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Journal: I shoot marines. 1

Journal by NosTROLLdamus
After extended "six month" period in Iraqi waters, the USS John C. Stennis had finally decided to come home to U.S. shores. A large crowd had gathered to pay their respects to the beloved liberaters of freedom, and the parking lot was full of large, "support out troops" sticker incrusted SUVs (so large you don't even have to bend down to put in groceries LOL!), and their equally large and grotesque owners, whose bulbous and sweaty faces glistend with the effort it took them to walk the fucking six feet they needed traverse to get to the waiting area.

In my sleeper-eyed sleeper cell sleepiness, I had forgot to pack more than two bullets for my bushmaster rifle, but this was all I needed. I took aim at a Navy Seal as he exited the ship and took up a position next to a motorcycle enthusiest and a native american. The Navy Seal then reached from his messanger bag to show the motorcylcle enthusiest his new, highly overpriced MAC laptop, when I fired one round. In an instant the bullet easily cut through the MAC's cheap and flimsy chasis, so lovingly made by heterosexual asians for 12 cents a year and hit the, weak, inferior battery, causing it to explode, killing the hell out of any bystanders, while the bullet passed through the seal's heart, making him dead.

In my excitment I fired off another round at the netcraft confirmed last known user of *BSD, who happened to be at the event for some reason. In the blink of an eye he deflected the bullet with an invincible Dell laptop that was simarily equipped to the MAC, yet signifigantly less costly, and infinitely less faggy.

I had failed it. My skill was not enough.

Work expands to fill the time available. -- Cyril Northcote Parkinson, "The Economist", 1955

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