I got better
Maybe we could go out for coffee sometime?
Coffee’s for closers only.
(ok kinda obvious but it needed to be done)
No, I saw only him.
It changed colors, like the chameleon, it uses the jungle.
He says the sun came out last night. He says it sang to him.
It’s the children. They’re singing.
I’d like to dedicate this to my father, Francis L. It’s a song the girls in the band wrote, Lisa and Wendy.
Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all. Come with me where you’ll never, never have to worry about grown up things again.
My father was in the Secret Service, Mr. Manfredjinsinjin, and I know perfectly well that you don’t keep the general public informed when you are “debriefing KGB defectors in a safe house.”
You carry a UB-21 Schnauzer with a Gnab silencer. That’s KGB. You prefer an H&K over an A.K. Your surveillance technique is NSA. Your ID is CIA. You received your Ph.D. at NYU. Traded in your GTO for a BMV. You listen to CDs by R.E.M. and STP. And you’d like to see J.F.K. in his BVDs, getting down with O.P.P. And you probably put the toilet paper back on the roll with the paper on the inside.
That was a static-filled, triple-scrambled microwave transmission between 2 soldiers talking in mandarin Chinese.
Radio Man, remember, Marine, ours is not to question why, ours is but to do or die. Semper Fi. Over
Why we are on this particular mission, we’ll never know. But I do know, here today, that the Black Knights will emerge victorious once again.
This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you stand, men of the West!
You’d do it for Randolph Scott!
Great Scott!
Miss Teschmacher!
Frau Blucher!
Adrian!