(no subject)

Dec 18, 2009 09:00

"Okay, uh, question...." The man in long-worn and often-repaired Marine Corps urban camo fatigues reaches up to scratch at something just under his helmet with one thumb. "Say you been out of commission a good twenty years'r so on account of forces beyond your control, 'n by forces beyond your control I mean greyfaced-"

There is a brief but impassioned string of profanity involving a man in a suit, unspeakable acts perpetrated upon sheep, and the likelihood of four or five generations' worth of consanguinuity in the suit-wearer's ancestry.

"-who figgered you might be a security risk... anyways, you been out of commission twenty years, you're just gettin' the hang of bein' out 'n about in a world that's been overrun with a whole lot of alien hoo-ha 'n got conquered by a bunch of psychic space maggots. 'n a couple weeks after you got back into circulation your brother shows up lookin' for you 'n gives you hell for makin' the whole damn family back home think you was dead 'cause you didn't talk to no one for twenty years. D'you smack him for bein' an idiot 'n then answer the question, punch him for bein' an idiot 'n answer the question, or answer the question 'n just call him a frickin' moron?"
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