There's a lot of empty space in Vietnam. Fucking miles of it, just stand there and look around—what do you see? Grass and trees and soldiers. Never the enemy, the bastards, never them. Just sneak up on you and—BANG—you're dead. Or, if you're lucky, tucked in a warm bed with morphine and hot nurses. Blue shots and black dresses and stupid priests and dead people.

That's where I am now. A bed of pain until the ladies with the cleavage come over with my morphine. That's what's really fucked up—the morphine. Now you're gonna think I'm crazy, and maybe I am—maybe Nam fucked with my head so bad I'm seeing things. Maybe—Ohhh, it's that stupid priest again. He's fucking retarded—I swear to God he proclaims like ten guys dead every day, and at least three wake up again every time. How can you make a mistake like that so many times in a row?!

Which reminds me, tomorrow Luce is gonna come visit me. Pretty excited for that, I haven't seen her in ages. I have to say, after getting drafted I'm pretty glad there are people like her out there, people protesting the war. I'm really lucky to have made it out alive—like, really lucky. You have no fucking idea how many guys I saw killed. One guy was even a Limey, like Jude! That probably shook me up more than anything else. But no—I don't wanna think about Vietnam. It's gonna haunt me for the rest of my life, dammit! All those dead guys, and ripped off faces, the burnt bodies, the suicide kids, whatever. It's crazy!

Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yeah, my morphine. When am I gonna get my next shot of it, anyway? It's probably been like ten hours since they shot me up last time... I barely even remember what it's like ot ride the blue waves... Whoa, I'm getting poetic. Fuck, I hurt. I hurt. Bring me my morphine, woman! Stop dancing around and trying to seduce a spinning room of half-dead guys, just give me a shot! Bring me up!

Why am I even here? I mean, I don't remember what happened... just suddenly I'm lying in this bed with fucking awful pain and a bandage on my head and... I probably should have died. Oh, that's a pleasant thought. I miss Lucy. Fuck, I miss Jude, too. I miss Jude a lot.

Ah! Ah! Nurse! Coming! With a syringe! It's blue! Fuck—my morphine! Shoot me up, bitch!

GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Ahhhhahahahahaaaa…!

My mind, where was I—thinking? Fuck. Um.

Oh.

My morphine.

I swear to God, there's some blue lady swimming in it.

There's a naked lady in my morphine.

A/N: This fic is 100 pointless and 100 crap. It's what's happening in Max's head while he's in the hospital—not during Happiness Is A Warm Gun. Also, I don't own Across The Universe or Max so don't sue.