But hey, now Tommy could no longer be called a cry baby, siss-willy, bed wetter.   Not him, not anymore. Now Tommy's a real fighting machine.  Turns out the guys in his infantry agreed, as they took to calling him Truck.  This of course was because he was big.  He wrote us that in a mass email, signed it Truck.  You know, like a Mac Truck.   We used to get into fights over those e-mails, jealous spats, when one got a message, but not the other, me and John.  We started picking at each other like little girls over his words.   I wonder if he knew the power those things had over us.

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