Sin

Walk down the right back alley in Sin Battery, and you can find anything. The losers trying to pretend to be someone. We know they’re idiots. This ain't no battery. These are the bad days. The all-or-nothing days. They're back. I look at the yellow guy named ______y, he’s so certifiable he doesn’t know it. He wears the costume. That there is one damn fine coat you're wearin', I think to myself.

Enter the majors. The very picture of obtuse. Void of leadership and spinal fluid. Every shot I send their way is wasted. An insult is only effective when the recipient is intelligent enough to understand it. I love reserve majors. No matter what you do to them, you don't feel bad. The one is a Mid-Life Crisis poster child. Slowly fading from lack of intellect, stamina and testicles. He’s a forgotten relic and when his career goes go dead, the hell we'll send him to will seem like heaven after what we've done to him. The other one is so dense he’s dangerous. In the field he’s armed and ineffective. We take out his weapons, both of them, but they’re hard to find without a microscope.

The adjutant:

Adjt: I had to fight some reserve officers.
Sarge: Oh, that's lovely. You didn't happen to kill any of them, did you?
Adjt: Nah, I don't think so, but they know they’ve been in a fight, that's for sure.

He’s frustrated from all the stupidity. Who can blame him. That's the thing with Adjutants, sometimes all they gotta do is let it out and a few buckets later there's no way you'd know.

BC Darwin’s waiting room is as stupid as one person can get without being euthanized. He’s awkward and slow, and his awkwardness just makes us all sweat. He asks the adjutant one of his typical stupid questions. The adjt responds. He doesn't quite chop his head off. He makes a Pez dispenser out of him. Little Adjt, you're an angel, you're a saint, you're Mother Teresa, you're Elvis. BC DWR is still desperate for someone to help him be a leader. Yeah and while I’m at it, I’ll go and punch god out.

The scientist is cool, he smells like captains ought to smell.

Walk down the right back alley in Sin Battery, and you can find anything. But what if I'm wrong? I've got a condition. I get confused sometimes. What if I've imagined all this? What if I've finally turned into what they've always said I would turn into? A maniac. A psycho sarge. Fuck it. Hey! There is no settling down! This is blood for blood and by the gallons. This is the old days, the bad days, the all-or-nothing days. They're back!

The light loafered major makes one more plea to gouge this place for another nickel. The cheap fuck. I take out his weapons. Both of them.

I don't know about you, but I'm havin' a ball.