Sunday December 7, 2008

Book 10: The Longshoreman of the Apocalypse
Part IV: Fuller's Soap


Narrator:Aboard troop transport Onesy, departing Southport for the greater Credomaran interior. . .
Legs:Sarge, this beacon is squawking at me.
Schlock:If it's bothering you just paint it and pop it.
Elf:Belay that, Corporal.
Elf:The station interior is one big no-fly zone. Beacons are going to squawk at us all the way to the stationwaist.
Schlock:Sounds like a target-rich environment.
Elf:Yes, but I want to practice "no collateral damage" all the way to the target.
Schlock:That doesn't have to mean no shooting. We could just make sure we're aiming really well.