We were running low on Faygo & down to smoking straight bullshit. Our Jeckel Brothers-era cheese-dick combat engineer Fat Frank was actually smoking K-2. We all just shook our heads at him & told him he needed to listen to Riddlebox & get his shit together but he just scoffed & called us stale. He’d learn. Either that or he'd get sent back home in a bodybag.

 

The sarge snapped his Boost Mobile closed & cleared his throat.

 

“All right you candy-ass hound-dogging-ass pickle-buffers, I just got off the phone with Lieutenant Stank Nuttz & we’re moving out!”

 

The squad let out a communal grown.

 

“Stow that stale shit, ninjas. Psychopathic platoon is on the move & it’s up to Juggla Squad to take the point.”

 

“Again?” Fat Frank squeeked, blowing out a noxious K-2 cloud.

 

“Yeah, you got a problem with that private fuck-nut?!”

 

Frank just looked down at his Sketchers.

 

“Anyone else got a fucking problem?”

 

“Good, because I will go upside a ninja’s nugget so hard you’ll think the Ringmaster ran you over with all four triple gold Daytons!”

 

The sarge paused. A good leader knows when to give out a little freshness in this stale civil war.

 

“Ok, after we get to the objective point, we’re getting picked up & headed back to the carney grounds for some r&r. There’ll be dime bags of reggie & fat bitches for all of us, Faygo on tap, & brand new limited edition over-sized Anybody Killa hockey jerseys with matching cargo pants, underwear, socks, lighters, shot-glasses, & hats. And don’t quote me on this but rumor is General 2 Dope is going to make an appearance.”

 

The crew started smiling & talking shit, anticipating the sweet embrace of Psychopathic swag, that cool refreshing Faygo in our bellies, puffing on reggie with our pickles getting buffed by juggalettes ready to reward us for fighting the good fight.

 

But I knew the other shoe was about to drop.

 

“Alright shut the fuck up you juffaloes & get your shit together because I swear I will dip my nuts in your k-rations & bust-a-nut on your beef jerky, got it?! And I want every single mother-fack-o in this squad with their nugget on a fucking swivel, got it?!”

 

“We’ve got some new intelligence."

 

The crew looked up in unison.

 

"Twizzler activity has been reported in the area.”

 

There it was. We were finally gonna see some action. I knew right then and there that some of us were not going to make it back to the carney grounds to smoke reggie & sip Faygo."

 

"Some of us were headed to Shangri-La."

 

To be continued…