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.