"Quit sulking", Stauch ordered, sickened by Broski's childish behavior.
"I'm not sulking", the corporal shot back, though his eyes remained on the floor. "I'm looking for my canteen cup."
"That's another thing I wanted to talk to you about."
"What...?!?"
"Your obsession with that cup", Stauch explained. "It gives me the willies."
Broski cast a hurt glance at the sergeant. "It's completely monogamous, Sarge. We're just good friends."
"You're not helping your case", Stauch remarked. He turned to Sgt. Randaway. "Could you supervise the G.I. party my men just volunteered for?"
"Sure thing", Randaway replied excitedly, finally able to put his keen organizational skills to work. He walked off, issuing orders to anyone he saw.
Stauch turned back to Broski, who had found his cup and was cradling it protectively against his body. "This isn't easy for me", Stauch continued, his tone carrying an uncommon heaviness, "but I
have to do something about your behavior."
"Like give me a medal?!?", Broski asked with renewed enthusiasm.
"No, like have you speak to Counselor Billoway."
"That head cannibal?!?", Broski exclaimed. "I ain't no loonie tune, Sarge. I'm just a little...eccentric."
Stauch shook his head dismally. "It's probably just a case of cabin fever", he suggested hopefully, gesturing around at the close confines of the commandoes' barracks, "but I'd feel a lot better
if you'd talk to him."
Broski shuffled his feet, unable to meet his superior's gaze. "Ah gee, Sarge. Do I have to?"
"I'm afraid so, Corporal."
"Alright", Broski finally agreed. "I don't see how it's going to help, but I'll do it for you, Sarge. You and my canteen cup", he added, caressing the tin beverage holder lovingly.
