Help the Gullible to Buy a Little Fable~

The sun was high and bright as fuck today as it was yesterday and so it will be tomorrow. Of course the sun won’t be at its highest point all day everyday, but I’m just saying it’s currently at it’s peak, and that it has been at it’s peak yesterday and that it will be so for tomorrow... Ah, the heat is getting to me... again, eh.

And so the air is dry, arid, dusty and full of poo particles.

The air is so dry the people within these harsh, desolate lands usually pass out from all those nose bleeds the dry air due to the air drying out noses, and the membranes within our noses get crusty as fuck and irritate the shit out of the nasal membrane. And with us being dumb 'umies we sometimes pick our noses to get rid of the irritations, but doing that would cause the nose to bleed. Hell I’m currently bleeding out of my nose from the super dry air, but I got used to it and so would you after spending several weeks in this wasteland. I rather not lose any blood, but I don;t have anything on me to stop the blood so I just snort it and swallow.

I would make points on how arid and humid this place is, but my brain is too exhausted to attempt to do so… but it is very dusty here. Like, it’s sooooo dusty that your mouth, nose, ears and around the eyes there would be a thin layer of dust sitting about, and irritating the shit out of you. Any place where moisture would be and you'll most likely find dust all over it. The dust gets into everything, and I mean EVERYTHING! It’s a real pain in the ass to eat your food, or drink because there’s just gonna some amount of dust just floating about all over it. It's also super annoying when you have dust all over your underwear... uggh.

“Uggh, where did I put it, eh?!” I exclaimed in frustration as I search within my sandy, dusty and cold trench. What could've made me so god damn frustrated? Well, it would usually be the sun cooking me, but instead I lost something pretty important. What have I lost, eh? Well, it’s a little pin that does something to make the bolt for my rifle does its thing, and without it the weapon is practically useless, eh… So it's pretty fucking important, and I really need to find it before I officially lost it, eh. “It couldn't have been buried already, eh! I just took my eyes off of it for a few minutes, eh!” Ah, fuck you wind for splashing loose sand and possibly burying my lost pin!

I continued to search my cold, dry dusty trench for the next few minutes in panic and frustration. If I were to lose that pin then I would be in deep shit with my Officer… like, seriously, do you know what he would do to me when he finds out I lost something as integral and important as that firing pin or whatever they call it? I don’t know, but what I do know is that I need to find that pin right the fuck now!

It also doesn't hurt to say that if I officially lose something from my kit then my pay may be deducted to replace said lost kit, eh...

“I’m gonna be in so much trouble, eh!” I yell to myself as I turned over my sleeping rock, and was greatly saddened to discover that the pin was not under my sleeping rock.

“Hey Sars, what’s going on, eh?” I scream and jump a bit from surprised after hearing someone other than Old Ben the Talking Tree speak to me. After a few moments of waiting and failing to hear Old Ben the Talking Tree yell at me for not stripping for him I clumsily, and tiredly look over my shoulder to see my fireteam partner standing above me next to our trench. I cough into my glove hand to recompose myself, and to clear my parched throat.

“hehe, oh you know, stuff, eh.” After speaking I give him my best winning smile I can muster... and quickly glance over to Old Ben and back to my partner.

“You lose something again, eh?” My partner asks after a few moments as he too glances over to Old Ben...

Slumping against the dusty trench I mumble. “Yes…” I could feel the bastard’s eyebrow raising, but it was straightened out as I cough out the usual interjection stereo-typically associated with our countrymen. “eh.”

Sighing the man jumps into the trench right next to me, and causing a small dusty cloud to lift up all around us. I groan to myself as I do not want to see what the cloud is covering in dust. “Did you lose your firing pin, eh?” He asks as he waves away the dust from his face.

“Si mi amigo, eh.” I speak shittily in illegal.

“Huh, so I found this, eh.” I don’t know how he managed it, but I was very surprised he found the little fucker that I’ve been searching high and low for the past half an hour.

Snatching the pin from his hands I quickly reply. “Holy shit, you’re a life saver, eh!” I could practically feel a smile coming on judging from the pain from my dry, cracked lips.

“Ah, someone has to look after your sorry, but maravilloso culo, eh.” Smirking the man turns away from me to look over the desolate wasteland we’re supposed to be guarding alongside with our platoon, the Brits and ANA. Picking up his C7 Service Rifle he quickly scopes the land through his Optical Sight, and after a few moments to himself he tiredly places it back down once he spots nothing dangerous over yonder. “No telling what our Officer would do to you if he were to find out you officially lost something… again, eh.” How much did those firing pins cost anyways, eh?

After laughing in embarrassment I quickly change topic to avoid having to hear him once again go over the shit I fucked up, and how many times he had to cover my ass. “So Techy where’d you go, eh?”

Seemingly not noticing anything odd coming off of me the man answered the question. “Oh, just went on a delivery run on Wally’s truck with Sparkles, Happy, Porker and Doc, eh.” Ah, Wally you bastard… and it's nice to hear the others are up and able, and no longer sick from the floating poo particles again.

“You went without me, eh?!” I lightly smack the guy’s shoulder from irritation.

“Well, someone had to hold the fort while I was out, eh.” He reasons, but I wasn’t having any of it.

“But I was so maldito aburrido all day, eh!” Truly my day has been long, hard, hot and tiring along with it usually being boring as fuck. It’s like I’m being tortured, but that instead of being tortured by people I’m being messed around by my boredom! Sure the other usual schmuck such as actually doing some work around here is tiring and somewhat difficult most of the time, but at least I’m doing something.

It's not even past 1200 yet, eh...

With there being a sun beating down on you with it’s ferocity of light, heat and deadly radiation throughout the day you would be pretty miserable too, but it gets worse since the trench basically slow cooks you. It's even worse especially when you're wearing your usual army garb along with your tactical gear. That’s some real torture. The only thing that kept me alive out here is the cool dirt under my boots, and my half full canteen of water, but even then I think it would be easier just to off myself with my rifle.

Bah, I should probably stop being an asshat to him, eh...

“Su espanol es una mierda, eh.'.” My partner once again speaks in illegal, and is an asshat.

The dust cloud is settling...

“Yours is no better than mine you burro, eh.” I retort as I slowly, and painfully look over my now dusty rifle... I sigh deeply, and audibly from seeing how all of my work on cleaning my rifle is now gone, and it’s all thanks to Techy, but I’ll try not to be a bitch aboot it, eh. The sun is already killing us and we don’t need to turn on each other right now.  “So, what did you get from Wally this time, eh?”

Wally… You know that guy is such a fucking thieving, cheating, sneaky bastard. Now, Wally is a nice guy when it comes to simple chit chat, but when it comes to money that guy is such a fucking prick. Wally is the local merchant who supplies everyone anything they want for a price, and he sets his prices really high since he has the monopoly for being the only merchant crazy enough to be in an active battle zone. There were plenty of Afghans here, but he’s the only civie within miles and every other local is with the Afghanistan National Army. The ANA don’t really bother with Wally seeing how they magically get all sorts of bullshit without him, and seeing how they’re not keen in sharing anything with us we just have to settle with Wally, or the shitty acquisition service with the Americans.

No one really questions how Wally gets his merchandise, but we don't care. We could order ourselves a hooker along with some cocaine and he would find it. Porker once ordered himself a PS3 and a few games, and within a week Wally comes by and gives the bastard a brand new PS3 and games for a high price, but the fact Wally is able to get this kind of shit is a feat in itself seeing how we're in a very unstable country.

As I quickly and somewhat thoroughly clean my rifle my fireteam partner speaks once more. “I didn’t get anything this time, but I hear the Brit’s got themselves some washing machines today, and a mountain of beer, eh.”

I was finishing up putting back together a now clean bolt when I felt some frustration return to me after hearing what he had to say. “How come they get all the good shit while we scrape the bottom of the barrel, eh…” Seriously, I and many others within our platoon really wanted to get ourselves something to clean our uniforms. It’s been nearly a whole two weeks since we last cleaned our clothes, and since then the stink has built up to the point where bugs no longer wish to be around us. I kinda miss those flies I semi-domesticated... “Infieno even those Yankees get better shit than us and no one likes them, eh!”

“You mean those PMC’s and not the US Troops right, eh?” As always my partner is quick to ask questions to clarify shit, but he should understand what I’m saying by now. We’ve been working together for three and half years now! How does anyone not understand what I’m talking aboot, eh? Hell, Happy knows what I mean and English is not his first language!

“Yeah, those PMC burros, eh!” Ah, those PMC bastards… you know they were cool with me until they started shooting at us… They said it was an accident, and thought we were Insurgents wearing stolen Canadian Uniforms, but they’ve been told multiple times and given maps on where we were, but they somehow forgot all about that and shot at us. I almost got my face blown off, but luckily I was smart enough to duck when the lead starts flying especially when I’m half naked. It’s not the first time either that those guys fired upon fellow Canadian soldiers and out British pals. No idea if they shot at any other personnel from other militaries, but if I were to guess I probably would think they have done so before.

“It’s because they pay bigger bucks than we do, eh.” Ah, the man speaks the truth. Those guys make a lot of money. It really reminds me of that one quote I seen on the YouTube comments section a long time ago, and I think it goes along the length of ‘You don’t find good soldiers paid well in the army’ or something close to that. Whatever, I don’t care. I’m tired, hot, hungry, thirsty and is now busy cleaning my rifle and putting it back together which means I’m no longer bored and that is a good thing. My mood is improving.

“I’m super disappointed today, eh…” I say after a long period of silence.

“Me too Sars, me too, eh…” Within the next few minutes I manage to clean and put together my rifle, and I swore an oath that day to never take advice from Smiles. Bastard said that soldiers could use the butt of their rifles as makeshift shovels, and yeah that would be true if it were World War One right now.

I wonder if I can get us a washing machine next time Wally comes around, eh?