Commandant to resume duties after ground-fighting Satan, inspecting Heaven's Marines
Concerns over possibility of another aviator Commandant forced early return
The Commandant of the Marine Corps prepares to shoulder-throw Satan
MARINE BARRACKS, 8th and I Streets, Washington DC – America breathed a sigh of relief following the announcement that General Eric Smith, 39th Commandant of the Marine Corps, would be resuming duties as the head of his service.
“I am deeply grateful to the medical professionals who saved my life and accelerated my recovery, as well as to the outpouring of support my family received following my little heart hiccup,” said Smith during a brief public appearance. “But as a Marine, I know that the mission comes first, so I’m back and ready to join my Marines in defending this great nation against enemies foreign, domestic, or with choad nicknames like, say…Coach.”
General Smith confessed that the break had its benefits. “To be honest, spending days in a near-death state, while my spirit strayed out of thought and time, was really relaxing compared to the unique opportunity granted me by some in Congress to work multiple 4-star jobs simultaneously.” Smith continued. “I went TAD to heaven, hell, and spaces in between, making sure demons and angels all had their shit in one sock regardless of billet responsibilities.”
Smith’s reported first stop during his extra-dimensional travels was the ninth circle of Hell, domain of the Prince of Darkness, known throughout the world by various names such as Legion, Apollyon, Belial, Al-Shaitan, Lucifer, or DTS.
“That last one surprised me,” said Smith. “But it’s how Azazel, the NCO on duty at the gates of hell, introduced the Demon Lord of the Underworld. Apparently, it’s a callsign referencing Lucifer’s simultaneously excruciatingly detailed yet wholly unresponsive-to-needs pre-flight mission briefs in heaven. It made perfect sense to me that God would assign a douchebag pilot to supervise the dwelling place of the worst of humanity. Also, I can’t imagine anything more horrifying than putting DTS in charge of an entire plane of existence.”
Once on Hell’s scenes, General Smith wasted no time in tracking Satan down for a kneecap-to-kneecap mentoring session. “I told that old twister that the U.S. of A. was done with his bullshit up top. It was bad enough he’d tricked the Russians into teaching Americans where Ukraine was on a map and tried to burn down Hawaii, but starting another war in the Middle East? Jesus Christ!” Smith shook his head. “Now, I have to invite Ice Spice to the next birthday ball where she wears the mess dress uniform and I wear the wig and ‘Princess’ necklace because I made a bet with Dave Berger that I wouldn’t even have to think about the word ‘CENTCOM’ for 4 years.”
“I’m ashamed to say I lost my bearing at that point,” acknowledged Smith. “I jabbed a knife hand into Satan’s throat, did an armbar take-down to put him on his face, and then we ground-fought for a couple of minutes before I put him in a blood choke. I only let him go when he promised he’d ensure Tommy Tuberville dies by choking on a literal bag of dicks.”
Smith next stopped by The Pearly Gates for a surprise inspection of the Marines who guard heaven’s streets. “You cannot expect what you do not inspect. I had high expectations for Marine Security Guard Detachment- Heaven, and they did not disappoint. The guard posts were manned and alert, the parking lot in a good state of police, and Corporal of the Guard Schmuckatelli rattled off the 4,384,934,029,939,625,913♾️ General Orders of Heaven without a second’s hesitation. I asked if he needed anything—all he wanted was a new Sharpie to update the artwork inside the porta-potty at his guard post. Bless that Marine’s dedication; I gave him two, ‘basic black’ and ‘veiny pink’.”
Smith had planned to visit several otherworldly realms during his astral projection TAD, such as Purgatory, Limbo, Swarga Loka, Feywild, and Ravenloft. Unfortunately, the Commandant was forced to spend 300 lives of men on hold with the Defense Travel Management Office “emergency” helpline while trying to adjust his itinerary and had to shorten his trip due to a lack of time and pressing matters on the corporeal plane.
“When Chesty’s ghost, who says ‘Roll Tide’ incidentally, told me that a couple of aviators were running the Corps, I knew I had to get back before those stick jockeys had us storming beaches in our service Charlies. Still, just because my body was sitting on its ass didn’t mean my spirit was. I want the American people to know that I, and every deceased Marine through history were vigorously protecting their interests across multiple planes of existence.”
“Anyway, it’s good to be back. I’m ready for duty thanks to a new ticker the docs at Walter Reed put in me while I was cloud-surfing. It’s an experimental procedure, transplanting a shark heart from a creature caught near Fukushima, Japan. I’m told this heart will never, ever run out of power, and it gets me back to my amphibious roots, just like we need the Marine Corps to do. Plus it’s military health care so there are literally no chances of strange side effects.”
Kay Too Ess Ohhhhh finds your excuses vague and unconvincing.