Maximilian

Creator


Terminal Lance #334 “Exhaust Fumes”

July 18, 2014

You could probably make an entire comic series out of morning PT alone. The daily ritual is so fraught with simultaneously monotonous and unique experiences, it’s a wonder I haven’t done more on the subject. As most of you are aware, I’m sure, you generally have to run morning PT in a formation of some kind so your squad, section or platoon doesn’t look like a total bag of dicks sweating across the base. As such, one of the dangers is inevitably being exposed to the noxious fumes emitted by your fellow war fighters. There’s really no way around it, you’re forced to endure not only a grueling run, but simultaneously inhaling particles of alcohol and Nitro-Tech™ accented shit from the rectum of whoever happens to be in front of you.

There are other, more obvious dangers of always running in a formation. For instance, if you’re not the last person in a formation and you trip, you’d better move out of the way like a fucking cat on bath salts unless you want to take down the three Marines behind you as well as get your nuts stomped into the pavement. Immediate dangers such as running in the dark is always fun, literally not even able to see the ground and trusting that the Marine in front of you isn’t stepping into a pothole or small curb for you to so exquisitely roll your ankle on.

In other news, there’s some pretty big, awesome things coming in the very near future along with The White Donkey. I can’t tell you what the next big thing is yet, but I’m just going to leave this HESCO barrier here…

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