Bullets

"Joey, stop!" Her voice was nearly hysterical as she was thrown, back and forth into the air. The swing was moving, higher and higher, while its female occupant clinged desperately to the chained handles. Her shrieks were mingled with raucous laughter: she was having fun, but she didn't want to say it.

"Say the magic word..." His voice was high and sing song as he continued to push the tired old swing forwards and backwards.

"Please!"

He laughed, pulling the swing to an abrupt halt. She tumbled off the small seat and onto the woodchips below, landing will a small 'oof'.

"Joey!" she screamed indignantly, gasping for air as her lungs contracted from the sheer force of hitting the ground. Her boyfriend laughed again, wrestling her down so her arms were pinned by her sides.

"Get off me!"

"Nah, I'm having fun..." He leant down to kiss her tender lips, silently rejoicing at the ever so familiar feeling.

"Joey! You weigh a ton!"

"Aw, I was just trying to be romantic." The teenager reluctantly rolled onto the ground beside his girlfriend, keeping a firm grasp of her left hand. He loved how perfectly her hand fit into his, like two jigsaw pieces destined to be together. Giving a content sigh, the eighteen-year-old let his gaze drift to the peaceful night sky, where the first stars could just be seen poking through their dark surrounds.

After a moment she spoke, her voice gentle. "Joey, its getting dark... we should probably head home. You know my parents."

"Mmm." Joey felt too relaxed to want to move. He was with the one he loved, away from the world and away from reality. Here he didn't have to worry about college applications or what Melanie's parents thought of him. He could've lay there with his girlfriend forever.

"Come on." She pulled him up from the ground.

"But I was having fun!" Joey pouted, crossing his arms stubbornly once on his feet.

"Doing what?" Melanie asked exasperatedly, lifting a hand to wipe a stray strand of dark blonde hair from her forehead.

"This." He stepped forward and pulled her into a close kiss, wishing once again that he could be with his dearly beloved forever.

"Adie, must we watch this?" Billie slumped down on the cushy lounge, lifting his arm to allow his wife to move closer. He snatched the remote from her grip, giving an evil smile as he threatened to change the channel from the current episode of America's Next Top Model. Surely, there were more important things to watch, he thought, rather than pointless reality television.

"Billie," whined Adrienne. She sat up, looking directly into her husband's green eyes and holding out her hand expectantly. "I was here first, meaning I have control over the TV. Alright?"

Billie rolled his eyes, tilting his head toward the relatively large TV screen. A young model was explaining the reason for the catfight that had occurred between her and another contestant in tears.

"Adie, I know you better than that."

"And what's wrong with my choice in television?" she demanded, unable to stop the cheeky smile on her face from surfacing. Her brown eyes softened. "Give me back the remote, please?"

Billie paused, pretending to reconsider his decision. Yet within a second he pounced onto his wife, throwing the remote away and beginning to tickle her. He laughed as she picked up a cushion and attempted to pound him into submission, only to collapse back onto the lounge.

"I win-"

Yet just as Billie spoke he and his wife were interrupted by a breaking news bulletin. With a confused mumble, he rolled off his wife and back onto the cushy leather lounge. He noticed the sombre expression on the female newsreader's face and could immediately feel his attention sharpen.

"Good evening. We interrupt this program to bring a special announcement from the White House.

"A short while ago it was acknowledged that the situation in Iraq has been steadily worsening in recent months."

"Well there's a surprise," Billie muttered sarcastically.

The newreader, however, continued.

"In response to this situation and the dwindling number of troops, the President has announced for conscription to be reintroduced for all males aged eighteen to twenty-five."

If his attention had been sharp before, it was nothing to what it was now. Billie felt a hot surge of anger flow through his veins like a fresh lot of boiling lava. Trust their idiot for a President to reintroduce something so old-fashioned and impractical. This was something that was common for the World Wars. Not today. It was as though every protest or angry song the rockstar had written throughout his life was nothing.

He looked over to his wife who look equally appalled. Yet she was able to contain the disgust in her voice - he was having trouble resisting the urge to throw the remote he was holding at the stupid television.

"Billie..."

"What are you going to tell me, Adie? This is an outrage! We do not need every fucking eighteen to twenty five year old male in the country to help out in Iraq. And besides, we've been fighting in that country for so long now... has anything really been achieved?"

He could see the fury begin to surface in her so usually gentle brown eyes. But it was obvious what she was trying to do: someone had to act calm and rational while he had his rave.

"Billie, just look at it this way, please - who do we know is going to have to go?"

In the split second that the rockstar had paused to think, Joseph Armstrong arrived home.

"Mum? Dad? I'm home."