The following is an opinion article written by your anus.
FORT BRAGG — Listen, you know that I’ve been with you literally every step of the way. Together through thick and then, since you were a little kid. This is hard for me to say. I know we’re on a five-mile company run. I know if we fall out, our squad leader, platoon sergeant and first sergeant will each take turns smoking the dogshit out of us. I get it. But I can’t go on.
We’re a little over a mile and a half in. If we really concentrate, maybe we’ll make it. You can make a "Thunder Run" into a portashitter near Towle Stadium real quick and use one of your socks to wipe and then sprint to catch up.
Maybe both socks. Maybe both sides of each. It’s probably gonna be messy. Frankly, they'll probably be occupied. Or gone. Or tipped over.
