Morning Cup

1. D-Day, 0957

"Morning Cup!"

I stop in my tracks, hearing my name shouted from behind.

It's become common for me to be greeted in every corner of the streets of the military camp base, women seem to appreciate my stunning self.

Blame my body for that.

I'm grateful for that aura of mine, which assures me good and beautiful company when I'm fed up with my mates.

I love them like my own bros, but there's no Louis, Phil nor Mac when there's Nora, Emily or Madeline.

Fuck you guys!

My eyes spot the latest person I'd like to meet today.

Michelle. Michelle damn crazy Minelli.

We've slept together once or twice last month and now, she's more like a pain in my ass than a bitch on my cock.

She's been harassing me for weeks to date or meet her parents; she's been talking shit like engagement ring or marriage or I don't know what bullshit only female can focus on more than the 20 seconds I usually gave her.

Hopefully, my eyes always switch down to her breasts and I marvel at those two beautiful mounds that bounce rhythmically with her rambling, as she speaks out loud and shakes her hands and arms like the good Italian immigrant she is.

My head nods yes at whatever she says while my mind flies to the nonetheless sweet memories of us having sex.

I hate her. She's like the chewing gum that sticks under your shoe, or the stinky dog shit you can't get rid of.

But today, I love her. It's a matter of time but my life will change today. Thanks to that hot, crazy chick.

Not now, of course. As she starts to jog towards me with that ridiculous gait of hers, perched on too high heels, I try to escape her.

I wish I could disappear or turn into dust, anything to not talk to her or see her face.

I feel like eyeing her boobs will not be enough this time.

"Michelle! Nice to see you! You make the Sunshine look so pale, did

n't she, hey Cup?"

I glare at that asshole that's Mac. He knows everything about anything of my life, since we share the same room. His favourite hobby is to throw salt on my wounds and stab me in the back. Bastard.

"Maaaaac!" She whines with that annoying voice. "You make me bluuuush!" She waves her hands before her face like to cool down the air around her face.

Mac winks at me and goes on with fake flattery about her dress colour, which elicits more overplayed 'Oh my Gooood' and 'Maaac pleaaaaase!'

Please, Mac, Jesus, someone, shut her up!

"Blahblahblah, blah blah, blahblah..." she starts to speak to me but I'm already gone.

Dead or dumb, whatever.

I just come back to Earth as she puts a coffee cup in my hand, saying her favourite lame joke for the thousandth time.

"I brought you a cup, Cup!"

Then throws her head back, to let out her hysteric laugh which sounds more like a hyena's than a human being's.

"That woman knows to treat you well Cup, I can't understand why you still hesitate to marry her!" Mac opens once again his dirty mouth.

I throw him another death glare, but see with relief that Mrs Pain in my ass turns to face him and giggles before going on with her verbal diarrhea.