![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
written on Saturday, 14.6.08
Exploding Cows
4:30 AM.
We've just finished sending off the last infantry team on a routine mission.
Finally, some rest.
I roll up the maps we used to sketch up our plans and drop them off at my office.
4:30 on a weekend, and I'm tired. The last mission has been sent out, and I can go to sleep.
I grab my toothbrush and head out to the field showers.
Brushing my teeth. Molars, incisors, lower….ffffBOOM. ffffBOOM. ffffBOOM.
fffffffffffBOOM. Shit.
That doesn't sound too good. I spit out my toothpaste, gurgle, spit, take a last look at the mirror, clean a speck with my tongue and run like hell to the nearest watchpost.
I am greeted upon arrival by another fffBOOM. It sounds like a MAG shooting single bullets, but just as I climb up to the watchpost I see a dying light.
Explosion.
I grab the heavy duty binoculars from the watchman and swivel them around to the area the explosion came from.
Cows.
Cows, grazing.
Focus, swivel swivel, focus…
Ah! One cow, sans leg, bleeding. Grazing.
My outpost is surrounded by an anti personnel minefield.
Every once in a while, a herd of cows roams towards the outpost, looking for fresher grazing areas.
It is during these times that I've learnt just how apathetic these animals can be.
"Mmmm…what's this? Oh. My leg blew off. oh. OH! GRASS! Nomnomnomnom."
During my time serving in this outpost, I've developed an immensely strong urge to go cowtipping in Syria.
What fun.
The Thing that Should Not Be
A fellow officer, the one I share a room with, had his girlfriend fly off to the states for a few months.
Before she left, she bought him a "Magic Bean". It's a bean with the words "I Love You" scratched on its surface.
It is supposed, he explained to me, to grow out more beans with the same writing etched on them as well.
Naturally, I made fun of him. Made sure he knew exactly what I thought of his girlfriend's cognitive abilities.
Imagine my terror when, while he was on leave for the weekend, a "Little Shop of Horrors"-like plant reared an ugly head from the flower pot with the words (now a cruel mockery of my sanity) "I Love You" tattooed across its surface.
It is truly frightening, sleeping in the same room as that abomination. I would say it grows a little bit each day, but that's simply not true. It grows a LOT each day.
My roommate says it's reaching out for sunlight, but I know better. It's reaching out for blood. At least I'll have something interesting written on my gravestone.
Exploding Cows
4:30 AM.
We've just finished sending off the last infantry team on a routine mission.
Finally, some rest.
I roll up the maps we used to sketch up our plans and drop them off at my office.
4:30 on a weekend, and I'm tired. The last mission has been sent out, and I can go to sleep.
I grab my toothbrush and head out to the field showers.
Brushing my teeth. Molars, incisors, lower….ffffBOOM. ffffBOOM. ffffBOOM.
fffffffffffBOOM. Shit.
That doesn't sound too good. I spit out my toothpaste, gurgle, spit, take a last look at the mirror, clean a speck with my tongue and run like hell to the nearest watchpost.
I am greeted upon arrival by another fffBOOM. It sounds like a MAG shooting single bullets, but just as I climb up to the watchpost I see a dying light.
Explosion.
I grab the heavy duty binoculars from the watchman and swivel them around to the area the explosion came from.
Cows.
Cows, grazing.
Focus, swivel swivel, focus…
Ah! One cow, sans leg, bleeding. Grazing.
My outpost is surrounded by an anti personnel minefield.
Every once in a while, a herd of cows roams towards the outpost, looking for fresher grazing areas.
It is during these times that I've learnt just how apathetic these animals can be.
"Mmmm…what's this? Oh. My leg blew off. oh. OH! GRASS! Nomnomnomnom."
During my time serving in this outpost, I've developed an immensely strong urge to go cowtipping in Syria.
What fun.
The Thing that Should Not Be
A fellow officer, the one I share a room with, had his girlfriend fly off to the states for a few months.
Before she left, she bought him a "Magic Bean". It's a bean with the words "I Love You" scratched on its surface.
It is supposed, he explained to me, to grow out more beans with the same writing etched on them as well.
Naturally, I made fun of him. Made sure he knew exactly what I thought of his girlfriend's cognitive abilities.
Imagine my terror when, while he was on leave for the weekend, a "Little Shop of Horrors"-like plant reared an ugly head from the flower pot with the words (now a cruel mockery of my sanity) "I Love You" tattooed across its surface.
It is truly frightening, sleeping in the same room as that abomination. I would say it grows a little bit each day, but that's simply not true. It grows a LOT each day.
My roommate says it's reaching out for sunlight, but I know better. It's reaching out for blood. At least I'll have something interesting written on my gravestone.
