Tag: war

Sent for takeout

575031

Shubblurbpop’s slave-vessel landed, quickly blackholing its shattered jumpcore before disgorging its human cargo for processing.
“Ship’s a wreck, Your Slimeness” said the spaceport administrator. “Where’s the rest of your fleet?”
“Lost it,” said Shubblurbpop. “Bad maps.”
“Good luck explaining it,” said the administrator.
Heading back home, the oozeway was busier than usual, but Shubblurbpop arrived before Mudfall.
“Announcing Shubblurbpop!” shouted the palace pages.
“Um… I wrecked the fleet, Dad,” said Shubblurbpop.
His father writhed pseudopods in annoyance, but Queen Pipblipshububble soothed his rage and welcomed her son home.
“Did you bring Chinese?” asked the Queen.
Shubblurbpop nodded.
All was forgiven.

Send in the clowns!

407324

The 101st Clown Brigade may be the laughingstock of our armed forces, but this doesn’t bother them.
Every division has its Special Comedy Operations component, from the sappers disarming dangerous banana peels to cream pie chefs in the mess hall.
Some say that the Pentagon is full of them.
The most important aspect of the 101st by far is the team of rapid-deployment medical specialists.
After all, isn’t laughter the best medicine?
If you thought that a dozen heavily-armed Marines popping out of an APC was an impressive sight, try a few hundred of the 101st coming out of one.

Worth Many More

312680

After eighteen years in the hands of the Arabs, Colonel Rabin was finally coming home.
His plane landed just as the buses full of cheering and jeering prisoners were sent off to the border. Their vicious chants echoed in the distance.
“Vermin,” muttered one of the honor guard.
Rabin’s wife waited as the plane rolled to a stop.
The cargo doors opened, and her husband’s casket was unloaded.
“Why is one dead man worth dozens of live terrorists?” asked the honor guard.
“He’s worth far more than that,” said his commander. “And that is to the shame of the enemy.”

The White Flag

241832

Alexandre’s unit was surrounded and running out of ammunition. The enemy was closing in and the situation looked bleak.
“Options?” he asked the men.
Nobody wanted to be the first to say surrender.
A mortar whistled overhead, and everyone ducked.
“We’ll surrender,” said Alexandre. “Time for the white flag.”
Alexandre looked around, but all of the bandages were soaked bloody red.
He broke open a laundry parcel, but someone had washed the sheets with something red and they’d been stained pink. “Will pink work?” he asked the men.
He tried it, and it sure gave the enemy a good laugh.

Les Nessman and Saddam’s genocidal campaign against the Marsh Arabs

232095

Les Nessman didn’t feel like he had to share an office with others, so he had tape on the floor to lay out the boundaries of his imaginary office.
Pathetic, but amusing.
What if Les Nessman had been sent to Iraq to cover Saddam’s genocidal campaign against the Marsh Arabs and had ended up in a mass grave with tens of thousands of other victims? Would he have marked out the boundaries of his own “personal grave” to set him apart from the others he was forced to share a grave with?
Of course not, stupid. Because he’d be dead.

Do Donkey Suicide Bombers Get 72 Virgin Donkeys?

315056

Mohammed loaded the donkey with explosives, said his final prayers, and headed for the checkpoint.
“The Zionist infidels will drown in their own blood,” he mumbled.
Mohammed was tempted to squeeze the trigger early, but Achmed had
said “At the front of the line!”
“But what of the people in line?” he had asked Achmed.
“Seventy-two virgins for each,” was the response.
“And the donkey?” he asked.
“Seventy-two virgins for him, too.”
Donkey virgins?
“Next!” yelled the soldier.
Suprised, Mohammed looked around and squeezed.
Nothing.
The next day, soldiers surrounded Achmed.
He didn’t surrender.
“Seventy-two virgins for him,” mumbled Mohammed.

The off-season

235700

A boot strikes the beach, then a knee, a large metal helmet with a ridiculous amount of plumage, and finally a Spanish Flag.
“I claim this land in the name of Queen Isabella,” cries the explorer.
Thirty feet down the beach, the same process is repeated for the glory of Portugal. Fifty feet beyond that, God is implored to save the British Queen.
Soon, the beach was filled with flag-waving, angry explorers.
Concealed in the tall grass, the natives laughed.
“Two bushels of maize on Birdman,” said Walks With Limp to Sneaking Weasel.
“In the end,” mumbled Shaman, “we lose.”

Daliwali

217856

“Fifty billion” said Thabo, watching the telly of the G-8 press conference.
“That’s an awful lot of jack,” said Mohammed. He crushed his soda can and tossed it into the wastebasket. “Awful nice of the blokes to offer it up. So, how do we get our mitts on it?”
“We just need a name, a flag, and a big enough bag,” said Thabo.
Mohammed reached into the wastebasket.
“Daliwali,” he read from the can.
“Pretty.” Thabo smiled. “How about the flag?”
Seven hours and two suit rentals later, they were heading to Edinburgh.
All in the good name of Daliwali.

I love a parade

230841

It’s morning in Guantanamo Bay Prison. Wakey wakey, everyone.
Normally the guards yank a detainee out of their cell, strip them, put a frilly dress on them, and parade them around the camp.
However, it’s the Fourth Of July, and things get a little patriotic.
“Open 157!” shouts a voice.
Mohammed rips another page out of his Koran, sighing. He’s used to the drill.
“Forget the beard,” says a corporal.
Mohammed goes limp, letting them clothe him in the red, white, and blue suit.
“Now get on the stilts, Uncle Sam,” said the lieutenant. “And mind the hat. It’s windy.”

Soldiers

319083

Alarms went off. Davidson stubbed out his twizzlestick, waved the purple vapors out of the air, and went back to work.
TARGET? asked the viewport.
“Quadrant 3,” said Davidson, twiddling the viewport’s knobs. “Section 5. Platoon 37. Unit 9-alpha.”
Davidson blinked as his avatar flew through the fields of vat-grown soldiers.
Powerful.
Identical.
Almost perfect.
Except for Q3-S5-P37-9a. He was better.
Every now and then, a drone’s matrix would self-enhance, and its milk-white skin would turn dark.
“Obtain,” said Davidson.
Tendrils reached from the ground and pulled Q3-S5-P37-9a into the placentadirt.
OBTAINED.
Davidson smiled. The dark ones were worth bonuses.