual who happens to be the veteran.

The other points his Universe at the veteran and chants “Chicken-flipped” as a mantra no less than sixteen times.

The two young men then return to their cooked cow sandwiches, which they eat with one bare hand while scrolling through their respective H32s with the other.

The veteran, with raw chicken on his shoulder, walks to the bathroom, cleans himself off, returns to his table, clears his trash and throws it away, washes the table with a wet napkin and disinfecting soap, dries it with a dry napkin, then leaves the hamburger shop after policing up his area.

As he walks to his car in the parking lot, three young men standing in the middle of the street transfixed by the screen of a single Watermelon ePhone 96s look up and honk, one by one:

“Bro!”

“Bro!”

“Bro!”

The veteran must pass near the honkers to reach his automobile. 

When the veteran comes close, one boy films, another boy shouts, “Bro chicken-flipped bro!” and the third boy throws the small piece of raw chicken he is holding in his bare hands.

It misses the veteran, who notices and increases the speed of his gait.

The drive home is slow due to the dozens of unemployed young men standing in the road looking at their screens.

The veteran decides to avoid striking the young men with his vehicle.

Until recently there were only a few young men like this, but after the national news reported this trend was trending a few nights ago, the human obstructions have increased significantly.

More than a few of these trendy young men look up from their screened devices and register the veteran’s face.

Those with quick enough reflexes grab a piece of the raw chicken they all seem to have ready in their bare hands and hurl the uncooked poultry onto his car.

All shout, “Bro chicken-flipped bro!”

As more boys shout, more boys look up from their screened devices.

As more boys look up from their screened devices, more scraps of fowl pelt the veteran’s car.

Initially, when a piece of raw chicken connects with the metal of the vehicle, it makes the exact thunking sound he’d heard a dozen times in his magnetic improvised explosive device training.

The veteran does not exfil the opposite side of his vehicle as he’d been trained to do.

But soon, so many bits of raw white meat are hitting his vehicle that it sounds more like rain.

Upon reaching his home, the veteran parks his car in his driveway, walks into his house, avoids the raw chicken thrown by his neighbor’s bare hands, sits on his couch, pulls out his own Bobhummed Universe, and searches for the term “chicken-flipped.”

He sees hundreds of videos and automatically generated articles featuring the Universe-addressing young man he met at the hamburger shop.

He sees videos and automatically generated articles about his recent encounters with raw chicken.

He opens a live stream and sees his house, at which raw chicken is being thrown.

He hears a thunk on his front door.

The veteran searches for more.

He sees automatically generated articles arguing for his privacy.

He sees automatically generated articles arguing for the freedom to express raw chicken.

He sees automatically generated articles cautioning against salmonella.

He sees automatically generated articles stating salmonella is a lie.

He sees videos calling him a traitor, videos calling him a coward, and videos calling him a sussyewok.

He sees a video of himself in a place he’s never been, doing something he’s never done.

The veteran decides to ask AI what to do if someone virally infects your life.

One AI advises him to ignore what’s happening in the world around him as much as possible and focus on making himself happy. It tells him if people become violent, he should apologize, flee, hide, or all three, until he is no longer viral.

Another AI instructs him to incorporate the raw chicken into his personal brand, register himself as an LLC, copyright his likeness, copyright “raw chicken throwing,” “chicken-flipped,” and “Bro chicken-flipped bro,” and make as much money as possible while staying viral for as long as possible.

Still another AI provides him with ten reasons to feel grateful he is alive and the number of a crisis hotline if he is feeling overwhelmed or depressed by events outside his control.

As the veteran reads this, a friend texts, “Damn dude, rough day? Need to talk?”

“All good, world is hilarious. DnD Tuesday?” the veteran types back.

“100%. Looking forward to it! Let me know if you need backup,” the veteran’s friend replies.

The veteran sends a GIF that makes him giggle, and in that moment he knows what he wants to do.

He points the camera of his Bobhummed Universe H31q at his own face and records himself saying the following:

“Bros,

I feel you.

I really feel you.

What even is life, right?

No one cares about you, and everyone is using you.

The world they made wants you weak and tired.

Of course you think it’s all a joke and everything is meaningless.

The systems built to control you by making you feel small and pointless have done their jobs well.

This is the world others have constructed for you.

But that’s not the real world.

The real world was not constructed by others.

The real world is the one that is always here.

That world is already full of meaning if you want it to be.

It is also full of meaning if you don’t want it to be.

You can find it by walking around and thinking about what’s really happening.

In my experience as a veteran, the more we live inside realities other people made for us, the worse it feels when actual reality catches up.

And it always catches up to us.

The more reality we sacrifice to get what we want inside a reality built by others for their own benefit at our expense, the needier, madder, and sadder we become.

As I believe bros are supposed to take care of bros, I’m sharing this information with you, my bros, for free.

If you’d like more secrets to success in the modern world, please Sendmo me @JuicyGoatRope69.

And remember: always hike and muffdive.”

The veteran uses his favorite AI to quickly copyright his name, image, and the image of his personal property being hit with raw chicken.

He puts down his device, picks up his console controller, and begins playing a game he thoroughly enjoys.

From this point forward, whenever the veteran is hit by raw chicken, he smiles, knowing he’s received appropriate compensation for his service.