The Adventures of General GrettaBot McDoglington Vs. the Squirrel Armada
(Author’s note- The Adventures of General Grettabot McDoglington is best read aloud using a super-hero voice, like Batman whispering.)
I have been re-stationed to a region in the North. My new post is a top-secret, highly embattled territory known to the locals as New Jersey. Often (while on patrol in the Subaru Humvee) the Leader refers to the local populations loudly and abruptly as #$*@&%$ Jersey Drivers! He raises a finger that I can only assume means number one in ranking for skill, since he only uses the one. Sometimes his exclamations are followed by a beep of the horn and always muttering about the how much the locals must love their mothers. This is just one more reason I fight the good fight.
Our barracks are part of a heavily fortified structure, located three levels above the battleground, up a winding staircase, behind several confusing sets of doors. It is also deep behind enemy lines. I have been here almost a month and am still ascertaining the correct procedure to enter and exit. Just yesterday, the Leader returned from a long day’s fight. He smelled of sweat and serpent musk. As per the new protocol, he attached a battle-lead to my uniform once he got to the top of the stairs. I was so eager to go on foot-patrol, I scouted ahead, down the stairs, at a full charge. Unfortunately, my battle-lead was wrapped around the Leader’s legs and since he was still facing the other direction when I shot past, he did not follow me down in the usual bi-pedal manner.
Instead, he practiced a rare backwards combat roll. The purpose of the maneuver confused me. I wouldn’t be an honest soldier if I said that I wasn’t frightened by the sudden clatter of elbows on stairs and the Leader’s head thudding into the wall at the bottom. He shouted a battle cry so loud upon its raucous completion that I was instantly spurned to further excitement and bloodlust, thus partially expressing it in liquid form on the floor beside him. I hadn’t been on foot-patrol in several hours and desperately needed a privy break.
As he slowly recovered to an upright position, he placed one knee and his hand into the fresh territorial marking puddle I had just created. Realizing what he had done, a fresh volley of battle cries ensued. Upon our eventual exit of the battlements, there was not a single tree-rat in sight. They had all been cowed by the Leader’s shouts to victory. In fact, the troops stationed on the first level of the fort came out to check for casualties. The Leader explained the situation while I stayed on guard and peed in the azaleas. You’re mine now, azaleas, freed from the tyranny of the bastardly squirrel armada.
And so we fight the good fight one more day, one shrub at a time. Until next time, comrades, remain vigilant!
-General Grettabot McDoglington
Side note- here is a link to the second half of the last Reptiles Magazine article I wrote about our adventures in Costa Rica. There is a link to the first half, if you haven't read it, at the beginning. Enjoy.