My uncle put bomber decals on the front of his car, that big bad shark with stalactite teeth and game show eyes. I tell him I don't get the business with the shark face I mean what does the bomb not go kablooey if it's falling out of a happy plane to which he baps me upside the forehead and spits on my boot.

Uncle tells me the shark goes on the plane the same reason a jolly roger runs up the mast. He says the cannons do the damage but the flag does the work. Says the enemy has it in their mind that they know what the enemy looks like. They got this picture of certain folk that they get told is "the enemy" and when they see a man who fits the bill, well, they ain't afraid, 'cause they been training for the enemy all their life but the MOMENT they see that jolly roger, then they start looking for them bibles. 'Cause they don't think of it as just another enemy after they see that flag, they start wondering if everything they heard about the folks who wave that flag is true. They get reminded of the drawings they were shown by mama and papa, telling em not to go into that line of work, saying it's too dangerous it's too rough asking what if the man with them crossbones comes ‘round?

I say to my uncle that's all well and good but nobody can see the planes up in the sky so what’s it matter? He goes child the mentality goes both ways, you see a tiger you gon' fear a tiger, you fly a tiger you gon' be a tiger. I say uncle I don't know about all that but I do know one thing you've got them shark teeth on your car now and he says to me I do so I say to him what next a fin on the back end and he takes a swig from his flask and he doesn't do nothing but look at the road closer to town and I can tell he's been timing the lights.