STALINGRAD STORY
“You’re one trained warfighter. Can you take on the challenge,” said then-General Mattis, in a collective Marine Corps. event horizon, “only with an LBV?”
“Hell, yes,” was the response.
“You, there. Here is weapon, but no cartridges.”
“Time to join the gun club,” screamed the motivated man, butt stroking the known villainous artist, Cypher. In league with Banks’s, and John K.
“With no pesky cartridges,” added Jim, “what a club it is. Unlike this rough hewn wood.”
“Yes,” replied Stranger Things,”sir.”
“You,” he said naturally, “take rough hewn wood.”
Down the line he went.
“Will you fight in the buff?”
“Grauuuugh!”
At a full-tilt sprint, he took off.
“And for you! A single Canteen. Very much like a rifle from the future. Light.”
“It’s empty!”
“Col Tso!”

“Yes, sir.”

Off to the MISHMASH tent, for nourishment.

“For you.”

“A funnel with sponge!”

“Biathalon trainer.”

“God Bless you, sir.”

“Spork!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Glove inserts.”

“Bullseye from American camp. Wear with pride.”

“I will,” said “Dr. Death.”
“And for you, giant rodent.”

Juice.

“From zoo, concluded Mattis, “standard non silverback Primate. I have a man for this.”

Troop.

END.