A/N: Was feeling silly.
Disclaimer: I make no money off this, and I mean no offense to the actual men as this is based off the miniseries and not them.
Sizzuhs
He'd kill for a pair of scissors. He'd murder, strangle, beat or kick anyone for any kind.
He wasn't a selfish man; he only asked for what he absolutely needed. He didn't care what kind they were, honest. They could be pink with girly flowers on them or a rusty pair of unwieldy shears, and he'd dance and sing with joy.
It wouldn't be his, though: there were no scissors to be had in all of Bastogne. He'd perish with longing for them. He'd wander the forests like a misplaced Cajun wraith, howling and moaning, wishing eternally for a pair of scissors.
"Maybe I'll die without eva getting' them sizzuhs. My spirit'll wander this cold place foreva like a ghost or," he paused and cast a fearful look at the dark woods surrounding him, "maybe the loup garou will get me afore I get the chance to die!" He shuddered and moaned, his pale Cajun features twisted in misery. There was nothing he feared more than being away from his beloved Louisiana swamps for all eternity.
The very thought brought him to his knees and had him screaming, to the amusement and horror of his fellows, "SIZZUHS!! Lawd, give me some damn SIZZUHS!!"
Captain Ron Speirs, who stood a few feet behind Doc Roe, shook his head at the impassioned display and said softly, "Poor Doc. Finally lost his mind." He shook his head again and kept on his way.
Doc Roe was oblivious to it all. He really wanted some scissors.
-End-