EPISODE CLVI - CULLING THE HERD OF ROSS PEROT LOOK-A-LIKES
Sgt. Marx spritzed off his glass eye and inserted it back into the socket. "You know what your problem is, son?", he asked the brooding Broski.
"Poor impulse control", the corporal suggested.
"Well, maybe", Marx considered, "but mostly you just got too much anger. It's eatin' you up inside."
"Everybody's angry", Broski countered, "it's just that most people aren't as good as expressing it as I am. You might say I'm gifted"
"Yeah, and I might not", Buck remarked dryly. He grabbed a bottle and poured Broski another drink. "Either way, if you don't change, that anger'll consume you."
Broski hoisted the drink to his nose and snorted, ingesting the burning liquid. "Don't worry about me, Sarge", he replied, wiping tears from his eyes, "just give me a gun and something to shoot
at and I'll be just fine."
"And when you run out of things to shoot at", Marx inquired, suddenly very serious, "then what will you do?"
"Well, I'll...", Broski stopped, confused. Nothing to shoot at? That was inconceivable...or was it. A cold, dark grain of doubt began to form in his mind. "Could that happen?"
"Yep", Marx confirmed, "there's always a slim chance of peace breaking out around the universe."
"Geez", the corporal muttered, considering the possibility. "So you really think mankind can finally put an end to war?"
Marx paused dramatically, leaning both hands on the bar and looked Broski dead in the eye. "No", he replied with a grin, "but I had you going there for a second, didn't I?"
