February 1, 2007

• Resolution

  So far, the troops have held the line at the bronchial
  tubes. They’re slowly crumbling, though, and the body is stressed by the sinus
  pain and earaches. The view once again turns to Central Command, where the
  serious-faced lieutenant, alert in spite of six days of hell, enters briskly.

  “Sir, there is news from the digestive system. Negotiations with our
  allies have been successful. They have sent Special Force Z, which are in the
  stomach for processing and deployment. We should start seeing relief in 24-48
  hours, sir.”

  “They sent in the Pink Berets? I couldn’t ask for better news than this!
  How many squadrons are we getting?”

  “Three, sir, one per day. Because of their advanced weaponry and tactics,
  a few of them will go a long way, sir.”

  “Excellent, lieutenant. Make sure everyone gets word so that they can get
  some rest–you never know when we’ll be invaded again.”

  “Consider it done, sir.”

  -J

  • 10:37 am
  • 1 Comment