So, there I was.  It should have been another lazy Thursday, but my class had a butt-ton of work due Friday morning, so I was on my way into the schoolhouse to graciously lend my shipmates a hand.  One team, one fight, and all that shit.  This Thursday also happened to be my duty day (I know, "Ha, ha, he said 'doo-dee,' LOLZ!1!" God, I hate children.) so I had to be in uniform if I wanted to leave the barracks.

Now, understand something:  I'm a HUGE fan of the working white uniform, better known as the "Milk Man" outfit, and I take every available opportunity to wear it because it's being replaced as I write this.  The inherent problem with white uniforms is that they are IMPOSSIBLE to keep clean for longer than about three hours.  

I didn't even get that far.

As I was walking in front of building 566, the barracks-turned-hotel on base, I passed under a tree that overhangs the sidewalk.  When I moved under the branches, I heard a rustling/flapping/squawking sound and felt something warm fall on my left arm.  I looked down to see that a bird had TAKEN A SHIT ALL OVER THE LEFT SIDE OF MY WORKING WHITE UNIFORM.

NO ONE shits on me and gets away with it, least of all some retard bird.  So, what'd I do?  You guessed it:  I took flight and chased after that sorry mother-fucker.  He thought he was pretty tricky, dodging and weaving in and out of buildings, but he overestimated my regard for the well-being of non-combatants.  BAM!  I flew through building after building, causing millions of dollars in damage and, in general, ruining people's shit.

I chased him out over the ocean where he'd have nothing to hide behind, took off my cover, and threw it at him, frisbee style.

FACT:  Every dixie cup comes armed with C-4, a proximity fuse, and has a 10 meter kill radius.  BOOM!  From America with love... Douch-bag.

Christ-on-a-crutch, that felt awesome.  In fact, it felt so awesome I decided to celebrate my victory by blowing up some more random shit with my laser-beam-vision (because, of course, ALL sailors have laser-beam-vision), and rounded it all out by pretending like I was going to help some little dick-head's cat out of a tree, but, instead, threw it into an even bigger tree at the last moment... then I set the tree on fire... and laughed.

Man, I rock.

Citizens, if we weren't at war with avian kind (that's the scientific name for birds, idiot) before, we sure as hell are now.  And, it's pretty clear who fired the first shot... and the second shot... and all the shots after that:  ME.  The question is, will you stand and fight as I did, or flee before our future, feathered masters?

The choice is yours.

Disclaimer:  The choice isn't yours, I just say that to make you feel better.  In reality, by reading this, you have been officially conscripted to serve in the Legions of the Revolution and are now legally obligated to do everything I tell you.  Semper Fi.

© 2009 by SGT Pepper

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