Duffel Blog is proud to present “The Twelve Days of Leave” in keeping with wonderful Christmas military traditions.

On the first day of leave, my dependa gave to me,

A preheated MRE.

On the second day of leave, my dependa gave to me,

Two safety briefs, and a preheated MRE.

On the third day of leave, my dependa gave to me,

Three car payments, two safety briefs and a preheated MRE.

On the fourth day of leave, my dependa gave to me,

Four babies crying, three car payments, two safety briefs and a preheated MRE.

On the fifth day of leave, my dependa gave to me,

Five NJPs, four crying babies, three car payments, two safety briefs and a preheated MRE.

On the sixth day of leave, my dependa gave to me,

Six machine guns jamming, five NJPs, four crying babies, three car payments, two safety briefs and a preheated MRE.

On the seventh day of leave, my dependa gave to me,

Seven trucks a-breaking, six machine guns jamming, five NJPs, four crying babies, three car payments, two safety briefs and a preheated MRE.

On the eighth day of leave, my dependa gave to me,

Eight sergeants screaming, seven trucks a-breaking, six machine guns jamming, five NJPs, four crying babies, three car payments, two safety briefs and a preheated MRE.

On the ninth day of leave, my dependa gave to me,

Nine majors talking, eight sergeants screaming, seven trucks a-breaking, six machine guns jamming, five NJPs, four crying babies, three car payments, two safety briefs and a preheated MRE.

On the tenth day of leave, my dependa gave to me,

Ten helos crashing, nine majors talking, eight sergeants screaming, seven trucks a-breaking, six machine guns jamming, five NJPs, four crying babies, three car payments, two safety briefs and a preheated MRE.

On the eleventh day of leave, my dependa gave to me,

Eleven civilians sleeping, ten helos crashing, nine majors talking, eight sergeants screaming, seven trucks a-breaking, six machine guns jamming, five NJPs, four crying babies, three car payments, two safety briefs and a preheated MRE.

On the twelfth day of leave, my dependa gave to me,

Twelve drones-a-droning, eleven civilians sleeping, ten helos crashing, nine majors talking, eight sergeants screaming, seven trucks a-breaking, six machine guns jamming, five NJPs, four crying babies, three car payments, two safety briefs and a preheated MRE.

You honored the hell out of your military friends and family for Veterans Day. And the Marine Corps birthday. And the Fourth of July. And Memorial Day. And Labor Day for some reason. But now what do you get the ultimate veteran for Christmas? Don’t sweat it. Duffel Blog’s got you.

Our editors curated the perfect gift assortment for every vetbro on your nice list, no matter their EAS date or preferred holiday. Don’t forget to use the code ‘heroworship’ when you check out because of course there is a veteran discount.

1. Woobie Robe: This comfy AF bathrobe has the look and smell of a foxhole-tested poncho liner with the added absorption of French terry cloth to ward off trench crotch. And it has pockets!

2. Ranger Up Shirt-of-the-Month Club: Your special vet gets the same moto t-shirt in a bigger size every month.

3. Ibuprofen Advent calendar: Treat them to Christmas-flavored pain relief all month with eggnog, peppermint, and gingerbread delights. Background choices include pinks and greens Santa or Arlington gravestones dusted with snow.

4. Personalized MARPAT Menorah: You can order hand-crafted candles that resemble all your warrior’s favorite officers so she can burn them in effigy for all the times they burned her.

5. Campaign medal nipple clamps: We know you love to hurt, so bust out your ho-ho-ho with this super moto, super sexy gift that will keep Christmas coming all year round. Kuwait Liberation Medal clamp set currently on back-order.

6. CLP-infused body butter: Impress the armory custodian in your life with just the right hint of scent and just the right touch of lube. Here’s one gift he won’t hand back.

7. Blood stripe Festivus pole: Air your grievances with Marine Corps flair!

8. ‘Veteran’s Little Helper’ Santa hat for your buddy’s service dog: Because your disabled veteran friend’s sole personality trait is that he has a service animal.

9. A blowjob: That’s actually all your veteran wants. Give this gift and be a real holiday hero. No discount code required.

DONNA, Texas — Many U.S. Army spouses and their extramarital lovers are rejoicing following the deployment of their partners to the Mexican Border in support of border security operations, according to reports.

This past Monday marked the first official day of the recently launched operation, a measure the Department of Defense is taking to “strengthen border security.”

It also marked the first opportunity for the partners of those deployed troops to openly philander in their now spouse-less household, a chance some are choosing not to let slip by.

“I thought he would never get deployed, honestly,” said Audrey Timmons, whose husband, Spc. Jason Timmons of Headquarters Battalion, 4th Infantry Division, is currently serving near the border. “I have been itching to get into some strange for a while now. All of my friends who married into the military say it’s what has kept their marriages going for so long.”

The opportunity to philander isn’t only a celebration for those whose spouses are deployed, but also for eager-to-ruin-a-marriage soldiers and civilians, commonly referred to as “Jody” in military circles.

Chad Stevens, a self-described “lifetime Jody” and mechanic at a local auto body shop located near Fort Carson, Co., home to the 4th Infantry Division, says he plans to “wreck some first sergeant’s wife into oblivion” during the course of the unit’s time away.

“I mean everybody in the country knows this mission is a complete joke, but, yeah this was definitely a nice little surprise,” Stevens said. “Afghanistan has been drawing down for a few years now, so people have been coming back and fixing their marriages and shit, and that has really put a damper on my sex life considering all the action I get is from lonely military housewives. I am really looking forward to getting back out there.”

When asked if he considers his behavior or the cheating spouses’ actions to be in poor taste, Stevens was quick to defend, calling himself “a true patriot.”

“Look, I am giving just as much to the overall mission as these deployed soldiers are,” he said. “While they’re out there on the front lines serving our country and protecting us from that caravan of immigrants, which may or may not actually be real, I’m in their houses, on their sofas, in their showers, and on their beds, servicing their wives.”

Soldiers currently supporting border security operations will be gone until mid-December, and although not a typical U.S. Army deployment length, the mission still allows “plenty of time for spouses to cheat,” according to Sandy Alderman, the Family Readiness Group lead to Headquarters Battalion, 4th Infantry Division and the now third wife to its commander, Col. Brian Alderman.

“The odds haven’t been this high since Desert Storm,” Alderman said. “All we can do is support those soldiers who undoubtedly will be cheated on, man or woman. I urge those folks to just take care of themselves, and just know that you are fighting the good fight and helping make our country great again.”

Gen. Terrence O’Shaughnessy, commander of the U.S. Northern Command and North American Aerospace Defense Command, and Kevin McAleenan, the Customs and Border Protection commissioner, shared similar sentiments in regards to the mission during a news conference last week, referring to the current immigration status as a “humanitarian crisis” and that the focus of the mission, is to “harden the points of entry.”

Stevens, however, remains bullish on the border situation in Mexico.

“There is no crisis, everybody knows that. The only crisis is the stain I am about to leave on all those soldiers’ sheets,” he said, winking emphatically. “In fact, I’m going to be opening a lot of borders, if you know what I mean. And make no mistake, I will be hard at the point of entry.”

It was Friday in Camp Lejeune, the Marine base in North Carolina, where a lot of Marines are stationed. A bunch of grunts (those are Marines who are infantry Marines) were gathered on the field but not in formation yet, because they hadn’t been called to formation, but they were going to be soon.

The grunts were talking about all the cool parties and things they were going to do, mostly planning to drink a lot, and bang whores and sluts. One of the Marines, named SteelBlade because names like that are cool, said “I’m going to get so much pussy this weekend!”

Another Marine named DragonKnife, said “I’m going to get SO MUCH pussy! And have lots of alcohol and more sex!”

Steelblade: “Here comes Staff Sgt. Drunkrage Python!” The Marines fell into formation as Staff Sgt. Drunkrage Python walked up. He was a good looking, strong man, who had a giant dick, and got laid all the time because he was a super cool Marine man.

“Listen up Marines!” Drunkrage Python shouted, his voice was loud, and all the Marines listened up, because they respected Drunkrage Python. “Let me tell you a story about what I did last weekend, and I don’t want you to do any of it!”

Drunkrage Python: “I went out to a bar and started drinking but the place was bullshit because they didn’t have well.” (Drunkrage Python said ‘well’ like he heard someone say ‘well drinks’ once but didn’t want to admit he didn’t know what it meant so he said it in a way that didn’t make sense.)

“So I got really drunk and I noticed this girl was giving me the eye, and she was a genuine five star, like skinny runway model with massive tits, and so I go over to her, and I say ‘Hi,’ and she blew me in the bathroom. After the blowjob I started driving her back to her place, to have sex with her, and her three other model roommates, and I dropped her off, and went to park. I tried to park but I drove the car into a dry cleaners.”

“I realized I had to get out of there, so I jumped out of the car, but my stomach started gurgling, and I shit my pants right there, and wiped my ass with a Japanese businessman’s suit. Then I ran out of the dry cleaners because nobody had called the cops or anything. This is exactly how this all happened.

“The night was still young so I went to a strip club nearby, and a super hot stripper started giving me a lap dance. Then she asked if I wanted to rent a champagne room and I talked her into paying for it, and we went back there and we totally fucked.”

“After that I realized the model, and all her friends were still waiting for me, so I started going back to their place, but some big meathead dude stopped me and was like ‘hey I know you, you’re Drunkrage Python!’ and I was like ‘yeah so what?’ and he was like ‘you slept with my girlfriend!’ and I was like ‘yeah I probably did but I don’t remember because I bang so many whores,’ and he was like ‘don’t call my girl a whore!’ He tried to hit me but I kicked his ass.

“Then I went and had sex with all five of the model chicks who were all smoking hot.”

Drunkrage Python paused so his story would sink in with the Marines. He spoke again.

Drunkrage Python: “But I do stuff like that all the time so I forgot about it until a few minutes ago. Oh yeah, I also fucked a midget once. They’re going to make a movie about it. It’s going to be the #1 R-rated comedy of all time, because it’s so hilarious, and everyone in Hollywood has no idea what they’re doing, which is why my movie is going to be so amazingly awesome, and hilarious.”

“If you’re going to do stuff like that, make sure you’re cool, but you’re all cool because you’re Marines, you can do all this crazy stuff and never run into the cops at all.”

The Marines nodded. They understood. They each bought 50 copies of Drunkrage Python’s book and a bunch of female Marines went to Drunkrage Python’s website and applied to have sex with him. He only had sex with the hotties.

1. WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

2. Why are you 3 hours late?

3. Wait, you were just a goat farmer yesterday?

4. Jesus Christ, what do you mean you need to get back to your goats?

5. No, I don’t want a goat, will you just get in the damn truck?

6. Does anybody know where the hell we got this guy from?

7. No sir, we are still five mikes out. Did you know he was a goat farmer?

8. Why can’t you get out of the truck?

9. You don’t think I know it’s dangerous here?

10. Will you just put your helmet on, so we can go talk to this guy?

11. Is this man an insurgent?

12. What do you mean “what is an insurgent?”

13. I don’t feel like I am yelling at you, do you feel like I am yelling at you?

14. What the hell, you’re quitting???

15. (To self, roughly two weeks later): Wait, why is my old interpreter shooting at us?

I do not know why you all look to me to give you direction for your weekend activities, much less your lives. Had I the choice, I would remove the shackles the lieutenant has placed upon me concerning your lives, and indeed, those of him upon me.

Sir, are these men and women not motivated to keep safe by their own interest? What strength have my cautions against their own instinct of self-preservation? Further, how might you defend your insistence to the troops in avoiding the excess of alcohol, while your Facebook account shows you naked and drunk during your stay at the Academy?

Alas, the detestable authority over me forces my hand.

Men, women, Marines: as you decide the course your weekend shall take you, make choices by your own free will, and serve neither master nor god. Satisfy your urges for drink (though, preferably, without excess exuberance), and consider with appropriate conscionability your willingness to drive thereafter. Do not compel another individual to satisfy your sexual urges. Rather, seek consent; the freedom of choice. Upon reaching agreeable terms for intercourse (whether for mutual enjoyment or a monetary sum), weigh your own risk of acquiring a sexually transmitted disease.

But the question is not what will I let you do; it’s who is going to stop you? This payday weekend, remember that money is but a tool. It will take you wherever you wish, but it does not replace you as the driver. You can evade reality during liberty, but you cannot avoid the consequences when you stand in front of the sergeant major.

Failure to account for a risk is the definition of idiocy. Should you return on Monday morning a cripple, rapist, or herpetic, you will have made yourself a fool, thus committing the greatest evil upon yourself.

Then I will make my disdain for you clear: I will put you forward for NJP, and end my unwanted involvement in your affairs.

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you’ll probably want to know is where the hookers are, and where to get drunk cheap, and who sells meth the cheapest, and what a bunch of disappointing jerks you all are, and all that Gunny Highway kind of crap.

In the first place, that stuff bores me, and in the second, the company commander would crap a red star cluster if I went into it. He’s quite touchy about anything like that, especially since the last first sergeant got a DUI but they managed to cover it up. The company commander thinks he’s going to get a star, and he’ll put his mouth anywhere on anyone he thinks can get him one. And even though he preaches all the time about “do the right goddam thing!” he’s definitely not above completely lying to hide a mistake if he thinks he can get away with it.

Stay away from Antolini’s whore house. Yeah, sure, on the outside it looks just like a regular place, but the guys and girls in there are not your friends. This one time, I went there with a buddy. And we are in the bar waiting for our dates, and the bartender fixes me a highball of some sort of drink I’d never had. He makes them real strong, you can tell. Then something happened. I don’t even like to talk about it. I woke up all of a sudden on a couch. I woke and there’s some guy’s hand on my head. What it was, it was Mr. Antolini’s hand. He was rubbing my high-and-tight.

“What the hellya doing?” I yelled at him. Boy I was shaking like a madman. Whenever something perverty happens to me, I start sweating. That kind of thing has happened to me like 20 times since I was a private. So stay out of the whore house.

Now you might be tempted to walk over toward Broadway, just for the hell of it. Don’t. Jesus Christ, just don’t, okay? The liquor stores are full of Russian mafia guys who just can’t wait to steal your identity, see? I mean, full of them. Don’t even take your credit card with you, unless you want to be buying a goddam Russian oligarch’s girlfriend her next fake tits.

If you go to Hooters, that’s probably okay. But you have to stay out of the goddam bar next to Hooters. I went in there one time when I was an E-4, me and old DeShaun. Between he and I, we were pretty drunk, I don’t mind telling you, when this one goddam civilian starts trying to bother old DeShaun. Well, I got busted right in the goddam mouth but good. But old DeShaun put that guy right in the hospital. Which was too good for him. That guy should have wound up a lot worse than in the hospital. So stay out of the goddam bar next to Hooters.

Unless you want to wind up like the guy who had this job before me, wear a rubber. Jesus, okay? Not that it’s any of my business. But I don’t want it to have to become my goddam business either.

That’s all I’m going to tell you about. I could probably tell you what I am going to drink after I get home, or which gun I’m going to point at my temple and put in my mouth, and what happened to the money I saved for retirement, but I don’t feel like it. I really don’t. That stuff doesn’t interest me too much right now. If you want to know the truth, I don’t know what I’m even doing here. I really don’t.

Greetings brothers and sisters. Before you go forth, allow me to bestow on you some wisdom. I feel like my Father hit these main points about 4,000 years ago, but some of you need a reminder.

For starters, no gods before me and no idols, okay? What that means is do not worship at the altar of Coors Light. Think “What would Jesus do?” not “How many shots can I do?”

Don’t take my name in vain, and really, just watch your mouth in general. The way some of you talk would make Satan blush. It is not okay to tell the young lady who works at McDonald’s you want some “effing fries” and her “digits if she wants to get freaky.”

Keep holy the Sabbath, which for you is midnight tonight or 1600 Sunday, if you filled out the appropriate liberty paperwork. In other words, don’t miss curfew.

Honor your mother and father, or your first sergeant, for you orphans in the barracks. I know they taught you to dress in an appropriate manner, which does not include showing the world your undergarments, midriff, cleavage, or any portion of your backside.

Don’t kill anyone, okay? That’s a biggie right there. Not only is it a mortal sin, which would cause you to burn in hell for all eternity, but it is a massive mountain of paperwork for the staff.

No adultery, folks. You should only “know” your own husband or wife. And while we’re on the topic of marriage, don’t go out and get married this weekend unless you have your commanding officer’s permission. Especially don’t get married to someone you meet at an establishment that has fire poles, mechanical bulls or neon lighting as part of the décor.

Stealing, even if it’s just a pack of smokes or $10 from your passed-out roommate, will get you brig time, my friend. If you hadn’t wasted all that money on a car with tricked out wheels and a BOSE sound system from that used car lot out the back gate, you could afford that new Xbox console you’ve been coveting. Speaking of coveting, that’s technically a sin too. You should really just save your money for things like college, retirement or a trained lawyer, since you’ll probably need one someday.

Lying – yeah, you’re bad at that, and I would know, since just like Santa and the gunny, I know everything you do. Yes, we saw you miscounting the situps (sinner), we know what you do in the shower (mortal sinner) and we know about the 6-pack under your rack (underage sinner). It’s better to just man/woman-up and admit your mistakes, and they might be more lenient on you at company NJP.

Go in peace to love and serve Me and behave yourself, or I swear to Buddha, I will tell the first sergeant what you really keep in your footlocker.

Duffel Blog writer Lee Ho Fuk contributed to this article.