*Priority S-H-I-P*

I growed up on a farm in Pennsylvania. There ain't much to tell 'bout it cause it didn't last too long. When I was eighteen, I enlisted in the army and died in Europe fightin' Germans.

We was dirt poor, and in the winter I'd get a job to help us out. My last job was in a bakery deliverin' pies and cakes and things like that. Those were the good 'ole days, but we was still dirt poor.

I met Pricilla then. She sure was pretty. She was the best girl I ever had because she was the only one I ever had. That was before the war went and messed everything up, I mean for everybody.

So one day the boss calls me over to the office. "Mule," he says. That's my name. It's short for Samuel, but everyone calls me Mule 'cause my Pop gave me that name. Anyways my boss says, "Mule, I want you to take this cake over to old lady Fossett. It's her birthday again this month." He snickered when he said that because she was sort o' nuts, and had a birthday every so often. We all laughed at her 'cause of it. I think she was lonely. That was pretty sad, now I think of it.

I used to think my name was Mule 'cause I was hung like one, but Pricilla let me know it weren't the case. She said if mules were hung like that there wouldn't be no mules around. I told Pop that and he just looked at me and said, "Boy, you is about as dumb as a fence post. Mules can't sire."

Pop couldn't read at all. All he could do is numbers. He knew his numbers. Knew how much things cost, how much feed and gas we'd need for the year. Like that.

Because I went to eighth grade, I always read the paper to him 'n Momma. She always told me that I should go to college, and would glare at Pop when he snickered. "Shut up you ol' fool. Boy can read can't he?"

Sometimes I wish I'd never enlisted, figurin' how things worked out, but at the time it seemed like the right thing to do. They asked me what I'd like to do in the army, and I said, "I dunno. Kill Krauts?" They put me in the kitchen. That's alright. Momma taught me how to cook.

I wasn't in Germany three weeks and I got myself killed.

We had to take turns patrollin' the area and don't ya know my first night I got shot in the throat. Blew half my face away. When the medics came to take me to the hospital, my throat was split wide open and half my jaw missin,' and my tongue laid across my nose. I got a long tongue. Sarge thought that was why I was called Mule, 'cause I had a tongue long as one. I could almost touch my eyes with it.

"Those fraulines' gonna love you Mule," he'd say all the time. "They sure gonna like that tongue you got."

"Yes sir sergeant sir," I'd bark back stiff as an ironing board. I sure respected that man. He taught me how to do things I never knew people could do. "Ain't no way that son-of-a-bitch Kraut is going to live after that. You ever kill anybody jack ass?" the sergeant screamed at me. He was spittin' everywhere.

"No sir," I barked stiff as a board. I wanted to wipe the spittle off-a my face.

"But I castrated plenty of pigs, sir." I smiled when I said that. I don't know why I smiled, I just did. "With my teeth...Sir." I almost forgot to say, 'Sir." I never smiled again 'cause he promised he'd shove my, "goddamn freak tongue," up my "pigshit nose," if I did. Good 'ol Sarge.

The military shipped my body home in a pine box marked "Urgent *Priority Ship.*" No frills. The box was delivered to the train station in Hazelton and Momma had to drive the truck into town to fetch it, cause Pop was dyin' of the consumption.

I'm supposed to be in the here-after with all the other dead people, but I ain't. All I remember is open'n my eyes and see'n a real bright light. I felt all woozy like, and peaceful, but they never gave me no morphine, least ways I could tell. Guess they figured I was already a goner.

Well I don't see much need for morphine. I mean back home if we got hurt, Pop would make us work it off. One time when I was ten, I was help'n him out with the tractor and when all of a sudden he starts the engine and my hand was still in it try'n to tighten up a nut, and that sucker starts a roarin, and I got my pinky caught in the belt and it just snapped off as slick as you please.

Oh boy I started a hollarin'. Pop said later I sounded like a stuck pig, for sure. He didn't look too worried or nothing, he just grabbed my hand and shoved it into the dirt 'n then he grabbed a piece o' twine and bundled it up till it stopped bleedin.'

Then he says "We got's a lot of work afore us boy. He talked real poorly like that all the time, but he got his point acrost – like my sergeant. Neither one of them talked real good, I mean Sarge, he swore all the time, but you understood 'em both all right. So my Pop n' me worked the rest of the day till Momma called us in for supper.

Well, Momma nearly fainted when she saw my hand all covered in mud 'n blood. She was gonna hit the old man over the head with a fryin' pan, but he ducked outta the way. No one got dinner till she was sure I was gonna live till mornin'. There weren't no hospitals around, and old Doc Bartlett was always off somewhere fishin' or deliverin' babies or sleepin.' He was gettin' on in years, and after him, there was no one.

I went to bed feelin' bad that my Pop didn't seem concerned about my finger - like it was a bruised knee or somethin' - not like Momma was, maybe 'cause she made such a fuss. But then after I blew out the lamp, and just about sleepin,' I heard the door open. It stayed that way for a while, the light from the hall seepin' into my room, and I could feel Pop standin' there, just lookin' at me.

He never done nothin' like that ever before. Never since either.

When Momma got the pine box home, they never looked inside to see if my body was there. Well, I wasn't, which is why I reckon I'm still hangin' round. If they'd-a opened the lid, all they'd-a seen was my uniform and a Purple Heart medal all laid out like I was wearin' 'em. Poor Momma.

Pop died shortly after I got home – or didn't get home. There were a lot of people at the funeral: ol' Doc Bartlett was there. So was Pricilla. Hell the whole town showed up.

I had one last chance for him to see me before he left this world, but somethin' kept me from sayin' anything. He sat up in bed and I was standin' right there lookin' at him. We just stared at each other for a bit, then he said one word. Momma was the only one there and she heard him.

He was smilin' at first, but then looked all worried. I think he knew somethin' I didn't. I think he knew why I wasn't in the box, what happened to me in Europe. Ya know, when he got up off that bed after he passed away an' all, he didn't look sad anymore, like he knew I'd been hangin' around the farm all that time. It got real bright in the room, but Momma didn't notice. The light was comin' outta' him; he lit up like the Moon. I knew he was gonna leave me and it scared me. I didn't want him to go. Not without me.

It wasn't till the wake I heard Momma tell everyone there why Pop gave me the nickname Mule. She told them that after I had lost my finger when I was ten, he came down to the kitchen and looked at her.

"Old man, why you cryin'," she asked him. She said he told her how bad he felt about me losin' that finger, how I never made a fuss, how I kept workin' with him till time for dinner came. "He was proud of that boy," she said. Said Pop told her I was as strong as a Mule. "That ain't no boy Ma," he said. "That's a man."

Real simple.

She said to everyone at the wake, "At the end, it was if my boy was in that room with us. Pop sat up like nothin' was wrong with him. He looked across the room and said, "Mule," like he saw him standin' there."

When I heard that, and saw how Momma balled, and the others comfortin' her, it got real bright in that room, and then I had lights comin outta my fingers.

I guess that's all I needed to hear.