The old man rocked in his chair, tilting his head slightly to see what the cheers of the television were all about.
“I don’t know why you keep looking, you’re as blind as Stevie Wonder.” Yelled his wife.
“I can see just fine.”
“Well your hearing is going to, and you are talking to a hat rack. Hey your grandson wants to know what this flag is for, you could tell him how you lost your leg.”
The little boy carried the rack of medals, with a gaped mouth of a boy on a flag, and set em down in the old man’s lap.
The timid boy said, “You won all these grandpa?”
“No boy I didnt win any of em. Winning is something that just happens, we earned these for glory alone, and paid the price. I remember shaking in my boots when we faced those cowards at the aol, Time warner building. Shells were going off all around us. I told Kevin if just a tenth of the ficleters were here it would be a cakewalk. He told me the fewer, the greater share of the glory, that fame would ring eternal for the scars we recieved on St. Lawvers day.