“I’m never drinking again,” said Seth.
As we tried to get our shit together after another night of debauchery with the crew inside C.I.C (Combat Intelligence Central) still pretty drunk from the night before. Good thing C.I.C was a dark place with the latest high-tech gadgets monitoring terrorist activities around the world but I was just super glad there wasn’t any bright lights to show any incriminating evidence on our faces.
“Seth, do you have a black eye?”
“What? When the hell did that happen.”
“It was probably when you got punch by that gay Arabian guy at that super gay club,” said Skuba.
“What?” from a very confused Seth.
“Listen. I did want tell you but when you get black out drunk you kinda turn gay, which is cool, I mean we don’t ask but don’t tell anyone.”
“Yeah, you pulled us into this real dark club with bunch of Arabian dudes making out then you got into fight with this really hairy dude with his shirt off talking about marrying his camel or something,” said Skuba as he was eating a bag of tuna.
“What the fuck?” said Seth.
“Oh yeah, I remember now it was right after we got kicked out of our hotel because we trashed our whole floor.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t after we started a fight with those Army cunts at Planet Hollywood,” asking Skuba.
“Wild Turkey should be banned from public consumption,” said Seth having a look of regret.
“Why the hell are you eating that bag of tuna?” Looking at Skuba.
“Because dolphins are smart and it’s making me smarter,” confidently said by Skuba.
“You do realize Dolphins don’t eat themselves,” as Seth eats a bag of oats trying to put some kinda of food down his stomach.
“Is that why you’re eating that bag of oats?” I ask Seth.
“Of course not. I’m a thoroughbred. I need oats to feel strong,” stuffing half a bag of oats without water down his mouth.
“Duh asshole. I’m a dolphin, Seth is a horse and you’re an asshole,” said Skuba eating his bag of tuna.
What the fuck is the matter with us as I thought looking my crew inside Combat Intelligence Central, which at the current moment the most intelligent thing about the room was all those expensive machines and certainly not the monkeys working on them.
“Alright stop with the tomfoolery,” shouted the Captain as he stepped into C.I.C as we stand in attention. Our cap was a former linebacker for “The” Ohio State University, which he was still big as a fridge and still aggressive as fuck. I respected him a lot but I could not shake off his Tom Selleck mustache. I was drawn to it like a moth to a flame, which I kept thinking what he would like in a Hawaiian shirt?
“Listen boys, these men are our high target priorities for this month. Please study these faces because they are Axes of Evil.”
As the Captain put up America’s Most Wanted on the War Board, I just kept thinking he’s perfect man for this post because we are a bunch of babies, who need a spanking but I just wished Steve Guttenberg was here to help us out. Fuck Ted Danson!
“Your job men is explore, identity, evaluate, implement then execute. We are the architects that plan out the master plan then we execute putting the hammer down!”
We stand in attention again after that motivating speech as the Captain leaves C.I.C.
“You guys know what the hell Her Alibi was talking about,” asking Skuba.
“I think he was telling us get more tuna and oats at the commissary, then get some ice cream,” as Seth throws up his oats at the nearest trash can.
“I’m never drinking again,” said Seth holding the trashcan like his baby.
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