The Weapons Guy

What's Mine Is Yours

At Red Base Grif and Ash are watching Donut trying to get on top of the base by jumping through the hole in the roof.

"Donut, there's no way you can jump that high." Grif tells Donut.

"Yes I can!" Donut says with confidence. He jumps up a couple times. "Yes I can!"

"Well, keep doing it." Ash says. "It's entertaining to watch."

Simmons walks over to them. "What the hell is he doing?"

Grif and Ash turn to Simmons.

"Losing a bet." Grif says.

"I'm here to watch Donut embarrass himself." Ash says.

Donut jumps up and lands on the ground. "Oh, I almost got it that time! Are you sweating yet, sucker!"

Grif turns back to Donut. "No, I can't sweat. Simmons' stupid sweat glands don't even work right."

"What?" Simmons shouts and Grif turns to him. "They were working when I gave them to you."

"Please." Grif starts. "I'm not moist in any of the usual places. If you want them back so bad, take 'em."

Simmons sighs. "I can't Sarge says that sweat makes my cyborg parts rusty, so I'm cooled by Freon now."

"Ah, delicious Freon." Grif says.

Ash turns to Simmons. "Sarge used up all my Freon! I needed all that for my freeze ray."

Grif begins to cough.

"Grif, are you alright?" Simmons asks. "Are my lungs okay? Hey, wait a minute. Are you smoking inside your helmet again?"

"What? No!" Grif exhales and smoke leaves his helmet. "Oops."

"Damn it, I knew this would happen." Simmons is angry. "And how many snack cakes have you had today?"

"None." Simmons stares at Grif. "Ok, five.... or more. baker's dozen at most."

"Holy shit." Ash says. "You're fat!" Grif turns to Ash and hits him. "Ow!"

"Do you even know how many there are in a baker's dozen?" Simmons asks Grif.

Grif turns to Simmons. "By my count. Forty-eight."

"Alright. That's it." Simmons says. "No more smoking, no more drinking, and no more overeating, chubby! You're not going to ruin my body parts the same way you ruined yours."

. "That's okay. I can think of different ways to ruin them."

There's a crash from inside the base. "Ah! Ah! Ow! Ahhhh!" Donut screams. "Who left the spleen ball where someone could trip on it?" Ash takes a few steps back from the hole. "I think I broke something." Donut looks up to Simmons. "Simmons, I need your ovaries"

Simmons sighs and turns to Grif. "Ugh, I really hate this army."

Sarge comes over to the three. "Grif! Ash! Simmons 2.0! I just got off the horn with Command. I'm afraid we have a situation."

"Aw, don't tell me they canceled the holiday party again!" Simmons asks. "Those cheap bastards. All I wanted was one night of care-free dancing, but noo! I ask you, when is it gonna be Simmons' turn? When?!"

Ash gasps. "Did they cancel my order of RDX, Dioctyl sebacate, polyisobutylene and mineral/motor oil!"

Grif and Sarge stare at the two.

"Uh, actually, the problem is with Lopez." Sarge says.

Grif looks to Sarge. "Don't tell me. The Consulate General from Spanish Land is coming , and without Lopez, we don't have anyone to translate."

"There's no such thing as Spanish Land, you retard." Simmons insults Grif.

"Yes there is. They have those, uh, uh, water slides. And all that salsa!" Grif says.

"No, they don't."

"Well, I guess you would know."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Simmons asks. "For the last time, I'm Dutch-Irish!"

"Hey, don't let your fiery Latin temper get out of control. I was just trying to make a point."

"Can it, Frankenstein." Sarge orders Grif. "We've got a pot on the front burner, and it's a-boilin' over. I've just learned that Command implanted Lopez with secret instructions, detailing the next phase of our operations. Do you have any idea what this means?"

"Building a new weapon?" Ash asks.

"I,uh..." Grif turns to Simmons. "uh, Simmons? You want to take this one?"

"Were you not listening again?" Simmons asks Grif. "What the hell were you thinking about?"

"Certainly not water slides, I can tell you that much. Or salsa." Grif says.

Sarge continues. "What is means is that if we don't get back Lopez before the Blues uncover our secret plans, we'll be up Pooper Creek without a paddle."

"We, G- ah- that's gross!" Grif yells.

"I'm talking about being lost in a forest of filth without a compass." Sarge continues with the gross metaphors.  Swimmin' in a river of sick with no floaties on. Drivin' blind, into the tunnel of-"

Simmons interrupts. "Sir, I think we get the picture. The very, very disturbing picture."

"I think I'm gonna throw up." Ash says sounding sick.

"You sure?" Sarge asks Simmons. "I could go on."

"I'm sure you could." Grif says. "But no. Really."

"Just one more." Sarge says.

"No!" Ash yells.

"Come on there, fun."

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06-29-2022