| 1:33am:
My
platoon arrives at ground zero: Laburnum Avenue. I
can see the fear in their eyes. I'm trying to keep
morale high, acting like we'll get out of here alive
with those $50 laptops in our hands, but my troops
see past my thin veil of confidence. Something cold
nestles in my belly.
2:14am:
The enemy strikes. I am scoping out our primary target
when a car flies out of nowhere. One of my troops,
Hanrahan, sacrifices himself by pushing me out of
the way. The car splatters him all over the road,
and my platoon spends a fruitless ten minutes trying
to locate his face. This doesn't improve morale.
2:47am:
I am led to believe we have located Hanrahan's face.
It turns out to be a flattened squirrel. War is hell.
3:22am:
A traitor in our midst. I hear one of the other troops
in line whispering something along the lines of "going
to the Apple Store and just buying a damned iBook
instead of waiting in this fucking line all day long."
We've got to keep our wits about us if we have any
chance of surviving this madness. Trust nobody!
3:53am:
Do I smell donuts? Our rations of powdered cheese
and sewer water are running perilously low. I begin
to wonder if the malnourishment is driving me mad.
I swear I smell donuts. Where are they, dammit? WHERE!?!?
4:08am:
The traitor reveals himself. I catch O'Reilly trying
to sneak out of formation, making a run for the parking
lot. Rather than alert the enemy to our position with
heavy artillery, I motion to my squad to throw stealth
bricks at the traitor until he is bloodied and dead.
Nobody abandons the squad!
5:13am:
Reinforcements begin to arrive. Good God — some
of these kids are still in diapers, and some of the
elderly smell like they could use some. How can I
expect these men to fight if they don't even have
the strength to hold an iBook in their hands? This
is going to be a massacre.
5:37am:
Mulder and Jackson ignore my orders and attempt a
covert mission, jumping the fence to acquire an iBook
laptop before zero hour. A squadron of eldery pantsuit-wearing
women rends them to shreds within seconds, and put
the fear of God in what's left of my dwindling squad.
Never get between a senior and a bargain. It's carnage.
5:58am:
A little over an hour until our first tactical strike.
We run battle strategies in the cool pre-dawn air:
How to maintain proper formations in the fog of war.
The morning dew may be cool and refreshing —
but it's slippery. I've seen too many good soldiers
end up in wheelchairs because of that damned morning
dew. I can only hope the rigorous backyard training
exercises on my Slip 'n Slide have prepared us for
the worst.
6:24am:
Everybody is getting extremely anxious. The stench
of vomit is burning in my nasal cavities. I'd give
anything to smell those donuts again right now. I
can't remember what's real anymore.
6:41am:
Tragedy. We lose Smitchkins to a pack of ravenous
wolves. If we'd chased after him we would have lost
the high ground we'd fought all morning to gain. The
lives we've lost so far will not have been in vain!
We will make it through the gates and secure those
laptops!
6:59am:
The gates open. This very well may be my last journal
entry.Tell my wife I love her and that I died serving
god and my country.
CHAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGE!
7:13am:
I'm still alive — but at what cost? We push
through the enemy's open gates. It is a complete disaster.
Soldiers don't maintain formation and trample over
each other, grasping at iBooks like rectangular bosoms.
The enemy doesn't help matters. One of them throws
a baby on the ground in order to secure more arm-room
for iBooks. I am unable to stop myself from stepping
on the baby. I'll have nightmares for the rest of
my life about the squishy sensation of baby beneath
my standard-issue military boots from the local surplus
shop. My troops are completely scattered. The ones
that are still with me have clearly lost any sense
of composure, let alone the will to continue fighting.
There are some tears. Lullabyes are whispered. We've
secured a new position inside the enemy base, directly
across from the bunker where the iBooks are being
guarded.
8:05am:
Son of a bitch! Those iBooks are dug in like an Alabama
tick!
8:48am:
I don't know how, but a soldier from another squad
just emerged from the bunker with an iBook. He made
a run for it, and was home free until he slipped on
that goddamn morning dew. Poor bastard landed face-first
on the baby, destroying both the iBook and his skull.
All that effort for nothing. It's moments like these
that can bring tears to the eyes of even the most
hardened soldiers of war. More lullabyes.
9:33am:
Medics arrive to treat the wounded. I see one treating
a wounded soldier who has an iBook clutched to himself.
The medic injects the soldier with some kind of sedative
and then runs off with his iBook. What is that soldier
going to tell his family back home when he returns
empty-handed? War makes you realize that humans are
animals. Hyenas waiting around for the lions to leave
the carcass so we can pick away at the leftover scraps.
10:02am:
The sun is now up and we're all exposed under the
blistering heat. Much to the dismay of my troops,
I stripped completely naked in an attempt to cool
off. I wish we could have fought this battle in a
nicer place, like near a beach. I swear I'm so hot
that I've thought about tearing my flesh off. I'm
still considering it.
10:57am:
We've made very little progress. I feel like we've
been stationed in the same spot forever. How are we
going to make our way into that bunker if we can't
even move a few inches forward!?
11:16am:
More of the troops snap — breaking formation,
mumbling to themselves and giving away our position.
We had to put down one of the soldiers because he
started eating himself. His corpse is cooking in the
sun now. It's smelling like sweet donuts to me.
11:20am:
I
taste a piece of him when the other soldiers aren't
looking. Just a little one, but a piece nonetheless.
I think I like it. Is that wrong? Probably not.
11:57am:
Out of sheer paranoia that my troops will notice someone's
been nibbling on the dead guy, I eat the rest of him.
If there's no evidence, nobody can point the finger
of blame. This is a good idea.
12:14pm:
IMPOSSIBLE! They're claiming that there are only but
a few iBooks left in the bunker now. Where the hell
did the rest of them go!? We were told there were
at least a thousand in there!! Everything
is falling apart!
12:41pm:
I'm almost in! There may only be a few iBooks left,
but I'm almost in! Just gotta hold out a little longer
and I might make it out of here in one piece WITH
an iBook! There may be hope after all!
12:47pm:
My lieutenant tries to take my position. I bleed him
out on the lawn. Donuts.
1:03pm:
EUREKA!
I MADE IT OUT WITH AN iBOOK! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! VICTORY
IS MINE!!!!
1:04pm:
WHAT THE FUCK!!@#@(#$* THIS PIECE OF SHIT IS BROKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR SERVING YOUR COUNTRY????
THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR BEING A GOOD HUSBAND AND
A GOOD FATHER???? THIS IS WHAT YOU GET!?!?!? THAT'S
IT! I'M GONNA END IT ALL RIGHT HERE AND TAKE EVERYBODY
DOWN WITH ME! DIEEEEEEE!!!!!
[Journal
ends]
|
RICHMOND,
Virginia A rush to purchase $50 used laptops
turned into a violent stampede Tuesday, with people
getting thrown to the pavement, beaten with a folding
chair and nearly driven over. One woman went so far
to wet herself rather than surrender her place in
line.