His dinner of greasy fries and hamburger was churning in Ranny's stomach as he lurched homeward from the bar. The unaccustomed addition of cheap bourbon shots to his normal drink of beer alone was not helping either his digestion or his balance. With every shambling step, his mood darkened.
Ranny's life to date had not been one of great happiness - on the contrary, it had been a most dismal existence. It began with his father's departure when he was barely a toddler, leaving him with no male role model. Instead, his mother had controlled his life not only at home but by her presence at his schools, doing her job as caretaker. Teenage years at high school had been unpleasant, because he was a slow learner and a socially inept loaner. His break from that had seemed to come when he joined the Army, barely squeaking through the simple admission tests. But here, too, life did not improve for Ranny.
The boot camp drill sergeant was Ranny's first introduction to a strong male role model. But this unlikely father figure drove the new recruit's self-esteem even further into the ground, just as he physically drove these hapless youths into the ground through long forced marches, hours of slogging through knee-deep mud bogs, and all the other tortures which were supposed to turn boys into men.
"Pick up that pack, Worlham, you sorry piece of shit. Didn't your Momma ever let you carry a sack of groceries? That pack's only 80 pounds. Load it on your worthless back and get moving, or you'll be doing these 20 miles with 100 pounds!" was typical of the sergeant's communications yelled in Ranny's face.
His relations with his military mates were not much different from those with his classmates in high school. Weary from the physical exertions forced on them through the day, the recruits spent most evenings lying on their bunks, and lying about their supposed conquests back in civilian life and about the times they'd get laid on their next leave. When Ranny did drag along with some of them on leave in town, the main activity seemed to be getting drunk and getting in fights with the town boys. After boot camp, he was shuffled around to various stateside posts, never getting to see any foreign countries or any action. When his two years were up, he gladly left the military life forever, and returning home, found the job at the Cow Palace.
The job which had ended today with his ignominious firing.
But his army stint had opened up for Ranny an unsuspected talent and love, unfortunately in an area of little use in civilian life. Ranny loved guns, and they loved him. Despite his having grown up in a rough part of San Francisco, and with lots of little would-be gangsters in his schools, Ranny had never handled guns or had anything to do with them, through lack of opportunity. In the military, guns were thrust on him. His sheltered life under his mother's wing had given him little occasion to deal with mechanical things, and he was surprised to find that he had a natural knack for understanding and mastering the mechanics of firearms. He always led the group in speed and accuracy in stripping and reassembling handguns or M-16's, doing it blindfolded to the amazement of his peers and the grudging praise of his instructors.