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“No dumb bastard ever won a war by going out and dying for his country. He won it by making some other dumb bastard die for his country.” GENERAL GEORGE S. PATTON
This is a human. This one is something called a Canadian. Part French. Part maple syrup. He’s weirdly obsessed with ice hockey and snowmobiles and semi-erotic lumberjack fan fiction. Has a well-worn Tim Hortons loyalty card in his Velcro wallet. He says “aboot” instead of “about” and gets really, really upset when you point it out, claiming you’re hearing things and that it’s a harmful stereotype. It’s not a stereotype, and that’s exactly how it sounds. He has a relative who was trampled to death by a moose. You get the idea.
“Mongo, we do not eat people unless mommy gives the order. Carl, if he gets worms, I’m blaming you. He looked like someone who might give worms.”
Someone’s name can have a direct effect on the path they take in life. For example, have you ever met someone named Lacey who wasn’t a complete trainwreck? Or a boy named Jason who didn’t think he was always the main character? Names are important, Carl.
Donut sniffed angrily. “Carl, if this turns into some weird, furry porn thing, I’m going to lose my absolute shit.”
The Inevitable Ruin. That’s what their queen used to call this moment. The moment you realized there was no hope, nothing left to do, and all that was left was to die and reflect upon what you’ve already done while you waited. To ruminate on how you’ve helped the colony, and to beg forgiveness of God for not sacrificing enough.
“We’re going to bathe in apostate blood,” Todd added, waving his dulled spear. He ended up smacking Jamal with it, who yelped in surprise. “Sorry, Jamal.”
Behind me, Dong Quixote slipped into the empty gunner’s seat. He had his “flail” across his lap. He held the crusty nickel sock up and laughed quietly, whispering something about long-term investments and short-term gains.
“In the eternal words of my mulleted friend, Holger. You done stuck your pecker in the wrong beehive.”
When Big Things happen on such a large scale, it’s easy to forget sometimes that these Big Things are also happening to the little things in the world.
Blood was so much more red when it was spilled from someone you loved.
What, did he turn into a robot fly or something?
