GREAT LAKES, Ill. – From his withdrawn perch on the bulkhead, Solomon B. McFly reported that he was suddenly overcome by a pervasive and unremitting wave of sorrow as he observed “the undisciplined gaggle of 80 repulsive teens” before him.
“I weep for our great nation,” he said unblinkingly, his proboscis dangling forlornly and the disappointment plainly etched upon his face. “Is this the best there is to offer? My larvae, my pupae, this is the world I leave them?”
“Surely, there must be some shred of civility and nobility in this world?” he posited, as the teeming mass of sweaty recruits in blue and gold regressed into a frenzied orgy. “An unsung hero to unite and instill this immoral hodgepodge of fat-bodied sloths and gangly warlocks with common virtues and ethics?”
“Woe, if only by the grace of some benevolent spirit I were to be squashed into the eternal embrace of darkness, so I may escape this wretched hell,” sighed McFly, as the general buttfuckery deteriorated further.
As one pockmarked, amoebic slob victoriously extracted a green wad of slime from the deep recesses of his nose and greedily gobbled it up, eyes rolling back in a rush of ecstasy, McFly succumbed to the nihilistic realities of his existence.
“At least I’ll only be around for 24 more hours,” he concluded.