Membership: Unknown (Lets Keep it that way)
Height: 5’4 ??? That was before the war in Iraq (Yup I’m short, got an issue see the complaint department)
Weight: (None of your bloody business)
Apparent Age: (I am old, no need broadcasting it)
Archetype: (The Mightiest Little Decker!)
Preferred Weapon: (Keep Guessing and you will still be wrong, and btw this is the Complaint Department)
Bio: Okay for starters let me properly introduce myself, I am Doctor Edwin Forest and some call me Crazy Ed; well only one nut ball from England does and for starters Edison and I are very good friends. I am simply going to jump the gun here and post my own biography…..or Autobiography to be accurate, before some snot nosed brat gets their britches in a twist and spews hate and lies about me on this “Oh So Secret Node”.
Now where do I start, well for anyone who actually cares about the truth I was born in London England during the nineteenth century…….yes readers that’s right Edwin here is one of the unlucky Englishmen to get stuck with that damn needle during my service to King and Country. I am I happy about it……..NOPE!! So where was I, okay I was born during a time when being poor was a death sentence…..it was a cold winter night in 1896, okay exact date January 6th, 1896; yes I can remember that far back. My father worked as a Butler and my mother was a Housekeeper and they had a serious “Problem” on their hands……..ME!! So not to bore you with the details my father left service and started working as inn keeper, and mother well she was sacked when her pregnancy was discovered and would simply become a housewife to my pop……this wasn’t going to end well, seeing they both didn’t have a pot to piss in and I was going to be a serious burden on the both of them.
I was born in a backroom of the local pub “O’Leary’s” where my father rented a room for his family, he worked up the street at the posh hotel as a bellhop…….yes I know I said Innkeeper, let me get to that part. He made shit for a living and mother basically helped clean the pub at night to offset the rent and get some scraps to eat……and low and behold here comes their pride and joy on that bitter cold night, my first breath was frozen air and coal smoke from the burner in the room……ya I didn’t have it easy and to think war would become a escape from HELL!!
I wouldn’t see a doctor till I volunteered for the Army……hell I wouldn’t learn to read till many years later, and look at me now a Doctor of Robotics and other things as I have a few doctoral degrees. Though back to my growing up, I would not really grow much as I was malnourished, started smoking at a very young age and well started drinking beer and wine when I was off the nipple as it would be safer than drinking the polluted water in our one room hellhole. By the time I could walk father would make me earn my keep and basically I had to sing for the patrons at the bar and get tossed a few shillings for my time…….yes thats allot of money at the time for the basically homeless. As I got older I would work very dangerous jobs mostly on the railroad shovelling coal into the coal car, working on the roads cleaning up horse shit and other nasty jobs not fit for a human to do especially for the slave wage I was being paid.
Crime yes I knew crime, I was a pickpocket and a damned good one….not proud of it but a fella needs to eat. I mugged people, robbed stores and ran three card mote scams, yes I was a bad kid……but look at my upbringing, I grew up in a pub, didn’t go to school, was being raised by two drunks who hated me…….and hated each other as I ruined their good lives in service. So yes they took it out on me and quite often, father would beat the ever living shit out of me if I didn’t bring home enough money for the bacon……yes BACON! Mother would burn me on the coal stove when I talked back or simply shoved soap into my mouth……ya that really fucking sucked; and whats worse is I would end up getting Polio yes…..that fucking disease that cripples you and can kill. I was lucky that I would beat it and only suffer a few lasting affects, I had a mild case and yet that didn’t stop the torment from father and mother, it simply made things worse as they kept it hush,hush out of fear of being tossed out onto the street.
A local doctor took pity on me and my situation and would treat me for free if I did unthinkable things to him…….yes you can keep your mind in the gutter….again not proud of it, but it saved my life and was better than being chained to the coal stove at night so I wouldn’t touch fathers tobacco. Now you heard my sob story and hence the reason I am little off kilter, though in reality I am less Crazy Ed and more Grumpy Ed and for damned good reason…..my father seriously was an evil man and he ended up selling me….Yes Me to the fucking doctor that was raping me daily for a pocket full of pounds and his silence; this is when my father killed the pub owner, put the murder weapon in mothers hand and alerted the authorities of the crime. He than had the gall to testify at her trial and look like the hero in the end, mother was found guilty and sentenced to be hanged by the neck till dead……..yup I am ten at this point and my last memory of mother would be watching her get hanged as we were allowed to witness the execution. Yup that fucked with my young head a bit, though being at the prison was better than being chained to the wall in the doctors basement for experiments and forced sodomy.
Basically the only time I was allowed out of the bastards basement would be to rob, steal and well make him his money back; meanwhile my now widowed and childless father would use the money he got from me and the reward money to buy the damned pub we once lived at and turn it into a halfway house……hence an Inn and become an Innkeeper; he would remarry to a women of class and he would go onto live out his life…..well his life would be cut short by a short little angry bastard that would cut him ear to ear. I was pardoned by King Edward for that killing as it came to light he framed mother and sold me into sexual slavery……yup before I left for the war, I got my revenge on both Doctor and Father, one I killed (On the Record Self Defence) and one I ratted out to the Bobbies and well he got his and from what I heard quite often till his execution……to bad I missed that one, well war had broke out and I was doing my civic duty to King and Country; I wasn’t Yellow and hell the Royal Army had to be better than the shit life I already lived…..boy was I wrong!
I was seventeen and full of patriotism, every bone in my body was screaming “Kill The Krouts!” like every red blooded Englishmen at the start of the Great War in 1914 okay I might have lied a little about my birth year in the start……but I do need to keep somethings private and if you have any form of lower school education you can do the simple math…….1914 -17 = 1897; okay I was actually off by a year so sue me…….or was I actually 16 when I joined the Royal Army……I will leave that one in the conspiracy stage, also I didn’t have an official birth certificate till I was in the Army; thank you to my deadbeat parents for having me in the back room of a pub in secrecy……..remember I was the root of all their problems, at least thats what I was told numerous times.
Now if you think being a kid and shipping off to fight the German threat was some sort of romantic venture, well your damned wrong; it was bloody terrifying, a few weeks of training, given a uniform, a pack and a gun and told kill…….ya we were prepared and not to mention many of England’s soldiers where sickly or underweight boys do to the famine of the time. So into the trenches we went seeing the cavalry division failed so epicly, yes the Pale Rider and the Invincible One did keep the Royal Cavalry from being shredded but still even they were forced to dismount and enter the trenches and become a Dough Boy.
Why Dough Boys you ask……well the clay, clay dust, lye and our tan uniforms made us look like we were simply made of Dough; tough we didn’t giggle when you poked our bellies. The Trenches were hell on earth, it was cold at night and well still cold during the day until the summer when it was hot but still wet…….yes wet all the time, water, blood and well somethings need to be forgotten add the smell and one would wish he was bathing in the London sewers in the heat of the summer. Now add that unless you were an officer and “I Was Not!” you slept in coffin shaped holes in the trench wall basically right on top of the other men…….hey if you didn’t like your mud mate wait a day he might be dead. Yup life expectancy in the trench was short……really short, if you survived a few weeks as an enlisted well you were a GOD.
Next through in the dead calm…….yup the type of calm that came shortly before a chemical attack, this was when you prayed your gas mask worked and you would be fast enough to put it on or death would be a sweet release from the agony of drowning on your own fluids or having your skin melt. We would be in those masks sometimes 24 hours a day as the Germans pounded our trenches, than once the green haze cleared the sounds of machine guns would break the silence and that would mean a charge was inbound…..than basically you had to fight in close quarters with your aptly named trench knife or bayonet; not to mention simply swinging your M1 like a club, basically whatever you needed to do to kill the bastards trying to kill you.
Medical ya that was a joke in a half……..a bunker dug out in the rear of the trench and yes there was multiple per line, if your wounds where bad enough that you didn’t die right away, the field treatment would kill you or infection would be your demise. So basically you prayed your wounds would be enough to send you to a field hospital and home…..and not in a box, this whole notion of laying ones life down for King and Country got real old real fast “Like on the First Day!”
I would be one of the lucky ones, my first trip to medical wouldn’t be for six months, I wold watch bigger, stronger men break down to the terror of the unknown and the trench logic as they stabbed themselves, stuck hands and arms out of the trench with ignited lighters to shot by snipers and others simply allow themselves to get the dreaded Trench Foot in vain attempts to go home…….while others would freak out and take off out of the trench either to be shot by the German or captured by their own country and hanged for desertion….yup the hanging was not a way to go in the trench, it was a very short rope and chair; you do the math on that one, not a pleasant way to go…if they were lucky the commander would simply use the firing squad, but with bullets at a premium and rope cheap well the English do like our hangings.
So basically everywhere you turned death was looming and after some brutal battles our dead and their dead would line the trench and so would begin the dead clean up, but with all the dead and decomposition it would bring in the vermin and so you had to basically sleep with one eye open at all times from everything under the sun and then the rats…….the damned rats, even today I have nightmares about those bastards, I am still missing part of a toe from it being eaten by a rat………yes I didn’t feel it, frostbite sucks and so does having fucked your back up when a shock wave knocked me off the ladder and back into the trench that was nearly a twenty foot fall on not so soft clay and rock. Though I was better off than the Dough Boy in front of me…….he well didn’t make it, Rest In Peace Private Jacobson.
Now my first real injury happened when we were ordered to charge the German line in the dead of winter 1915……anyone with a decent recalling of upper school history class can recall that this was basically suicide, war wasn’t as graceful and pretty as it is today. The whistle was blown, the ladders went up and one by one we scaled the wall and charged into something called “Dead Mans Land” ya this wasn’t going to end well…….correction it never ended well! This region between the lines was littered with barbed wire, land mines and machine gun nests, not to mention the Germans and their rifles, bombs and grenades…….though normally one charge was met with a counter charge so here we are engaged in brutal mortal combat and fighting for a few feet of ground. It would be during one of these charges that I would end up being shot in my leg and shoulder by a Krout machine-gunner and to add insult to injury this Dough Boy would end up being stabbed twice in the thigh by another Krout.
I hit the ground hard, yes it wasn’t glamorous like in the movies….this was reality and well war is hell! I figured it was all over for me, hell I lasted six months in hell…not a bad run for a kid born on the wrong side of the tracks. As I laid their dying another Dough Boy would grab me and drag me back to trench and as he lowered me down, he would have his face turned inside out from a Krout sniper……I never got to learn my hero’s name, but I did get to be covered in his grey matter, blood and teeth not to mention seeming like I had a third eye growing out of my shoulder wound…….yup I am truly traumatised and I blame the Americans.
Now this is where my trip through hell would begin and as well this is were I learned about the American Military and their superior medical advancements. My wounds should have been bad enough to cause me to die in the trench as that was how it worked, if you were an officer you lived if your were a poor boy from the slums you died…….isn’t that what war is simply population control of the poor. Though in my case we had Americans in our medical line, yes Americans they won’t let this poor wanker die…..no they didn’t they first injected my three times with this weird serum and than came the meatball surgery as they put humpty dumpty back together again…….I felt like a million pounds but I knew something was about to go wrong on many levels, call it British Intuition.
I had just been hoodwinked by the American Military into their Federal Immortality Project and once again I was simply given away, my uniform changed, my rank went up……yes I was now a Sargent, shit I am now in the American Infantry and than that stupid FIP patch on my shoulder. I would not see my fellow British Dough Boys again. Nope now I was in another line and I would now truly understand the meaning of hell…..if I thought it was bad in the British trench, try being in the trench of the FIP; the US Officers gave two shits about us and they tossed us to meat grinder at ever chance and those that returned with holes would be patched up, injected again and sent back to the wolves…….good news I did get to see some more of my British chaps again, though that didn’t last long. I got messed up so many times from 1916 to 1918 I simply prayed for a bullet to the head, though I really didn’t want to die but I did think about it often.
I will leave the gruesome details out of what I went through in those first two years in the FIP, how my bones where stapled back together, ribs screwed back in place, plates and bars holding me together…….now seriously the longer I lasted the more I simply wanted to live and as well turn my pain onto the Krouts; by the end of the war I figured okay Forest its time to go home a hero…….oh boy was I wrong, the Americans in no simple terms told me that I was their property now and I would be heading to America to serve the US Army till I was either dead or to broken for active duty. Well needless to say I was scared but a little gleeful that I wouldn’t have to return to my crappy life in London.
Now I understand that many of the officers and nobles that got hoodwinked into the American FIP would end up being able to legally pressure their way out, while others simply told the Americans “No!”…..well for this coal boy from London Town, I didn’t have anyone pushing for me, or simply care enough to know I was missing, I was back into slavery and this time the pain would be forever tormenting and removing any rational thought. This is how the US War Department controlled the FIP, we were living in agony, we needed our pills and we simply wanted to make everyone feel worse than us……those that got out with a conscience intact I salute you, I am looking at you Reverend Bernard Georgetown.
Okay I served in the FIP through many I mean many wars and countless engagements, I would join the 82nd Airborne and become a Screaming Eagle during the Second World War as a paratrooper, I would break numerous bones, get shot countless times, stabbed so many times I stopped counting, and basically have to be put back together so many times I simply became numb to the suffering. The US Army removed my conscience and replaced it with a killer instinct and simply abused me in times of peace with experimental surgeries and weapons testing……ya they didn’t like their British Wanker, though the Pale Rider, Edison and Captain would have a worse experience…..hell each one of us got the shaft sometimes literally.
I would make it through the Second World War without being captured and saying that is a miracle seeing the FIP where basically on the menu during that war and my CO Lt. Wilhuff Palpatine would end up captured by the axis while I was lucky enough to escape, though I would return to aid in his rescue with the Pale Rider. By the end of the Second World War I was truly a broken man that basically answered with “Yes Sir” and point me in a direction and watch hell unleash. I had fallen victim to the curse of the FIP…..lack of self preservation and simply having a death wish, seeing nobody back home knew about me and could give a damn if I lived or died.
I would make it through Korea, yes all three years…though I wouldn’t make it out unscathed, I like Rust Rutherford would fall out of the chopper and break more than a handful of bones upon landing. I would loose my pinky finger to a Korean soldier that stepped on it……..though it didn’t matter anyways seeing it was simply dead from frostbite. Korea in no short words sucked and you wont find me going back to that mountainous hellscape anytime soon……when it was cold it was fucking cold and when hot it was hell on earth, though far cooler than Vietnam.
I would like to say I made many friends and all my time in active service left me with endless memories of the men I served with, though in reality I only consider the FIP brothers and family as the regular GI didn’t understand our plight and our suffering. To them we were simply old timers that couldn’t be killed….also they had families back home to go home to, second “THEY COULD GO THE FUCK HOME!!” We FIP nope if we didn’t die we simply got redeployed into the next hot zone and over time war became second nature, my hearing was beyond fucked, my vision well don’t get into a motorcar with me if I forgot my spectacles and agonising pain that no living creature should ever have to suffer.
Okay I survived Korea and than it was back to base to train, be tortured and train some more…..some FIP would be allowed to marry and start a family, well only those injected pre 1900, me it was train till the break of dawn and than train some more…..only break I got was when I was tortured by my captures. So once again war breaks out and guess what who’s the first to be deployed when the French need help in the jungles of Vietnam…….yup your brave FIP; First to Fight yet again, hell we beat the general Marine Corps each and every time.
Vietnam was the worst of all the wars, seeing it wasn’t a legal war to begin with…..that didn’t stop the US from escalating shit and sticking around long after the French bailed “Fucking Snail Eaters”. I would be within many platoons during my tenure in Nam and got to know many young men that had been drafted into the military to fight in hell. Foxholes became our new home,and basically nothing changed from the First World War till Vietnam……just far more separated, better access to weed and okay things had changed I was sleeping in a ruck sack on the jungle floor or foxhole not half buried in clay wall and the boys where not there out of patriotism, they had been conscripted into a very unpopular war.
I would leave so much of my blood within the jungle of Southeast Asia that I am really surprised I am still alive today, I would tear my back asunder when I dragged fellow FIP and regular grunts out of the hornets nest and back to safety. To this day my body is one scar on another and it would be the jungle carpet of Vietnam that would do the most damage. I would end up partially impaled on a punji stick……that was one trip to medical, another would be when a punji stick would end up driving itself through my foot and ankle……yep another round of medical, I would end up in hand to hand combat with a NVA Gook and he would push me into another punji stick; that one tore through my shoulder and it did allow me to grab the gook and impale his dumb ass forehead onto the punji needless to say another round of medical…….by the end of Nam I really hated bamboo and Dr. Heath was getting tired of seeing me, and yes I was just as bad as “Pants” and “Boots” yes he called them that seeing he took their pants and boots away to keep them in bed versus running or hobbling off to the next chopper……I will leave what he called me out of this autobiography……again secrets are needed.
The Bamboo wasn’t my only issue in Nam as this would be the war or conflict that would bring my career to an end…….and thank god. Though before that I would end up having my left eye boiled by napalm……yes they do pop like over boiled eggs. I would be shot to shit, stabbed enough times that I should have been called pincushion, and suffer numerous other injuries to graphic to mention here; lets simply say I was covered in my own sauce more than a few times. These injuries and the way medical treated us, more like the way Command ordered medical to treat us would lead to the lack of self preservation, we simply welcomed death at this point and when we would see the dead come in to base from the jungles all we could think was “Lucky Bastard” callous I know but Nam was coined the Ten Thousand Day War and I was there for almost all Ten Thousand Days…….my time would be cut short in 1974 when I would have my eye boiled by our own napalm……yup they dumped that shit directly on our location, mishap my ass!! I was shot to shit with the wounds burned shut, my thigh bone was sticking out of my well thigh……I had another thighbone in my non punji stick shoulder; “Fuck Me it’s wasn’t my bone” my elbow busted to the point that I needed pins and bars to put it back together, and basically well I had been fucked hard by a NVA and Cong ambush that lead to a brutal three day battle.
How I survived……seriously I am not sure, but I would be one of the lucky ones and leave the jungle in basically one piece. While at the hospital in Germany, I would receive my discharge papers, this included hundred bucks and a one way trip to some shit hole in America where I would end up tossed aside like yesterdays news. When I left the hospital on December 21st 1974, I was barley able to exist without pain medication and antibiotics; see my wounds were still healing and well my stitches hadn’t even been removed yet before I was loaded onto a plane flown back to America……than transferred to small single engine plane once in New York and than flown to an airfield in a small town nobody ever heard of; Middle Indiana population 200 and very xenophobic.
So yes a young man….well in appearance with a lower London cockney accent arriving in town didn’t set them at ease, seriously my only saving grace was I was still in my uniform and bandages. The lovely people of Middle Indiana might have distrust me do to my accent and well being unknown set them back and seeing many Vietnam veterans were simply scene as drifters, nomads and well vagrants…..it would take them a few to get used to me, I still looked the part of solider boy with my polished boots, pressed uniform, shaven face and high and tight; that the people didn’t instantly hate me on sight……but my PTSD didn’t make my life easier as I would act in an odd fashion during thunderstorms, motorcar backfires, hearing gunshots and simply well EXISTING…….I was in four bloody wars and many combat actions you never heard off, what do you expect. Well for the first few months they simply ignored me, spoke about me in hush tones and would leave food out for me like I was a stray dog…..I mean I heard one of them saying that poor man, maybe we should have him neutered, mothers would usher their children away from me and the local law enforcement would harass me.
I was stuck though, I had enough money to pay for the room I was renting for a month, I didn’t have any other clothing other than my Army issued uniforms and my medication supply would’t last all that long. I needed to find a job and fast or I would end up in jail or dead, seeing my injuries where healing slowly and well my busted wrist and hand made pick pocketing a impossible task. Now seriously fuck the Army for dumping me in Middle….. the land time forgot, and a town with only a few shops on its Main Street. I would be lucky to find one shopkeeper that was a good Christian and willing to take a gamble on me….or but his stake in trusting a blighty.
I would go to work for Davids Pharmacy working behind the counter as a soda jerk, and helping delver medication…….I would be paid 3 dollars a week, given a small closet to sleep in and access to my medication and all the pop I could drink. I would also be required to attend church services every Sunday and every holiday……ya that was a bit of culture shock seeing I have never once before stepped into a church, I prayed to God allot in the trenches and jungles but that was simply the deal with all soldiers in war…the general prayer “Oh, Please God, let me get the fuck out of here in one piece and not in a box.”
Religion was new to me, I was a reject, a wanker, a criminal and a killer……I was a solider and I was survivor not someone that put stock in a higher power, you could consider me an Atheist seeing how the hell could their be a loving god that would allow the torment I went through from birth till well today. I simply knew that I needed to oblige his requests simply cause I needed the medication and a free place to sleep……though I really do like pop now. I figured this would be my key into the town and a way to get these xenophobic asses to see me as a human and not a stray blighty dog that needed to be neutered and fed table scraps……sorry that part triggered me, seeing I basically only ate scraps when I was a child and was chained to a coal stove like a dog.
Though as much as I tried to fit in, I couldn’t shack my damned accent and well having one eye and scared to hell didn’t make me appear any less alien to these people. Though around Christmas time of 1976, I would be bringing an older gentleman his heart medicine and when I got to his home and he came to the door I recognised him, it was my old bunk mate in the second World War….I was like Jimmy, it’s me Edwin….he looked at me deeply for what felt like forever and he removed his glasses and gave me a huge hug saying Edwin you British Bastard your still alive, what brings you to my neck of the woods. Well I raised the white paper bag and said your pills did…..and of course being dumped here like yesterdays garbage by the Army after they were finished with me.
Needless to say Jimmy was a bit of a recluse and didn’t socialise much in the town so he hadn’t actually scene me, though I looked a bit different and hadn’t really aged since 1944….a curse and a blessing from the FIP serum. Though you don’t storm a beach with a man and forget what they look like, especially seeing I saved his bacon in Normandy. Now Jimmy was a wounded veteran and left most of his leg back back in the hills of Germany in 45′ so I could say his being a recluse was on par for a wounded veteran. I remember just being at ease with Jimmy, and spent sometime chatting and getting caught up……and it would be Jimmy that would allow me to become a local, become a one of the Middle Folk……..yes thats what they called themselves, the people stopped looking at me as a dirty Vietnam Hippy and a veteran of a real war……they saw me as a hero thanks to Jimmy, and thats when my life changed for the good.
By 1980 I was working full time in the Pharmacy and learning the trade, I was involved in the church…..simply for keeping up appearances, I still claim that a loving god doesn’t exist and Christianity is a joke and the greatest scam perpetrated on mankind, once an Atheist always an Atheist……well until I met a nice Jewish women and now I am a Jewish Atheist; Okay that was funny. I had earned my upper school diploma, and had saved enough money to buy my first motorcar. I had a few new suits, a small apartment I rented above Jimmy’s garage and for a kid from the slums of London I had made…..I had clean water, clean clothing, good food and good company and no one was shooting at me.
I would met my wife Heather Yates in the summer of 1981 when she came into the Pharmacy where I worked and I became very smitten when I first saw her……ya it was weird she was 19 and I was well old but I looked like I was in my twenties and well that really didn’t make the locals feel at ease seeing they knew I was a D-Day veteran…….but I would learn that her parents where escaped Polish Jews from Warsaw and they were very happy to have this old American GI courting their daughter; though I would have to convert to Judaism if the relationship was to go anywhere……hence the Jewish Atheist bit, yes I had to get Mr. Winkey snipped and that sucked more than any of my other war injuries but to be with Heather it was worth it.
So even through all the bull crap I would be put through by the townies for dating a 19 year old Jewish girl, I would still keep my status as a Middle Folk and yes I would still have to go to church on Sundays and than go to the “Big City” to go to temple on Friday night…….this was also when I would begin my college days at Indiana State where my soon to be Father in Law worked as a Dean of Students…….yup old Edwin had really turned the page on his life and things where about to go into warp speed.
I would be married in a dual ceremony on November 17th 1982……yes this self proclaimed God Hating Atheist would be married in a church with both a minister and rabbi…..ya I know I was rolling my eyes, but I needed to keep up appearances; hell the townies nearly lynched me when the learned I listened to Joplin, Kiss, Jefferson Air Plane, Black Sabbath and Hendrix……hell if they actually new what I listened to in the 80’s and 90’s they would have burned me at the stake LOL. Okay where was I….oh I remember the 80’s yes what a decade for me, I would go back to school, get married, become a father for the first and not last time, become Middles pharmacist when old Doc Brown would retire and sell me the pharmacy……and yes I had my license by that point. I basically would be the perfect small town husband and father; and yes I did become an accountant as well, yes I know I can simply hear all the groans a Jewish Pharmacist/Accountant……the irony, well it paid the bills, kept food on the table and a roof over our head. Though me real passion was yet to come and that would be Robots and Computers……yes I just loved electronics and would tinker all the time, I was a real hands on kinda guy and a math degree would be the start to my life as Crazy Ed the mightiest little decker.
Well the 1980’s saw me become a father of three wonderful children, earn my first of many college degrees, become the beloved townie Pharmacist and begin to have a semblance of normalcy in my once very chaotic beginnings. I struggled with my addictions and nightmares brought on by years of abuse and war, Though I bought a motorcar, a house with a white picket fence, adopted a dog, and would become your very traditional small town suburban husband…….yes I had the slacks and jumpers (Sweaters for you Americans), I wore the loafers and always had a tie on, yup I had made it and I was becoming truly American……..ya that part was still hard to get used to, though my accent was going no where and even if I tried to escape it, well I just sounded like I was from the deep south…..so I figured it brought a little class to the town of Middle.
So by the start of the 90’s I had a little workshop in my basement, I built computers, robots ans had my model train collection……..oh how I love my trains and train time……yes that exists, don’t bother a man when he is playing with his trains. I was leading my sons Scout troop and had become very active in both my temple and church…..yes I was still playing lip service, my Heather was pregnant again and I was basically addicted to Nintendo, and Sega at this point…….between trains and Super Mario Brothers, I was content. I coached the upper school chess team and was working on the robotics program that was in it’s very early stages….something Edison and I share the pain off; Robotics Coaching!!
Basically the 90’s were allot like the 80’s for me, basically boring and simply wonderful, my pharmacy was growing and I was looking for a new project to peak my interest. I was already a doctor and was still attending school at night to earn further degrees…yup I had become addicted to education, and as I already spoiled the ending I would earn my teaching certificate and step away from the pharmacy as the full time pharmacist and let my assistant run things full time. I was ready for the next chapter and so I would apply for the open teaching job at Middle Public Upper School, I would become there newest Mathematics teacher come the school year of 1993…..this would be the start to my new life and one that I loved and hated, I had already written multiple books on the subjects of Math, Robots, Computers and all very boring stuff including chess, I had a serious addiction to painkillers, pot and education……hell how do you think I managed to stay sane teaching idiots math……one must indulge or commit murder.
As I stated the 90’s were basically routine and for me I couldn’t be happier, the Gulf War in 91′ did anger me and push my buttons as I knew more FIP would be shipped over to yet another pointless war and more innocent souls would be forced into the program at no fault of their own. I did my part, I had a yellow ribbon on my tree, marched in the Memorial Day parade and joined the local VFW chapter once it opened in he spring of 1990 prior to that I was part of the American Legion and proudly serve both orders till today. I would share my accounts of history with the troop and even get involved with the board of education in a attempt to update the curriculum. Again boring stuff I know, you want the blood and gore that seems to be all the FIP talk about, well my life was simple and dull…and for a traumatised veteran that would be exactly what the doctor ordered………though hang on, shit is about to get real in the next decade.
This seems to be a standard for us FIP and I would end up running for Mayor in 1996 after I was ambushed by a reporter if I ever thought about politics and what I would do if I was mayor…….well I answered and next thing I know the headline on the Sunday Paper reads “Mr. Edwin Forest announces his bid for Mayor, and suddenly VOTE FOREST signs began emerging on peoples lawns and it was all they could talk about. I figured I didn’t stand a snowballs chance in hell seeing I was a Independent within the heart of Republican Land……..yes those parties once existed, now its Freedom and Loyalist; same story different cover. So long story short I would win the election and hold office for two terms, this would make my life a bit hectic as I was trying to balance my work, my schooling and my pharmacy not to mention being a loving dutiful husband and father of six……..yup I was fertile and I blame the Jewish snip, it seemed to give my swimmers more potency and more gumption to swim faster like a speeding bullet……well physics LOL not really I understand, but till it’s officially researched thats my story and I am sticking with it.
So by the end of the 90’s I was mayor, my youngest was in college studying to become a Pharmacist, my daughter was dating a nice Jewish boy from a good family and had dreams of becoming….well a housewife (That made me cringe), my other children where in either upper or lower school and my youngest was nine and a real chip of the old block; He refused to dress in any other clothing other than what daddy was wearing, he was my shadow and would honestly be my favourite……though a parent doesn’t have favourites “On The Record”. My boy Edwin Jr, would be seen as a nerd in school by his classmates do to his chosen attire, well I was mayor by this point and wore suit and ties seven days a week, and thats what little Edwin wanted to wear and when his mother and I would tell him no…….well all hell would break out and it was easier to simply dress him up like dad than deal with the tantrum.
I town I was the cool dad, seeing I didn’t care if the kids smoked, drank or smoked weed; I had one rule only in my house under my supervision and never tell a fucking soul or I will eat your soul!! They liked me though I was the mayor, the president of the school board, and an immortal veteran of multiple wars not to mention a fan of horror movies and heavy acid rock music…….oh I was also the Jewish Atheist, again thats funny. Basically from 96 -2004 I was the Lord of Middle and even after leaving office I would still be regarded as the Lord of Middle seeing I am British……..yes I get the irony and hidden insult, I am old not thick.
Though come the 2000’s my life would take a very violent and bloody turn, see I was FIP that means you are always FIP basically once a Marine always a Marine and America was involved in yet another war this time with Afghanistan and soon to be Iraq…….here is where I wished I had remained as Mayor seeing I would have been exempt. Nope I did my civic duty and than stepped aside to allow another poor soul to take my place like all the prior mayors before me, no we didn’t have term limits but since the 1940’s Middle’s mayors all decreed they would not be FDR and only run twice and than step aside. So come my retirement we were getting ready to go to war in Iraq.
I would be home on a Sunday morning having brunch with the family and relaxing after another sleepy sermon and planning out our day when there was a knock on our door, it was two men in uniform with paperwork……..I figured “What the Hell did Owen do.” (My eldest son) nope I was wrong they were here for Sargent Edwin Forest, I was being conscripted back into service to fight the Islamic Threat and go to war in Iraq. Seriously you bastards tossed me to the curb when your toy solider broke back in 74′ and now you want me again…….What The Fuck!
I was legally unable to protest and risked imprisonment or execution if I ignored the deployment paperwork; so I hugged my wife and children goodbye, we had a wonderful going away party in the town, everyone came out to wish me well and a safe return. As I boarded the bus with my duffel in hand and wearing a uniform that I hadn’t put on in nearly 30 years besides for marching in a parade. I looked back and watched with sorrow as my wife and children where crying, my son in law holding my pregnant daughter close (Damn Jewish snip struck again), my youngest Edwin wearing his Boy Scout Uniform like a military uniform standing with the rest of the troop all saluting their fearless Scoutmaster as he was being shipped off to war to fight the Islamic Menace, the bringers of evil and destroyers of freedom…….ya I didn’t by into the hype post 9/11 and still don’t religion is a joke and a weapon used to control the masses into fearing the unknown.
So here I was much older and by now I looked basically how I do now….yup teaching, politics and parenting did something the FIP serum couldn’t “Age Me.” I was heading to the airport to head to my new base in DC to receive my orders, a haircut and find out what branch they were dumping me into…..I had already tried the Royal Army and US Army,I was hoping for something easy like the Navy or Air Force; nope I was to become a US Marine and after DC it was off to Parris Island for training and than off to Iraq to fight for democracy and the Christian way…….hey what part of I’m Jewish did you not get! Well now remember I am much older, I haven’t seen action since 1974 and I am really, really hurt already and yet I was pushed to my limits and they would break me down once again…..yup didn’t take long to exhume the FIP within me, once they did I simply feel inline with the rest of the FIP and regular suckers at Parris Island.
By New Years 2006 I would be shipped off to Iraq with my shiny new uniform a new rank of Gunnery Sargent and my riffle in hand, I was a squad leader and about to step into a whole new world, yup war had changed and I was not prepared for the Modern Warfare……yup my kids away’s kicked my ass in Call of Duty. Though I was like fish to water and all the experience and training came back to me in a blink…….one thing the media was basically censured and this was going to be a real fucking problem; the media was our friend in Nam but now us FIP don’t have there back up, this war was totally politicised and being fought by the suits in DC and we were simply expendable.
The citizens in America rallied and became keyboard commandos screaming “Support the Troops” and yet hiding behind the lies spewed forth by the media and politicians about what was actually going on over here. Iraq is hell, seriously it was over 100 degrees in the shade and everyone and their mother was trying to kill us…….we had our mission orders and please give me the jungle or trench over urban combat; also the enemy simply dressed like everyone else, I missed the good old days of uniforms. My first year in Iraq didn’t change much, it was basically war. Though once we had truly become entrenched in the countryside, the man we were after was already captured, tried and hanged but we remain…..yet another verse same as the first. I figured this war was going to last forever and I was never going home outside of a bag.
Well not to make you sick to your stomach, I would be wounded badly and I mean I nearly died come 2008. My guts where basically spilling out of me and I had more holes than swiss cheese, I figured well Edwin this is how it ends. I would black out from the pain and blood loss to only awaken in a medical clinic being patched up once again, this time the FIP serum was being injected directly into my heart and spine…….ya I was awake for that shit! More metal being put in my body and than a few weeks later i was given a pat on the back and sent bock out to the field……..man I missed Dr. Heath, at least he fought for us to go home. Needless to say I wouldn’t return home till 2015 when once again I would get totally fucked up and end up with shattered hips and my leg bones in my torso from a failure of equipment when my shoot failed to open and to make matters worse I would be shot to hell on the way down and have my legs run over by one of our own tanks…….yup I am far shorter than 5’4; I am more like 4’5 and change as they managed to fix me up…….but not without fusing my feet to my knees and as I don’t have shins anymore and well running and bending my legs doesn’t happen…………you want t know the fucked up part, they argued over ending me home, those bastards wanted to send me back out into the field, needless to say cooler heads prevailed and I was discharged once again in 2016 and shipped back to Middle with the same going away package as before.
Once home I would go through intensive rehab and it would nearly drain my bank account as the military had removed my VA benefits and forced me to cover all my own expenses. I would nearly loose my private insurance do to the same issue as they decreed that it was a preexisting condition…….ya no this was caused by war a war the bastards in DC wanted for control over OIL!! So basically I ended up far worse off than I was before I left for the Marine Corps and would serve another decade in hell for no damned good reason, and from what heard I wasn’t the only unlucky FIP to be served papers and thrust back into action long after we had been dropped like a bad habit.
Whats worse is I am living in agony now and need to hobble around like a fucking dwarf…….and they wattle faster than me! Thank god I am a simple decker or I would be screwed, loosing my VA benefits would truly suck if I didn’t own a pharmacy and had access to qualified medical treatment here in Middle, though as the President of the VFW I have learned that this is an ongoing issue facing not only the FIP but the general solider as well, the now United Canadian American States doesn’t give a shit about it’s veterans and hopefully with Oliver McKeen in the White House something will change. Sorry for the redirect but I am still steamed about that fact, so basically by the mid 2010’s my life was in hell and would simply get worse with the events of the Great Tragedy of 2018 coming and yup even us in Middle din’t escape that shit show……nope war came right to us and not in a good way.
I will skip the history lesson and cut to the chase as this autobiography is getting a bit long with all the boring detail, my town would be over run by native, UCAS and rebel forces all fighting for a piece of the pie. We the Middle Folk were caught in the middle….ironic isn’t it. We don’t have a capable fighting body in this town and even our police are a joke, so it would be left to your favourite grumpy crippled FIP wanker to pick up the slack and defend my home and town from being erased from existence; and thats just what i did, I took up arms and formed a militia of what capable bodies I could muster and would forbid my own children from joining….though that wouldn’t last very long……Forest’s are quite stubborn and don’t like being told NO. I simply wanted to keep my children safe and free of conflict but the UCAS and NAN would not allow me to do such a thing.
Long story short we would use guerrilla tactics and modern warfare against them, yes I was in command and yes this crippled wanker can still fight……cant get off the floor to easy like but I am a crack shot and with my cane I can lift myself up. Also robots make for great ambush tools, before you ask we got the weapons from Big Joe’s Hunting Supply and other equipment we stole……remember I wasn’t always a law abiding citizen. We kicked their ass, though the rebels did help in that equation; I did get shot a few times but at this point I simply call that “Tuesday” we lost many good citizens including three of my sons, two died in my arms from their wounds and Eric my next eldest would be hanged after he was captured by the UCAS…..all in all I would loose Eric, Walter, and Patrick during the revolt; they paid the ultimate price and as much as I tried to keep them out of this, their hearts pumped patriotism and they believed i the cause and I couldn’t be prouder of them and their sacrifice……I miss them more and more each passing day, but I am here to keep their memory alive and I know their sacrifice wasn’t in vain as Middle is free again and we kicked both the UCAS and NAN out of our boarders.
My work in cyberspace would keep our network locked down and some of the unique programs keep our network safe from their hackers. Though I once had six wonderful children and now I have three that remain alive; Owen my eldest son, Janet my daughter and Edwin Jr my baby…….though I am a Grandfather of three now with another on the way. Owen runs my pharmacy, Edwin is in college studying to be math professor like his father and Janet owns and operates a little chachki shop in town that is seemingly doing well……thank god she didn’t stick with the housewife gig (I can breath easier now, my family doesn’t do well with simple housewives). I well I am the mighty little decker known as Crazy Ed……I work within the matrix, and outside of it.
Also more about me……..yes I know I am bragging but your still reading aren’t you, so who gives a damn. I am currently the president of the local VFW, I sit as the president of the Board of Education and I am the Superintendent of the Middle Public School System…..yup our little town has grown over the years, remember when I got here in 1975 the population was 200, well it seems that with all the BS going on in the cities, violence, taxes, plague, population increase and simply pollution people have been fleeing the sprawl and seeking the simple life in small town America……we have grown to a grand total of 2,500 people and expanded our boarders. Yes Middle is still very small in compassion but we do like to keep it that way.
My pharmacy is doing well as we voted to keep major corporations out of our town, so sorry no Happy Burgers, Wally World, or Stuffer Shack within Middle only Mom and Pop local shops here. I have been keeping myself busy with robotics and chess, as I teach and coach both within the upper school, I am once again a scoutmaster for my grandson’s troop and he is excited to go on his first real camp out…….We have cookouts and block parties, we hoist Old Glory on the pole and I proudly fly my USMC flag even though they tried to kill me numerous times……once a marine always a marine. Basically I live the simply life, though I am no push over and if you come to Middle to cause trouble well you will learn the hard way that this little crippled blighty bastard is tough as nails; yup I have cyber and bio and some other surprises in store……as I said I have my secrets.
So as an FIP I went through hell, but I am lucky my wife is still with me as she has been lionised…..my children are all grown and married with children and even they are grandparents so I am a Great Grandparent……….I still own my house that I purchased in 1984 and have a few motorcars in my collection, I am basically your typical elderly suburban grandparent, happily married and looking forward to the future. I understand my decking might get me in trouble but simply who gives a damn; we need to keep those in power on their toes and stick it to the Neon Church.
I now you were hoping for a tragic ending like most of the other FIP, well that is sadly not going to happen……besides the fact I am forever traumatised and suffer PTSD, live in chronic pain, and buried three of my children (two who died in my arms) I am tormented by nightmares and suffer addiction issues do to a lifetime of self medicating………so if thats what your looking for than I hope your happy you sick bastards. I can tell you that I might be grumpy and a bit off kilter from a lifetime of abuse and torment, but even though I blame the US Army for ruining my life, I couldn’t be happier as it brought me here to Middle and without the FIP I would never have met the love of my life and raised 6 beautiful children and many grand and great grand kids…….Oh December sucks for my wallet as we have eight crazy nights and a Christmas Tree; but I wouldn’t change a damned thing and even though I am a elf proclaimed Jewish Atheist; I can say I have truly been blessed and none of this would be possible without the FIP Serum….oh I would change one thing I would want to have my boys back; God I miss Eric, Walter and Patrick…..Rest In Piece my Sons your sacrifice was not in vein.
Page Written By: Crazy Ed