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A Miner Threat
By justin | January 8, 2008
Private Pete was a private in the U.S.A. Army of America. It was his first day in the army and he was doing his best to make a good first impression. He was a minesweeper. He made a lot of friends because he was a cool guy with a hot girlfriend (supermodel Kathy Ireland) and an awesome car (a 1986 Ferrari Testarossa). The day was almost over when he heard his name called over the intrecom instructing him to go to the head office. His boss at the army, General Patton Q. Howitzer, called him into his office and told him it was his job to sweep the battlefield for mines before the big war. “The big war is tomorrow, private,’ said the General, “and we need the batlefield swept for mines so that our soldiers don’t get blown to smithereens!”
“But sir,” said Pete, “this is my first day in the Army! Shouldn’t this operation be left for someone with more experience?”
“What is your major malfunction, maggot,” barked the General. “If I wanted to answer questions I would have challenged you to a round of Trivial Pursuit! Do I make myself clear, Private?”
“Sir, yes sir,” saluted Pete.
Pete gathered up his minesweeping supplies and headed toward the battlefield. The cool night breeze whipped through his flowing blonde hair like a bunch of hip urban youths performing a high-speed supercharged Tokyo drift around an inner-city street corner. “This place is a mess,” riffed Pete. “Time to sweep it up.”
With the grace of an eagle and the majesty of a faster, smarter, cooler eagle, Pete set to work. He was spitting out flags and marking territory much like a pitbull with a hyperactive bladder. No soldiers were going to die on his watch. He took a minute to reflect upon the horrors of war.
From far off in the distance, Pete heard the faint notes of the Army’s marching song, Rollin’ by Limp Bizkit. As he struggled to hold back the tears of respect for all it represented he knew there was still one more mine out there. But oh no! He was all out of flags… except for one. The mother of all flags, Old Glory herself. Pete pulled the flag from his satchel and thinking back upon former American heroes like George Washington, Hulk Hogan, Mick Jagger and Most Xtreme Primate, deftly hurled it across the battlefield. It punctured the dirt like a hot needle puncturing the scarred face of a socially awkward 14-year old. At just that moment the rest of the Army showed up to fight the war. Pete breathed a sigh of relief. Democracy had been saved.
That night after the war had ended, the other soldiers threw Pete a big party and told him how cool he was. Then the phone rang! Pete picked it up and it was none other than the President! The President of America! “Bang up job, Pete! Or should I say General Pete?”
“What do you mean, sir,” questioned Pete.
“In light of your recent accolades I have decided to promote you to General of the Army,” juristicted the President. “Effective immediately!”
Pete turned and faced the soldiers who were giving him a rousing ovation of respect similar to that received by Keenan Ivory Wayans whenever he’d appear on the Arsenio Hall show. “As my first order as General of the army,” speeched Pete, “I’m commanding all of you to eat pizza and ice cream! And remember, that’s an order! Oh, and Private Howitzer, I’ve got a special assignment for you.”
“W…what’s that sir,” toadied the former General.
“Lick. My. Boots.”
Then Kathy Ireland gave Pete a blowjob in his Ferrari while they flew to Paris for a romantic triste (the car could fly too).
Topics: By: Justin | No Comments »