Friday, December 28, 2012

Ya we'll do that... squalor.

"Sgt. X surveyed the expanse of death and carnage laid out before him.  Each and every body part would have to be identified, tagged, bagged and shipped off to the receiving center.  Normally this would be a task he would assign to his Corporal, but a recent tragedy of unmentionable proportions had rendered his poor assistant unable to move or pro-create.  The Sgt. lit up the soggy butt of a stogie and inhaled that first putrid blast of recently extinguished tobacco.  Bag in hand, he set off across the marsh, balancing himself on the scattered debris and foliage as he attempted to pick the flesh out of the earth..."

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