Dear Mom, Dad, Shrub, Peach, and the Future President:
I was walking along a trail and turned to my left to tell one of my men to get his tocus up to the head of the column when I heard a loud noise below me and felt like some one had kicked me right in the butt. So the mighty oak fell to the ground, [after] having urged his men on to greater heights of glory with the resounding battle cry of "Oh, shit!" I thought I had been hit by a booby trap, and it wasn't until three to five seconds had passed that I realized that people were shooting at us in general and me in particular since I was still lying on the road. This also occurred to my unalert band of cutthroats, and one of them dragged me off the road and down an embankment, which felt oh, so good.
By the time I regained my form and was screaming at my men to return fire and charge the ambush--which they did to no avail--while my corpsman was explaining to me that they had never taught him how to bandage up a wounded butt. I explained to him in graphic detail what the consequences to his personage would be if he didn't think up a way, and quickly. He invented a way, using my penis as an anchor or something--anyway, as an integral part of the mummifying act. The helicopter came, and I was thrown aboard and taken to the hospital in Chu Lai...
So, I am lying in bed here, and it comes time for that most thrilling event: "When the General Gives Out the Purple Hearts." The general in this case is a two-star general, a big, gruff, hearty type whose first words to me were, "Aren't you the one who wrote on that form that supplies weren't getting to the troops? Can you give specific examples?"
So, what the hell, I gave him a few, and he, predictably enough, cut me off, explaining how the folks back home were having to be forced to make utilities. And in a very small voice I pointed out that a great deal of the problem was right here in River City. He ignored that and never stopped smiling, although it got a little forced after a while and his entourage stood around with little grins etched into their empty faces, which occasionally laughed heartily whenever the general made a funny, which was signaled by his own chuckling. All in all, it was a dreadful performance by everyone but, in a way, a classic of stereotype, one of a large number of stereotype characters and situations I have watched acted out, much to my growing concern. They finally left me sicker than I was before and with a medal I never wanted anyway...
Love, Sandy
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