>>5 No! Comments with only back-patting, my one weakness! Honestly thanks though, I'm glad it's a new side of Scout for you June >>6 Holy Balls, It's Marty. I am bewildered by your glory. No seriously I'm bewildered. I name one of the brothers after you and you pop up. Thanks for the tip with the use of parentheticals. Also don't worry, porn will come once the time arrives. I just prefer plot with my porn. In general putting out an APB for concrit. I want it more than I want to see the new users fall for the tried and true "ekks-dee" word filter. January 21 1968 Damn rockets, Damn Solly, don’t care which one. Damn ‘em both. Fuck Spy, he turned out to be a bitch. Damn everybody here except Red and Engie. Been here over a week man! The least they could do is smile, or save some hot water or tell me that those jars are NOT full of lemonade. Assfag-Wombat-Man uses them for piss. PISS! WHY THE FUCK WAS THERE PISS IN THE FRIDGE?! So anyway, I killed someone on my third day, after getting my ass shot a hundred billion times in a row (well maybe not SHOT. I also was burning to death, getting stabbed, needled, punched, decapitated, peed on, drowned, blown up and hit with rockets) The guy I killed was a sniper. Take that you bastard. I killed his ass with this cool thing called a scattergun. It’s like a shotgun, only it’s way smaller, like my size. What was I- oh yea, used the scattergun on Sniper then I got shot, again. That respawn shit is WEIRD. You don’t know what happens until you just wake up, clean and y’know, not swiss cheese with legs. Third day I was too tired, to angry to stick around do I went outside and headed for the outskirts of this damn place where I could hide in peace. It’s called Goldrush I think. I went towards a building that looks like god took a pair of cleats and kicked the ever-loving shit out of it. So I go in there, thinking I can avoid Solly yelling at me and the asshole Spy calling me “mon petit chihuahua con queso chou chou†or whatever the shit it is. By now I think I should know NOTHING I think will go right ever does. So I was actually surprised when I bumped into someone who was limping away from the battle. Red looks a lot like me, not as hot but he’d definately give my brothers a nice little reality check. He’s got brown hair though and blue eyes, like fucking electric blue eyes. I almost did n’t realize I should be trying to shoot him until he tried to shove me and ground out a few words. “Assclown! The hell is your problem Blue?†“Watch it rat fucker! I’m walkin’ here!†“You watch it cockmouth!†“Your MOM is a cockmouth!†Long story short: We had a nice little scuffle, no guns or nothin’. Just hands. By the time we stopped the match was over and we were all beat up. “You hit like a pussy.†He huffed out at me. “Least I don’t got one.†He laughed, goddamn he looked like he could have been one of my brothers for real. “Truce?†“Until work, yea sure.†Then we both started laughing. It hurt sure but it was a good kinda hurt, like after running a long ways or roughing your brothers up. I hadn't thought I'd miss them when I took this job. Anyways, enough pansy crying, I got a new friend out of it and he's a Sox fan from Boston turns out. For all I know he went to school with Richard or Danny and Vince. I hope not. I was a fucking brat to their friends. Red’s been here for two years, the guy before me, my predocessor or pedocessor or whatever it is decided to head home with a signifigantly fatter wallet around thanksgiving. Anyways Red’s cool. He told me that I can always come to him. Even if I’m BLU or RED or fucking magenta, if I need some help. Turns out I think I’ll need whatever help I can get with these jerks. More later. -Scout