Truth or Dare: True Lies

2006
“Wait one, Black.”
“How am I looking?”

The MP said nothing.

Then:

“It’ll be a while.”
Regs. I laid put my fantasy powerpoint, from Camaro. Back to Basix. Come ova tonight. Were those dudes making fun of my adolence! Fucking Jive.

Jive!

Britney’ll always be Britney. Bitch.

“…and that was my first touchless. I didn’t even know who Jamie Curtis was just that Star Trek: TNG had done the same thing earlier that week with the -not the movie- not her. The great cat Kim Catrell Vulcand but the pon farr, I assume, teevee female Vulcan. Maybe my neighbor was playing pranks her whole life but I was unappealing then as Arnold. Slide. This new True Lies will do more for the Marine Corps. Then I could ever do to hide it and the seething dream diary of mine, under the rack, glossery atop HVAC, about Alpha CO’s lovely wife. Why is he so on my mind! How I’d like to get me a piece of that. What! No. Give me that camera! Good afternoon S’arnt Major.”

I always wanted to get dad his own jet. The first step? Getting it off the tarmac.

Blind. I doubt it! Of, course. Highjacking? Not today, you psyclo!

“You saw the movie!”

Dad could have been a Marine. God has a hardon for grounding Simon to the electric chair in JFK’s car.

Cameron’s

1970 AD

Or

MCRD (SF) Sand Flea [1.]

“Oh-three. Infantry! You made it. N-word.”

Dad. His colorful knickname, soon leaving Paris’s Island.

“It’s been a long time,” a voice propelled,

“what’s your rifle called!”

“Roberta.”

He named his rifle Roberta!

“Goddamgranpa, It has been a while. Mabel.”

Paul T. Black renamed his rifle.

“Remember, when you’re home with Mary Jane suck-me-off, that you said I could! Come home and f*** your…”

My grandfather, also Robert, waved, seen through the squad bay porthole with Aunt.

“You’ll remember, what the hell’s that!”

The projectile shattering all skeleton paws which he swore, one pip on his shoulder and a pig running by. Followed by a real one!

Bipods flutering the last dresses like a civilian. A real one.

“Silver-mine.”

‘Field, statistically.’

MCRD (HL) Holltwoodland [2.]

1. That’s old school hate. One for the Corps. Recruits!

2. You just don’t. Learn. Brainchildren. For the first Commandant!

Scuttlebutt

3. Meet him! He doesn’t have much time. PHeard impersonating CWO-5.

Truth

4. The only thing they have on that salt dog* is General Article. Misnomer! Always saying to no-one: “Do you have what it takes to be one of The Fewer. The Prouder. The Women Marines.”

*bird, falcon

Hiii The Neighborhood app is geared against us Falcons. Crew. Bulldog (USMN eau de toilet) smells good. Real good.

How am I looking, freezer Todd from Steven King’s It?

Regs.

“Master Guns.”

Different. Deadlier. India.

Ohh-AHH Alpha .

.

.

She wasn’t home. What? No, unlike the green weenie I was not implying sexual assault. I was implying stilettos from when I dropped the ball so bad, Marcinko punched us all into computers so those special warfare hot shots could by enough time to get us out of …

Out of that mess.

I motion we change the green weenie to Slimethor, as it is inferred you must slay him on the moon for rank and career path, not sexual assault. Please remove stiletto from my back SAD take it out! Take it out man!