"Good morning, Sarge! You look great today." Simmons said, kissing much ass.
"Kiss ass. Also, if you haven't noticed, it's not morning. It's noon." Grif scoffed. He reached for his packet of rations. "Ah, crackers, beef jerky, and orange juice. Today, we feast like kings." He said sarcastically.
"Shut up, knuckleheads. I, your glorious and ingenious leader, have an important announcement to make." Sarge said.
"What? We're finally going home?" Grif asked.
"What's your problem, Grif?" Simmons asked.
"What's my problem? We've been fighting for years! We fought and ended a civil war! It's about time we all left." Grif complained. "We're back where we started. Bloodgulch. God damned Bloodgulch, God damn it."
"You're not going home, numbnuts. It's just the opposite. We're receiving reinforcements. She should be arriving just about any day now." Sarge said gruffly.
"Reinforcements? Why? We're not even fighting anymore. There is no war. Even Project Freelancer ended. We have literally nothing to do and no reason to be here. Why bring more people into this? It's stupid." Grif questioned.
"We're here because Command wants us to be here, dirtbag. Now shut up and eat your beef jerky." Sarge said.
"Yeah, Grif. Shut up and eat your crackers." Simmons said mockingly.
"Be quiet, kiss-ass." Grif grumbled. "Why do we have to eat this shit anyway?"
"Because none of us can cook except Donut, and he's spending all of his time over at Blue Base with Doc and Caboose." Simmons replied. "Now stop complaining, eat your jerky, and let go of my fucking crackers."
"Fine." Grif grumbled. "I bet you'd be acting like less of an ass if that girl was around."
"S-shut up." Simmons stuttered.
"What's this about a girl?" Sarge asked.
"N-nothing." Simmons stammered. "Wait, the new recruit is a girl?"
"What's her name?" Grif asked curiously.
"No idea." Sarge replied nonchalantly. "I neglected to ask any clarifying questions, which is what any good leader would do. It gives us the element of surprise!" He said, smelling future victory.
"I'm not sure if it works that way." Simmons said.
"Yeah, it's only good if the enemy is surprised. Not the other way around." Grif stated.
"Nonsense! Now, finish your lunch and start patrolling the base. Gotta look out for those dirty Blues, especially since they have not one, but two Freelancers on their team." Sarge ordered.
"But we're not fighting them! We're not fighting anyone! What's the point?" Grif exclaimed. "It makes no sense!"
"We've got to keep up appearances! We can't let them think that we've gone soft! Then we'll look like pansies and they'll be obliged to attack us and plunder our resources!" Sarge said.
"Again, we're not fighting them. We had an agreement. Nobody on either team gets hurt by either team! Plus, we got all of our supplies from the Blues anyway since you destroyed ours during one of your science experiments!" Grif argued.
"That's where your wrong, dirtbag. Nobody but you gets hurt, by either team. And that last sentence of yours is a lie. That never happened."
"Yes it did! You nearly killed Simmons with that EMP blast!" Grif exclaimed.
"I did no such thing! Simmons?" Sarge said gruffly.
"Actually, sir-" Simmons started, but was immediately cut off by Sarge.
"Exactly!" Sarge said. "Now, I want both of you on border patrol, on the double!"
"Hey Simmons, have you ever noticed how everything Sarge says sounds like there's an exclamation point at the end?" Grif asked.
"Can it, dirtbags!" Sarge growled.
"Okay, okay, Jesus Christ!" Grif grumbled, finishing off his last piece of beef jerky. He downed his orange juice, and got up. "C'mon, Simmons, let's check out what the Blues are doing with Donut."
"Hold on a second, let me finish my orange juice." Simmons said, raising a hand.
"Dude, you sound like a third grader. Hurry up and finish." Grif retorted.
"I just don't want to get dehydrated!" Simmons said defensively.
"Yeah, and I bet your mommy told you to drink all of your orange juice so you'd grow up into a big, strong boy!" Grif snorted.
"We're the same height, jackass." Simmons said, through gulps of his orange juice. "You're meaner than the kids on the figure skating team." He said. "Wait, I meant-"
"You were on the figure skating team?" Grif and Sarge asked at the same time.
"No! They just… beat me up and took my lunch money." Simmons said sheepishly. "They kept making fun of me for being in the women's volleyball league."
"Seriously?" Grif said.
"Shut up, those brats are tougher than they look. Some of them were like bodybuilders." Simmons replied.
"Oh, poor Simmons. He was beat up by nine-year-old girls in tutus." Grif snorted.
"They were sixteen!" Simmons retorted.
"Uh, Simmons? I don't think that changes things. Not one bit." Sarge said awkwardly. "Well, I'm going to work on the Warthog. See ya, suckers!" Sarge said, running out the back door.
"Let's just go, Simmons. We have to check on Donut." Grif said. "Speaking of Donut, how does it feel to have been beaten by what is essentially a team of Donuts?"
"Shut up."
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Hey guys! TacoTurtle here. What's up with the people leaving reviews but not following? Remember, one follower=one donut to feed to Donut! He's getting hungry, guys.
