The safety briefing was a repetition of the week before, save that the need for drink was becoming overpowering to the dozing gunnery sergeant. The snarling of his Marines was losing its efficacy. Besides, they were snarling all the time, and his benumbed and soon-to-be-retired senses no longer took note of changing pitch, the constant access to energy drinks and Cope, and the common desire for liberty. He jerked awake.
The she-staff sergeant was less than a yard from him. Almost automatically, he thrust a Rip-it energy drink full into her open and snarling mouth. She leapt backward, howling with excitement and hate, and dripping the liquid from her fangs, and while he took satisfaction in the thought of quenching the thirst of yet another dehydrated Marine, he watched her shaking her head and growling wrathfully at his by-the-numbers standards on liberty.
Before he dozed again, he tied a lit Marlboro cigarette to his right hand. His eyes were closed but a few minutes when the burn of the cigarette on his flesh awakened him. Every time he was thus awakened he drove back the pack of liberty-seeking Marines with flying admonishments about the dangers of unprotected sex and uncontrolled alcohol, and lit and tied a new cigarette on his hand. That worked well, but there came a time when he fastened the cigarette insecurely. As his eyes closed it fell away from his hand, and he fell asleep.
