Conveigled news, fictional accounts, please remember that this didn't really happen.
Flexing the creativity muscles 馃挭 to bring you the funny when once again upon more familiar shores, your eyes and mouth get LIT UP! with smiles and 'laugh-out-loud' legitimate enjoyment of this ride we're all on together...
Called life.
The absolutely untrue, irrevocably stamped with the maximum authority label of utter shite, begins thus:
But first, just for funsies, a pic from nearly twenty years ago... Before I was recruited 馃え
Special ops doesn't mean the same thing as being labeled 'special' when you're in grade school.
Neither does Special Forces, Specialty Pizza 馃崟, or Special Agent.
None of that matters.
When your assignment means that the success of your op is wholly dependent upon the successful execution of another human being, from 750 meters, in high wind, and at night...
That's when you recognize what the word 'special' truly means.
In and out (the most incredibly delicious burger joint on planet earth) in under 24 hours, halfway across the 馃審, under the guise and auspice of a wholly unrecognizable human being, is a maximal requirement of mission success once the operation has been successfully fulfilled:
The proper celebratory aftermath:
Murder is wrong.
Committing murder to prevent more murders from occurring?
That's where it gets crafty...
Two words for this next photo:
Plausible Deniability.
Hurting people is gross - so yeah, don't do that.
The last thing I want is another contract.
Be good, be kind, remember that you're here to take care of one another.
Not in the same capacity I'm occasionally called to action for...
OK!
So there's your daily dose of fiction writing for February, once again, not real, never happened, totally just for kicks 馃槈
Two is one, one is none.
鉁岋笍
