Commander Weise looked up from his desk, watching in unamused scorn as some fool began spitting on him. Once the tirade had ceased, he leaned forward slightly.
"So comrade, you wish to fight for the Revolution?"
"YES!!! LET ME FLY!!!"
"Err... I would, but spitting on a Commander of the Fighter Corps is generally considered a Bad Thing..."
BlamBlamBlamBlamBlamBlam!
Weise lowered the smoking machine pistol, and appreciatively blew smoke from the barrel. As the knock at the door sounded, he frowned, giggled, and lowered the weapon.
"Come Iiiiiin!" He sang in a high falsetto.
As Ryans entered the room, the door was slammed behind him, and the lights dimmed as Weise slapped his subgun onto the desk and tilted his chair backwards.
"So, comrade... why shouldn't I just turn your head into paste?"
Jack Handey Wrote:I can picture in my mind a world without war, a world without hate. And I can picture us attacking that world, because they'd never expect it.
