Disclaimer: The Twilight Zone is (c) to Rod Serling. Any stories other than my own will have their submitters credited when they're written.

Based Off Of: n/a
Inspired By: n/a

(The Twilight Zone theme begins playing.)

Serling: This is a door. The key is one of imagination. One of sound, one of sight, one of mind, and one of that we do not understand. It is the unknown that leads us here and it is that which keeps us in this mysterious dimension sealed only by this door. Readers, you have just opened this door and, by doing such, have returned to… the Twilight Zone.

(The Twilight Zone theme ends.)

(The scene is an army training field. The privates run into a line and stand erect as a disgruntled man walks up with a cigar loosely hanging from his lips.)

"Alright, you turd nuggets. Last night, I made is specifically clear that no one, and I meant no one, was to eat outside the mess hall. And yet..." The man held up half a donut that's been cut perfectly in half. "I found this is the bunkers last night. It obviously wasn't an ant, a roach, or a moth that did it. How do I know? Because someone took the time to cut it into two perfect little halves. Now, which one of you sniveling snot-nosed sonnuvabitches took it?!" A private smirked and muttered 'It was probably you...'

The man started, then walked right up to the private. "Care to repeat that?" The private shook his head. "Sir, no, sir!" The man smirked. "Is that so...? Well, courtesy of the dipshit that took this donut, you just got yourself breakfast. Eat!" The man threw the donut into the private's hands, who looked at it. "I said eat! And for the rest of you, fifty laps around the premises, courtesy of Mr. Giggles here."

The other privates yelled 'Sir, yes, sir!', then began running off grumbling amongst themselves as the private who stayed behind relunctantly took a bite of the donut. "And I want to hear singing! How about... Barbie Girl! That seems like a nice litle tune, doesn't it?" The privates began singing as they jogged. "I can't hear you!!"

As the group sang louder, the private finished off the donut. "Well, private, looks like you enjoyed that little snack. You know, you're a prime example of why this country is going to Hell in a handbasket. Now, because of that little remark, a hundred laps. Move!" The man watched with delight as the private took of running, then laughed as he listened to the other privates singing."

'Portrait of a drill sergeant, Gregory Stain, who's made it his life's work to belittle and demean his soldiers until they crack under pressure. For Mr. Stain, anything less than perfection is unacceptable.'

(The camera turns to Serling, who walks out of the nearby mess hall.)

'In just a moment, Mr. Stain will finally obtain that which he desires so badly. But the cost for such a reward is a one-way trip... to the Twilight Zone.'

Episode Two
Practice Makes Perfect

That night, everyone was sleeping soundly when Stain burst through the doors screaming 'Up and at 'em!' The privates groaned and one looked at the clock. "Sir, with all due respect, it's only three." Stain grew wide-eyed, then marched over to him, lifting him into the air by his collar. "Is that so?! Are you waiting to go to school, son?! I guess the country screwed up and instead of bringing me new recruits, brought a bunch of kids instead! Well, in that case, everone gets five more minutes!"

Several privates shrugged and laid back down. "Everyone who just laid down gets nothing 'til lunch and furthermore, they get to clean up after." The privates groaned and slowly got up. "Faster, ladies!" Within seconds, the privates stood in a line with their eyes half-open. "Do you enjoy harassing us?" Stain dropped the private, then turned to another. "Pardon me...?" The private repeated himself and Stain marched right up to him.

"Yes, I do. And as a matter of fact, your name from this day until you leave my eyes for good is Private Pissant." The private frowned. "Sir, my name is-" "Your name is Private Pissant! Say it!" The private growled. "My name is Private Pissant, sir!" Stain grew wide-eyed again. "Your name is Private Pissant?! What kind of mother would do that to her kid?!"

Two other privates chuckled, but stopped when Stain turned to them. "Dipshit and Doorknob respectively." The privates stood erect. "Our names are Dipshit and Doorknob respectively, sir!" Stain started and walked over to them. "Your names are Dipshit and Doorknob respectively?! And here I thought Mr. Pissant's mother was a bad one!"

Stain turned around, still wide-eyed. "Does anyone else have a bad mother?!" Everyone remained quiet and Stain growled. "I said does anyone else have a bad mother?!" The privates stood erect. "Sir, no, sir!" Stain smirked. "Very good. Meet me outside in five." Stain walked outside, satisfied with the early morning events. Outside, Stain laughed when the privates stood erect in a line.

"Well, this is a surprise! Up so early? You must really be gluttons for pain. Very well. I'll give you pain. Twenty miles. Let's move!" Stain began jogging and the privates reluctantly followed. After a minute or two, Stain began making them recite the words to Margaritaville. However, two privates in the back refused to speak, instead conversing amongst themselves.

"Stain is such a fucking prick."

"You shouldn't compliment him like that."

"I think that we should wait until night, then kill him."

"With what? A plastic fork?"

"I don't know! A rock, his pillow... Just as long as we don't have to put up with his shit anymore."

"I think that this is a bit thicker than shit."

"You don't say..."

The two privates started. They'd finally noticed that the group had stopped singing and Stain was now right behind them. "You know..." Stain slid his arms around the two privates' shoulders. "That's murder you're planning there, boys. So, who's gonna die? Oh right... I am. Isn't that right?"

The privates stood there, frozen in terror. "Isn't that right?!" The privates stood erect. "Sir, yes, sir!" Stain frowned and, in one swift move, slammed their heads together. "Dumbasses." One of the privates groaned and slowly got up. "Good, you're still conscious. Pick up your friend here and let's move." The private wobbled, then fell back down when Stain pushed him with his foot.

"Come on, you pussy! Pick your ass up and be a man for once!" Again, the private stood up and wobbled before being pushed down by Stain again. "Permission to speak freely, sir!" Stain frowned, then crossed his arms. "I'm listening." The private stood erect. "If I may, I suspect that Private Willis has a concussion." Stain looked at the private as he stood up, then he pushed him down yet again.

"What are you? Some kind of doctor?" The private tried his best not to smirk. "Sir, yes, sir! I got my medical degree in college, sir!" Stain grew wide-eyed, in a state of mock-surprise. "Is that so? Well then, doctor, you can carry Mr. WIllis and his unconscious friend here." The private started. "Sir... I... I can't cary that much weight, sir..."

Stain walked right up into the private's face. "Tat's because you're a bigger pussy than Mr. Willis here! "I got my medical degree in college...' On a scale of one to ten, look at my face and tell me how much of a shit I give." The private grew silent. "Answer me, private!!" The private started. "Sir, I would have to guess zero, sir." Stain punched the man in the stomach and frowned as he fell to the ground. "I said on a scale of one to ten, dumbass."

He looked up and pointed at a smal trio of privates. "You guys like pussy, don't you?" The privates slowly nodded. "I can't hear you!" The privates spoke their answer this time. "Well lucky you. You three get to carry some pussy all the way back. Now move!" The privates ran to pick up the three fallen figures as Stain laughed to himself. 'God, I love this job.'

That night, as everyone was sleeping, two figures, each about eight feet tall walked in, looked around, and muttered stuff to themselves in their native language.

"The human leader, he treats his followers badly, but they appear to have no authority to actually respond to it."

"Indeed. These humans are a primitive and stupid race. Still, as our brethren before, let us experiment."

"Yes, indeed. But how so?"

"This human leader, this Stain. He strives for perfection."

"Prefection? Indeed! But it will require vast amounts of energy."

"Indeed. But perhaps one day, our efforts here will be used to domesticate the humans."

"Indeed!"

The two figures pulled out a strange device and held into the air. there was a largeflash, then they pocketed the device and pullled another one out. It walked over to one of the beds and held it above a private's head. Nodding satisfyingly, he checked several others befor returning to his friend's side. "The experiment seems to have worked, but only time will tell. Let us leave this place and watch from afar."

The two figures nodded in unison, then they both left. The next morning, the privates walked outside and stood in a line as Stain marched up, then spoke without waiting for an answer. "Sleep well? That's fantastic!" Stain pulled a stopwatch out. "Do you know what this is?" None one spoke and Stain growled. "I asked you a question, maggots!" One of the privates stood erect. "That is a stopwatch, sir!"

Stain nodded. "Very good. It does appear that you're capable of actually thinking. Well then, let's see if you can run fast. I want two laps around this field in two minutes." The private's jaw dropped and he looked around the massive field. "I said move!" The private took off running the instant Stain pushed the start button." Stain then turned to his troops. "And as for you nitwits, I want five laps in four minutes!" Stain started when he saw no one paying attention.

"Do you all possess a mental defect or something?!" Onev of the privates pointed and Stain turned to see the private running faster than anyone he'd ever seen before. "What the hell?!" Everyone watched as he finished the lap, then ran up to Stain and saluted. "Sir!" Stain instictively stopped the timer and looked down at it. Two minutes even.

Stain's cigar nearly fell ferom his lips, but instead, he smirked. "That was one lap in two minutes, buddy." One of the privates cleared his throat and Stain turned unhappily towards him. "I was watching him the whole time, sir. That was two laps." Everyone nodded as Stain cleared the current time on the stopwatch. "Lying sacks of shit. No one can run that fast. Just to prove a point, I want..."

The privates saluted and Stain turned around, promptly saluting as well. "Colonel Flaire!" The colonel smirked. "At ease. So, I see you're training the latest batch of soldiers." Stain laughed. "These guys could hold a gun if it was taped to their hands." Stain turned around and gave his most sinister smirk. "Just to prove a point. I want all of you to run three laps in two minutes." Colonel Flaire started. "Bit excessive, isn't it?"

Stain smirked. "With all due respect, sir, these are my soldiers. I train them as I see fit." Flaire nodded and backed up. "Move!" The timer started and the troops took off running. Flaire turned to Stain as he chuckled. "The council is considering dismissing you." Stain started. "On what grounds?" Flaire motioned to the soldiers. "Excessive training styles." Stain laughed, then turned to the privates. He gasped and the cigar dropped from his lips.

Flaire followed his gaze and found the soldiers running faster than any human ever had before... and all while marching in a perfect line. "What the hell...?" The two watched as they circled the field, then ran back up to Stain at the same time and saluted. "Sir!" Stain stopped the watch and looked down. Two minutes even.

Over the next few weeks, the privates executed ever command perfectly, despite Stain's attempts to make them fail. FInally, Colonel Flaire returned and handed Stain an envelope. "Don't say it." Flaire sighed. "Don't fucking say it." Flaire swallowed. "You're being discharged." Stain slammed his fist onto the desk and growled.

"These privates, they've done things humans normally can't. The council doubts that you had to do anything with it, so they're letting you go on the grounds of being..." Stain looked up with a spark in his eyes that made Flaire back up. "Don't... say it..." Stain opened the envelope, read it, tore it up, and stormed out of the building. "God help that man..."

Two weeks later, Colonel Flaire decided to see how he was doing. He went to knock on the door, but Stain replied, 'It's open...' before he even knocked. Flaire opened the door and gasped. Stain had easily put on at least thirty pounds. There were junk food wrappers and cartons all over the place and Stain was eating ice cream straight from the carton while watching game shows. "My God..."

Stain snorted. "I'd salute, but I'd have to get up." Flaire frowned and pulled him off the couch with both hands. "What the hell happened to you?!" Stain snorted and threw the half full, half melted craton of ice cream across the room. "This country and everyone living in it is going to Hell in a handbasket. So, I might as well make the most of it."

Flaire frowned, visably unpleased. "Outside. Now." Stain walked outside and into the massive rainfall without even putting on a coat. Flaire sighed and held up his umbrella as he walked outside as well. Stain began slowly walking as Colonel Flaire followed. After a few minutes, Stain fell to the ground and began sobbing, to the dismay of Flaire.

"It wasn't possible... They... They did everything so... perfectly... It just isn't possible..." Flaire sighed, then walked over to pick him up, but Stain swung his arm, causing the colonel to back up. "Don't touch me!" Shaking his head, Flaire decided to simply walk off, leaving Stain to sob on the sidewalk.

'Portrait of a man who strived for perfection and got it, but as a result, fell victim to something he hated even more than imperfection: being obselete. Now, Mr. Gregory Stain, ex-drill sergeant, lays battered and broken on the doorsteps... of the Twilight Zone.'