The unibrow

When we weren’t swearing at each other over Risk, Hearts, Monopoly and Spades, things would get a little johnny knoxville down range, especially since Jackass was one of the few dvds we had on rotation at the sleep tent, and one day I was handed an electric razor with a mission and a sleeping target.

Light an eyebrow moments later, SPC B was grumpy that he’d been got, and so to assuage his butthurt, I took the razor to my own face, shearing off one eyebrow, telling him to stop crying and that it would grow back, see I’d just done it to myself and I was fine. My squad sergeant begged me to let him do the other one so I’d be symmetrical, but since it didn’t violate the regulation, I told him in professional terms to fuck off, and leave me with my ragged space.

Later I would notice other troops in the chow tent bearing the same signs of having a little jackassery to bend the time. As my eyebrow grew back in, I’d see and get a knowing wink or nod from others with ragged, patchy, eyebrows as we wore our mischief in solidarity.

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