Operations tent

WE MEASURED EACH OTHER UP almost comically,full minutes of silence with all the stereotypical chin rubbing and scalp scratching. My superiors, hatchers of the grand plans, architects of campaigns, boasters of clean fingernails, wearers of many marks and medals . . . face to face with the ingenuous visage of the cornerstone to their attack plan, a marksman with a talent they couldn't comprehend but were fervent to harness in the context of their crackpot attack schemes. Wait, I'm forgetting: what makes me subordinate to you again? Oh yeah, some arbitrary primitive technique for a barbaric society to deem some leaders and mosts grunts.

The funny thing is, in all that innocent deliberating--ponderous frown, inflated lower lip--the wages measured were always in denominations of death.



pssst. . .sign the guestbook!