You'd Better Not Fuck This One Up, Private!

by Jon Wayne Pluko So there I was, facing my greatest enemy... teenage pregnancy. I didn't have a lot of choices, so I married the bitch. Sure, I was twice her age, but I wouldn't be twice her age forever. You see... we'd both be aging at the same rate, so that thirteen year difference would have been less significant when I was ninety-nine and she was eighty-six. So, there I was, in the Saudi Arabian desert, standing on the wrong end of a loaded gun. I wasn't afraid though, because I have lightning fast reflexes. I grabbed the gun from my assailant and forced it down his throat. So there I was, waiting on the top of a sandy hill. My target was nearly insight. You see... I was a sniper, just like in the movie, 'Sniper'. The only difference was that my target was my mother. We received word that she was a Saudi operative. I know what you're thinking, "so what?? the Saudi's were on our side, the Iraqis were the bastards"... but I didn't see it that way. It was my war... and if someone looked Arabic, then he or she was the target. That's how it came about that I had to shoot my own mother. Now I know what you're thinking, "Does your mother look Arabic?". The truth is... not really, but I wasn't there to make such distinctions. After all, my motto is 'shoot first, party later'. So there I was, at the biggest party of my life. It was great. I banged a bunch of chicks and everyone loved me. I was the life of the party. I'm the coolest person ever, ask anyone.