Spicy Guacamole posted:

how do i address stuff to a mud hut

http://shipyourenemiesglitter.com/

Spicy Guacamole posted:

how do i address stuff to a mud hut

http://shipyourenemiesglitter.com/

50 Foot Ant posted:

Trying to decide if I should try this new strain a friend gave me, or stick with the brushweed stuff I've got. The brushweed poo poo is good, but it makes me too talkative.

Unknown strain, or not shutting the gently caress up?

Tough choice.

ElMaligno posted:

Spicy Guacamole posted:

how do i address stuff to a mud hut

http://shipyourenemiesglitter.com/

Tearsaslube posted:

Can someone link me tits?

Rough Lobster posted:

I just got a puppy and I'd lay waste to anyone who harmed a hair on her fuzzy little head. I'll have to check out John Wick.

justice4trayvawn posted:

If someone had told me I'd find the following movie enjoyable I would've laughed pretty hard:

-keaneau reeves plays a badass assassin
-tons of muscle cars
-worst Russian accents ever
-dead puppy
-Assassin only hotel in NYC complete with its own rules
-assassin gold coin currency just for fellow people in the industry

But somehow john wick was entertaining 7/10

Ogrel72 posted:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00S7DONO6

Nostalgia4Ass posted:

For a moment I actually considered spending the 99 cents on this.

Ogrel72 posted:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00S7DONO6

Dingleberry posted:

Chapter One
It was a dark and stormy night at Fort Butler. Thunder rolled off the Georgia hills, a flash followed by a deep BOOM! A young woman, or more like a woman trying to look young, slowly pushed her shopping cart through the PX aisles. She passed one soldier who had hit the floor at the sound.
“Git up you moron, it’s just thunder” she said as she passed him. “Frigging PTSD. Ah swears.”
She maneuvered the cart around to the cigarette section, loading up on smokes. “Here, hold this, Robert E.” she said, handing her oldest son a box of cigars.
“Ma, you know I ain’t old enough to smoke. Plus they broke mah habit n Juvie.”
“They ain’t for you, they’re for yer daddy. When he comes home.”
Robert E. screwed his ten year old face up into a scowl and threw the cigars down on the floor. “He AIN’T my daddy!”
His mother swatted him on the butt, hard. “Don’t you sass me, boy! We is married, an that makes him your daddy!”
“That’s what you said about the last one!” he shot back. He turned and ran out the front doors, giving her the finger as he went. She sighed out loud, a long drawn out exhalation.
“Robert E done runned off again!” said Britaney from her seat in the shopping cart.
“Yep, an maybe ifn he don’t come back or winds up in juvie again, you can have his bed an stop sharing with yer sister. Ah gots to git us a bigger trailer. “
People were pointedly not looking in their direction. One soldier on the closest checkout line glanced at her, but turned away when she glared at him. That was that slacker, Sergeant Jenkins, from her husbands’ Rear Detachment. Let him look; she knew he was a dirtbag. She also knew that he was screwing around on his wife, with that waitress at the Short Skirt Bar & Grill outside the base. He couldn’t say poo poo to her.
Tiffany finished stocking the cart, putting items in preparation for Jed’s coming home party. That and another package of diapers, and more cigarettes. Booze would have to wait for the Class Six liquor store outside.
Her cell phone rang. “poo poo, drat electric company agin.” She slid the screen over to DECLINE, ignoring the call.
Britaney whispered “Momma said a bad word.”
“You shut it, or am a gonna let Social Services take you, instead of fightin so hard to keep you in the family.” The little girl when wide eyed and fell silent.
They got in line in the express aisle, ignoring the 15 ITEMS sign. Ahead of her was a soldier buying some basic things like toothpaste and razors. Definitely someone here on Temporary Duty. She quickly slipped her wedding ring into her pocket, chewed on her lower lip to make it puffy, and purposely rammed the young officer in the back with her cart. He turned with a scowl, then glanced downward to look at her cleavage. She had discretely pushed her breasts together with her arms while leaning on the cart, and the white wife beater t-shirt she wore in the Georgia heat left little to imagination.
“Oh, ah am sooo sorry!” she said, opening her eyes wide.
He smiled and said, “No problem, miss. Is your daughter OK?”
She laughed and said “This aint mah daughter. I’m just watching her for a friend of mine.” She stole a quick glance at Britaney, giving her a shut the hell up look.
“Oh really?” he said “that’s mighty nice of you to do. I assume you work here on base?”
“You can say that, Colonel.” He wasn’t tall, like she usually liked them, but he had brown hair cut a little longer than usual for a military guy, and his shoulders, under the baggy uniform, were wide. She started day dreaming about running her fingers through that hair.
He laughed. “OH, I’m no Colonel. Just a Captain. I’m here TDY for a week” He glanced at the groceries and supplies in the cart. “Shopping for your friend, I assume?”
“Yep. I’m going to drop this here kid off and them groceries. I’m assumin that you might need someone to show you round town, only bein here a while?”
His face lit up, and his eyes roved up and down her body again. She sucked in her gut to try and hide the slight muffin top that spilled over the waistband of her jeans, and leaned forward to draw his attention to her breasts again. Looking back up, he said “That would be mighty helpful. I’ve heard about Southern Hospitality. Do you know where the Bachelors Officers quarters are?”
You bet your rear end I do, she thought, but said out loud “If’n you give me directions, maybe I kin pick you up an we can go to the Ponderosa for supper.”
“It’s a date!” he said, and held out his hand. She took it in hers, and she could feel the strength in him, feel the rough callouses in his grip. She held it for a second too long.
“So, mystery southern woman, what’s your name?
“Tiffany Amber Smith” she answered, trying to make it come out deep and husky like Demi Moore.
 
Chapter 2
Sergeant Richie Jenkins looked away from that bitchy Dependapotomous Tiffany Amber Smith and wished for the hundredth time that he could have her himself. He’d show her a thing or two. In fact, he knew just how to do it, too. It wasn’t his fault that he had to stay behind while the rest of the company deployed to Durkistan, and he resented the fact that Smith and the rest of the wives watched him like a hawk, making it hard for him to meet with Cindy down at the Short Skirt. He was terrified that his wife would find out.
Hanging out in the little area outside the entrance to the PX, an open plaza that led to the food court, Jenkins watched as Smith crashed her shopping cart into the back of the Captains’ legs. He took out his cell phone and discretely started videotaping her entire conversation with him, capturing her full on as she leaned forward to highlight her chest. Too bad he couldn’t get the sound from this far away. Jenkins pocketed the phone as she came out of the PX and turned away, a smile on his face.
Outside, he sat in his 2015 Mustang, the one his wife kept bitching about. When he had injured his leg during training, causing him to get let off the deployment, the tax free money and hazard pay he had counted on for making his payments had evaporated. Now he had missed one payment and the credit company had jacked the rate up to 29%, sending the monthly bill through the roof. “loving greedy assholes” he muttered to himself, and opened up his phone.
First he logged into Gmail, creating a new, anonymous email address. Then he used that to make a new Youtube account. Next, he uploaded the video of Mrs. Pvt. Smith flirting with the Captain, and emailed a link it to Private Jeb Smith, half a world away, using Smith’s military email address. He closed the browser with a grin, and then headed for the main gate. He had almost an hour of the usual ninety minute Army lunch left, and he was going to see if he could get some quick action from Cindy. It was her day off, and if he hustled, he could make it to her apartment and back with time to spare.
He got to downtown Spartaville and turned down the street that led to Cindy’s apartment complex. It was in a sort of run-down section of town, the part that catered to single people and young military families. Not the worst place, and not the best. Sandwiched between the apartment complexes were the type of businesses that catered to soldiers. Tattoo shops, used car lots, fast food joints, and strip clubs repeated themselves endlessly into the distance.
Pulling into the complex, he hit the brakes, hard. Parked in the spot he usually pulled into was a blue minivan. He looked at the Texas plates, and saw the “PROUD ARMY WIFE” sticker on the back windshield, and his heart sank. Jenkins leaned forward, looking up to the exterior entrance to Cindy’s apartment was, and saw his wife coming down the stairs, furious and carrying their one year old daughter in her arms. He could see Cindy’s pretty face looking out from the doorway, chain still in place but open enough for her to have been capable of conversing with his wife.
“Oh poo poo” he muttered, and threw the Mustang into reverse, tires smoking as he flew backwards out of the parking lot.
“COME BACK HERE YOU SONOFABITCH! YOU loving COWARD I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” He heard her screaming at him all the way across the parking lot. He shifted into drive and banged over the dividing curb that separated the parking lot from the street, and his back window shattered she threw a tire iron at the car.
Jenkins slammed on the brakes and got out of the Mustang. “MY loving CAR! What are you, crazy?” he yelled at her, and then started running his hand over the paint on the trunk, looking for scratches.
“gently caress YOUR CAR, AND YOUR LITTLE WORE BITCH TOO!” she screamed at him. She was only nineteen herself, and the angrier she got, the younger she looked. She took their little girl and jumped into the minivan, then tore out of the parking lot herself, almost hitting him.
The twenty year old Sergeant ran his hand along the huge scratch on the trunk, and looked at the shattered window. “I can’t believe she did this. HEY, CINDY!” he yelled, thinking that he still had time to get laid before he had to be back on base, but her door slammed shut.
“loving women. All goddamned crazy. Man’s got needs, is all” he muttered to himself, and drove off down Butler Boulevard, heading back to the East gate of Fort Butler.
 
Chapter 3
“JENKINS! Get your rear end in here!”
“Moving, First Sergeant!”
Master Sergeant Nick Agostine, acting First Sergeant for Read Detachment, 3rd Battalion, 47th Infantry Regiment, the “Honey Badgers”, had just hung up the phone that sat on his desk. Not really hung up; more like slammed it down. Jenkins heard it as he came in the door, ten minutes before 13:00 formation. He hurried into the First Sergeant’s office and assumed a positon of Parade Rest, arms locked behind his back, head and eyes facing forward.
“Do you know who that was on the phone? Don’t answer me, I’ll tell you. The GODDAMNED COLONELS WIFE! Yelling at ME! Because YOU cannot keep your DICK in your PANTS. Apparently your wife had a talk with your girlfriend this morning. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Jenkins thought hard. If he fessed up, it could be bad. Agostine was a one legged rear end in a top hat, always getting on him about his performance as a soldier, trying to get him to max his PT test, study for the Staff Sergeant Board. Stupid frigging lifer asswipe.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, First Sergeant!”
A look of disgust passed over the older man’s face. “So, did you or did you not have an altercation a little while ago at the Cedarwoods Apartments? With your wife?”
“Ah, um, well, she’s been really stressed out with the baby and being six month pregnant. You know how women get, Top.”
Agostine ground his teeth in frustration. “You’re moving into the barracks. Until you straighten your poo poo out with your wife, AND you have CQ tomorrow. That ought to give you some time to calm down.”
Jenkins started to object, but before the words got out, the Master Sergeant held up his hand. “I advise you, Jenkins, before any more bullshit flows out of your mouth, that you shut the hell up and get out to formation before I put my size twelve boot up your rear end so hard your little girlfriend at the Short Skirt will find it still there next time you drop your pants for her. NOW GET OUT OF MY FACE! And close the door after you!”
When the door had swung shut, Houston reached into the drawer of his desk for a bottle of motrin. The stump of his leg was rubbing the prothetic again. ‘Thirty Eight years old and I’m going to have a freaking heart attack from stress’ he thought to himself. ‘Stupid army promoting CHILDREN to NCO ranks. Two years in service and that dipshit is a sergeant.’ Just as he closed the desk drawer, the phone rang again.
“First Sergeant Agostine, this line is unsecured, how may I help you Sir / Ma’am?” He tried to keep the stress out of his voice.
“No Ma’am.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“I know who your husband is, Ma’am.”
“Yes, Ma’am, I know, you’re the FRG leader.”
“No, Ma’am, I can’t arrest him for adultery.”
“Yes, Ma’am, I’ll see that he keeps away from her.”
“No, Ma’am, I have not seen Private Smith’s wife. It wasn’t my turn to watch her.”
“No Ma’am, I wasn’t being sarcastic.”
“Yes, Ma’am, I’ll remember who your husband is and render you the according respect.”
“No, ma’am that wasn’t sarcasm either.”
The phone died with a *click* as she hung up on him. He slammed the phone back down and walked out of the office to where the Detachment was falling into formation. He paced back and forth as Sergeant First Class Oran took roll call and handed out the afternoon work assignments. Oran turned to him with a questioning look, and Agostine walked up and took over the formation.
“Listen up. If one more of you does something stupid, I am going to take my leg off and beat the ever loving poo poo out of you with it. I am tired of the bullshit that has been going on here. The Battalion is coming home in eight days and I want to make it through the next week without killing one of you and ruining what has been, up to now, a pretty drat good army career!”
A snicker sounded from the back row. He leaned to his right to see into the back, but couldn’t identify who made the sound. Probably that fatboy, Sergeant Bognaski. Screw it, twenty four more hours to go.
“Laugh all you want, but if we have one. more. incident. I am going to confine you all to the barracks.” He ignored the groans and called them to attention, then dismissed them, then walked back into his office.
His phone was ringing again.
 
Chapter 4
Half a world away, Private Jeb Smith sat in the Morale, Welfare and Recreation trailer. Rows of computers were lined up, and soldiers were skyping with their families back home or checking e-mail. Aoround him were conversations in English and Spanish, ranging from arguemnts to hone sex with accompyaning video. For the hundredth time he wished he could afford a laptop so that he could surf the web back in his CHU Every time he went to spend the money, though, his bank account was empty. He knew how hard it was for his wife to provide for their four kids while he was away, but Jeb had been begging Tiffany Amber to put a little aside. With the Brigade set to redeploy in little more than week, though, he guessed he could just suck it up.
Smith heard a sound coming from around the side of the plywood dividing his portion of the table from the guy next to him, and leaned back his chair a little so that he could see the other guy’s screen. Specialist Jones from his squad, the black Jones, was rubbing himself while his wife shook her rear end into the camera. Smith shook his head and went back to his own e-mail. He logged into AKO and opened up one he didn’t recognize, from a gmail account. Inside was a link to a youtube video. He clicked on the link and watched as his wife, Tiffany Amber, talked to a soldier at the PX.
Smith chuckled to himself. That wife of his, always so drat friendly, she had a heart of gold. That was why he had married her so quickly. Well, that and she could suck a golf ball through a garden hose. He blushed thinking about it, and immediately thought of the preacher back on Boonseville who had told him that deviant sex acts were going to send him straight to hell. His erection vanished.
“Hey, is that your wife?”
Smith turned to Specialist Roy from his fire team watching the video over his shoulder. “Yep, sure is. Someone sent me a video of her. Ain’t she great?”
Roy watched as Tiffany Amber leaned forward to show her cleavage.
“Uh, yeah. What’s she doing?”
“Oh, you know her. Being friendly to guys at the PX. It’s how she passes her time while were’ deployed, helping soldiers out.”
Roy looked at the young private and asked “Jeb, you’re what, eighteen years old?”
“Nope, just turned nineteen. Why?”
“How long have you been married?”
Smith counted on his fingers. “Well, we’ve been deployed for almost twelve months. So that makes thirteen months. Tiffany had our baby six months ago.”
Roy smiled at the young private. “Yeah, I saw the pics. Looks just like her momma.” You poor bastard, he thought to himself.
Just then a huge guffaw sounded behind Roy. Their fire team leader had come in while they were talking, and was now watching the video, which Smith had looped to watch over and over.
A deep booming voice said “Looks like Tiffany is playing crash cart trick! Thog not fall for that one again1”
Smith turned to face him and said “What do you mean, crash cart trick?” Behind him, Roy was making frantic gestures to get Corporal Thog to stop.
Thog looked right at him, seemed to think for a moment, and said “Thog not know what you’re talking about. I was talking to Thog.”
Smith turned to face Roy again. “Specialist Roy ,what did he mean, cart crash trick?”
“It’s something moms do while they’re shopping to keep their kids entertained. Bang into things.”
“NO IT’S NOT. IT HOW THOG MET TIFFANY AMBER!”
Smith stood up from the computer with a big grin on his face and looked up at the almost seven foot tall giant. “You never said you knew my wife! How about that, small world, huh Corporal? Me on your fire team and all that!”
A loudspeaker boomed out “INCOMING, TAKE COVER, INCOMING, TAKE COVER” and the harsh buzz of the C-RAM spitting out rounds to intercept an incoming rocket or mortar. Soldiers spilled outside, running for concrete bunkers. Pvt Smith, Cpl Thog and Spc Roy sat in the MWR trailer, not moving towards the bunkers. Thog reached over and drained a cup of Green Beans coffee that someone had left in front of their computer. He let out large belch that almost sounded as loud as the C-RAM.
Roy leaned over and whispered in Thog’s ear. “He doesn’t know. Shhh!” In front of them, Smith had sat back down at the computer and was watching his wife over and over a silly grin on his face.
“Thog understand.”
Roy nodded, then said “When I find out who sent him that link, Thog can smash.” At that. The big infantry man started cracking his knuckles, and a gap toothed grin appeared on his face.
 
Chapter 5
“Guardian Two -Three, we have an assault in progress, 134 Milton Street, Junior Enlisted Married Quarters, please respond, over.”
Specialist Jean Tackmire looked at the sinlge car in front of her at the on-post Burger King drive through. She had been sitting in line for almost fifteen minutes, and had finally gotten to place her order. She was starving, and this frigging close to picking up her food.
“This is Guardian Two – Three. Assault in Progress, 134 Milton. On my way, over.” She reached down and flicked on the lights and siren. In front of her, the guy who had just been handed his meal jumped and spilled a giant coke all over his uniform. Sorry, dude, she thought.
“Two Two, be advised. Code Trailer Smith, over.”
She muttered “poo poo” under her breath, “goddamned that woman.” A Code “Trailer” referred to one of the spouses that lived in the Windy Pines Mobile Home park outside the South Gate. Smith was that redneck woman whose kids were always causing trouble. Tackmire arrived at the address in two minutes, cut the lights and siren, and got out and surveyed the scene.
In front of her, government issued sedan was still idling at the curb. Next to it sat a man in dress uniform, holding a handkerchief to his nose, trying to stop blood from pouring out. It had spattered across his Blues, but she could make out the small symbols of a Chaplain.
On the lawn in front of the house, another man stood, this one an Enlisted soldier, also in Dress Blues. He had Specialist rank on his sleeve, and his uniform was torn and dirty. His face was red and he was breathing hard, and he had a cut lip.
Five feet from him, an extremely large woman clad only in a pink bathrobe and fuzzy bunny slippers lay sprawled atop another struggling figure, pinning her to the ground. Behind them in the doorway lay a third woman, who was just starting to sit up, a dazed look on her face.
“OK, I don’t know what the hell is going on here” she yelled, drawing her Taser from her left side ”but you need to get off that woman, right now!”
The fat woman rolled off the younger, smaller woman ,showing a giant expanse of white flesh. “It’s OK, Officer, I was just breaking up the fight until you could get here.” Tackmire recognized the woman who had been underneath her as Ms. Smith. Tiffany Amber lay quietly, trying to catch her breath.
“Gawd drat, Betsy, you need to lose some freakin weight. Ah caint beath no more, I think you done busted mah ribs” she wheezed.
“I was just trying to help, Tiff. No need to get personal” said the fat woman.
“You just stay right there on the ground” said Tackmire, motioning with the Taser. “You, Specialist, I assume you’re the Chaplains’ Assistant?” He nodded, trying to straighten up his uniform, glaring at Tiffany Amber. “Why don’t you go see how the Chaplain s doing while I talk to Ms. Smith here.” He moved off to the curb where the Padre was still trying to stop the blood coming from his nose.
“You, what’s your name?”
The fat lady made a “who me” gesture, and started to walk away from the scene. “Hey, come back here, I need to talk to you!” yelled Tackmire.
“I haven’t done anything, officer, I was just trying to keep people from getting hurt, is all!”
“Well, you’re a witness, so you’re not going anywhere.” Tackmire keyed the mike on her radio and called in to the station for another car. Before she even got an acknowledgement, another car rolled up to the curb, and a big, beefy Specialist stepped out and walked over.
“Well, hi, TA! What are you doing on the ground?” he said.
“Suck it, Budros. You an this other po –po can piss off.” She started to try to stand up, and Tackmore said “uh uh, you just stay down there til we figure this all out.”
Specialist Budros leaned in to whisper in Tackmires’ ear. “Think you can handle this, sweet cheeks?”
“Piss off, Budros, I got this. Go check out the lady in the doorway” she shot back. “Ma’am, you can stand up and tell me your side of whatever your side of the story is.”
Smith got up of the ground, trying to pull down her t-shirt over he r expose love handles, and hitching up her low-rider jeans. Her dyed reddish blonde hair was all over the place, and she spit on her hand and started trying to straighten it.
“Well, I was visitin my friend Shanice there” and she motioned back to the woman in the doorway, who Budros was helping to her feet. “And this government car comes up to the driveway, and that bozo gets out and walks up and rings her doorbell. So Shanice, she opens the door and sees who it is, and her eyes done rolled up in her head and she faints, BOOM, right there in the doorway. So I comes to the door an this here Chaplain says, no, there’s been a mistake, I’m just looking for directions, and so I let him have it , straight in the nose.”
The Chaplain and his assistant had come back over to stand next to her, and the Chaplain tried to speak, but his nose started bleeding again. He motioned for his assistant to talk instead.
“It was an honest mistake. We’re here for a conference, and we got lost. So we stopped to ask for directions! And this WOMAN” he gestured to Tiffany Amber “attacked the Chaplain! So I defended him, like it’s my job to do!”
“Well, you dumbasses outta know better then to come drivin around this here development, walkin up driveways when our mens is deployed!”
Tackmire stepped in between them, keeping her Taser pointed at the ground. “I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding, but I’m going to have to take you all back to the station with me.”
“Oh hell no! I got to pick up my kids at daycare in two hours! I ain’t going nowhere!”
Tiffany Ambers face was getting red again, and Tackmire was sure she could smell beer on her breath. She sighed and said “I’m sure someone can arrange to get your kids for you. It’s not like you haven’t done this before. Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”
“What about that fat jerk!” she said, point at the Chaplains Assistant. “He done swung at me first, and he hits like a girl!”
“Why, you little skank” yelled the Specialist, and he reached for her. In a second, the two were rolling on the ground again, kicking and clawing. The fat lady saw her opportunity and took off waddling for her house next door, and Bodrus ran after her and tackled her. The two rolled across the lawn, alternating flashes of pink bathrobe, pale white flesh, and Army camouflage.
“STOP, RIGHT NOW!” yelled Tackmire, and she raised the Taser. The Chaplain ran in a circle around them, imploring them to stop and forgive each other. Tiffany Amber and the Chaplains Assistant continued to fight on the ground, until suddenly Tiffany sat up, pinning his knees to the ground, and started punching him as hard as she could..
“THIS IS HOW A SOUTHERN GIRL FIGHTS!” she shouted, just before fifty thousand volts shot through her body and she fell over twitching.
 
Chapter 6
They sat in the booth furthest away from the door at the Wafflehouse in downtown Spartaville. Tiffany Amber leaned over a cup of coffee, inhaling the fumes. Outside, the sun had gone down, and parking lot lights cast a harsh glare, making the people inside look even more sickly.
“So they hauls me in to the police station, an the Chaplain gets all Jesus up in him, and says he doesn’t want to press no charges. Git this, he actually prays for me! Says I’m a Godless woman.”
Shanice leaned back and put her hand to her chest. “You, a Godless woman? Didn’t you tell him you’ve been saved?”
TA nodded and said “Yep, and then I asked him if HE had a personal relationship with our Lord and Savior Jesus. He said he was a Catholic, and I said that I would prays for him, cause HE was goin to hell unless he accepted Jesus as his savior!”
“No, you didn’t!”
“Oh yes I did! He was a godamned Yankee anyways. That there gay Chaplains Assistant looked like he done wanted to take another swing at me.”
Shanice shook her head. “The nerve, hitting a woman. So what else happened?”
Tiffany Amber scratched under her bra. Georgia nights were so drat humid, and she hadn’t cleaned up from the earlier fracas. “I got a warning from that stuck up bitchy cop that tazed me. She said one more incident an I caint come back on post.”
Her friend tsked her and said “Maybe you should slow down, TA. You aren’t twenty anymore, you know.” The look she got in return made her shrink into her seat and concentrate on her ham and eggs. “I’m just saying” she said meekly.
“I’ll slow down when I’m dead, and I ain’t dead yet!” she said while stuffing waffles in her mouth. She chewed quickly and said “I gotta go, I have to go to the stupid FRG meeting. They made it mandatory ifn I wanted to leave the police station.”
She left her car parked outside the unit headquarters and walked inside. When she came in, a hush feel on the room and she heard several whispers from the other women. Tiffany Amber walked up to the front row, directly in front of Lieutenant Colonel Wellington’s wife, the head of the Battalion Family Readiness Group.
“This meeting of the Third Battalion, Forty Seventy Infantry Regiment Family Readiness Group will now be called to order!” The FRG leader was middle aged, with some silver showing in her hair, dressed in an orange pantsuit. She had rung a small bell, which she set back down on the table in the Battalion classroom. In front of her on folding chairs sat a crowd of women, with two men standing in the back of the room. One, dressed in an expensive suit, looked like he would rather be anywhere else. The other wore sweatpants and a shirt stained with baby food. He rocked a car carrier gently with his foot, and a haggard look of exhaustion was on his face.
“Now, as you all know, as the head of the FRG, and the wife of the Battalion Commander, I am charged with making sure things go smoothly on the home front.” She paused, giving a hard stare at two young women who were chatting in the second row. The quickly quieted, and she continued.
“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I am responsible for making things go smoothly. It has come to my attention today that one of our fellow spouses was involved in an incident today with the Military Police.” Again she paused, letting it sink in.
“Praise be to Jesus, the Chaplain, a man of God, forgave her and refused to press charges. I think you all know who I’m talking about when I say that behavior like that will NOT be tolerated.”
From the front row came a snort of laughter. The Lieutenant Colonels’ wife glared at Tiffany Amber. “I’m glad you find this so funny, Mrs. Smith. You are setting a very poor example for the younger wives here.”
“At least I ain’t trying to be on a power trip, over compensatin for the fact that your husband aint touched you in twenty years an would rather be in Durkistan than around your dried up pu” She was interrupted by the FRG leader ringing her bell furiously as the room broke up in laughter.
“You are disregarding my authority, Mrs. Smith, and I will not have it!” She was turning red with fury, and her pants suit seemed about to burst.
Tiffany Amber stood up and confronted her. “You ain’t got no authority. You done married a rank, but it ain’t yours, it’s yer husbands. You squat to pee just like I do!”
Mrs. Lieutenant Colonel Wellington’s mouth moved, opening and closing, but nothing came out. Tiffany Amber walked over, rang the bell, and walked out of the room. On the way out, the guy dressed in the sweats gave her a high five.
Furiously ringing the bell, Mrs. Wellington called the meeting back to order after several minutes. “Thank Jesus we are rid of that godless whore” she muttered under her breath.
“Next, we are having a bake sale for the family of Sergeant Elias Johnson, who, if you remember, was tragically killed earlier in the deployment. There is a sign up sheet at the back of the room, please be sure to put your name next to something. Can someone contact Mrs. Sergeant Johnson and ask her how we can get the money to her?”
From the second row, a woman raised her hand. “Hello, I’m here already! It’s me, Mrs. Johnson.”
“Does anybody have her phone number? Such a tragedy.”
“I’M RIGHT OVER HERE!”
“Well, if anyone knows how to get in touch with her, please do so. She is greatly missed by the Battalion Family.”
Mrs. Johnson stood up in frustration. “I. AM. RIGHT. HERE.” she yelled.
“Moving on, I have made changes to the alert roster…”

 

beanieson posted:

tldr

Dingleberry posted:

Here is a time-waster...
http://shesahomewrecker.com/vanessa-oehling-also-vanessa-wollschlager-montana/#more-14817

Spicy Guacamole posted:

Still would.

Dingleberry posted:

It sounds like you could for the cost of a plane ticket and a hotel room...

Nostalgia4Dicks posted: