The year was 1775. The Revolutionary War raged up and down the coast of our homeland, America. The British were intent on keeping us in their power, but aye, we the rebels would have none of that rubbish.
I was merely 18 years old. Just out of grade school and optimistic to the ways of the world. My parents warned my not to join up with the rebels, but I could not stand by and let my country be overrun with Redcoats. America's liberties were at stake, and I, I had to do something about it.
There it was. I quickly etched my signature down on the recruitment paper. The recruiter smiled. "You did good son. You did good, for America." He then handed me a uniform, some musty old boots, and a rifle. I said my goodbyes to mother and father. Mother Magdeline held back tears as she saw me off. I glanced back once, and then marched on towards my destiny.
Dirty black smoke filled the air over the camp ground. Hundreds of rebel soldiers filled the fields in Concord, MA. As I approached them, I noticed most were old men, my fathers age. Wooden teeth, beer bellies, how were we to win the war in this condition? It was then when I first laid my eyes upon the most beautiful man I has ever seen. His lips were a tender rose color. His eyes the darkest maple, and his skin, the softest silk. At first, I could not muster the courage to go and talk to this fine you lad. I sat with some elder rebels and joined in on their conversation about the best kind of figgy pudding. Alas, my heart and mind was not on figgy pudding. It was, in fact, on the young goddess of a man I had seen earlier. The thoughts ran through my mind. Was he single? Does he like boys too? Do I like boys? All these thoughts were quickly snuffed out when I heard a loud boom.
Crackles of gunfire quickly erupted and the shouts of rebels echoes throughout the camp before I could figure out what was going on. Suddenly, on my left, I see a wave of red pouring onto the greens of Concord. Hundreds of thousands of British soldiers coming in waves, I was petrified. I held my rifle, trembling. As I sat there, frozen, I noticed one Red coat advancing on me with his bayonet drawn. I tried to yell but my voice was too horse to call out for help. As my seemingly eminent demise approached, all I could do was pray. Out of nowhere, all I could see was a flash of beautiful hair and a dead Red coat at my feet. I slowly looked up only to find the goddess of a boy standing over me. My hero. My beautiful muscle-clad hero. I could barely udder my name in thanks. He laughed elegantly, and said "Almost got ya there didn't he! My names Vincent." He extended his hand to raise me to my feet. For a moment, our hands touched, it was divine. His warm skin radiated beauty, and I was incredibly aroused. "M--My name is Jeffy." I could barely remember my own name, in the presence of such glory. He laughed as finally, we stood eye to eye. Before we could romantically embrace, a canon explosion sent us both flying through the air. We landed nearby in a hay stack. Vincent quickly made sure I was okay, before going to work on the Red coats. He quickly fired a shot with his rifle, hitting a Commander in the British Army. Blood squirted from his neck as he fell off his horse. Vincent then carelessly threw his rifle away as his shirt ripped off. His well toned muscles glistened in the sun, blinding the Red coat army. Vincent then pulled out his knife. "For America!" He screamed at the top of his lungs. At this moment, he lead a charge with the rebel army towards the British. Left and right, British were being killed. A crackle of gunfire, a British officer goes down hard. Under Vincent DiBenedetto's leadership, the rebels took the initiative. This was the turning point. April 26, 1775. The day that the rebel army defeated the British at Concord Greens will forever be the day remembered as the day the rebels defeated the mighty British.
Soon after, America was formed. Vincent DiBenedetto was the first signature on the Declaration of Independence, and I was there to cheer him on. To this day, we are still together. After the war was over, we spent a lot of time together, mostly making out and taking steamy baths together. And as the years go on, Vincent and I still sit in front of the fire place telling this same story to our grandkids, and to our great grandkids. We titled the story: How we won a war, learned we were both gay, fell in love, and saved a nation.
The End.
