It is too damn hot. I swear this ceremonial helmet thing is boiling my brain. I can feel it turning to goo. God, now my nose itches. Would anyone notice if I gave it a quick scratch? Oh, who am I kidding, it’ll end up on YouTube. And the next kid that comes up to me and puts sticky fingers all over my boots will find out if there are bullets in this gun. I cannot fathom why I chose this as a career. If anyone had told me three years ago that for eight hours a day I’d let pigeons poop all over me, I’d have laughed.
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction challenge hosted by Rochelle at http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/