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MRE bartering and trading is a common practice in the field, as each package comes with completely different stuff. Generally, MRE’s come with one entree, a cracker or “snack bread,” a spread and a dessert. The holy grail and reigning champion of these is still the coveted Jalapeño Cheese Spread. This sounds atrocious, but it’s absolutely delicious.
Imagine, if you will, sitting on cold wet dirt, your rifle leaning up against your thigh and your MRE sitting atop your upturned boonie cover in front of you. You open the rather unappetizing brown plastic bag and empty the contents. You sift through plain, cardboard boxed items; “Chili w/beans,” “Tortillas,” something called a “Ranger Bar.” Just as you’re ready to open up your Chili w/beans you see it, underneath the accessory packet of random tissues and salt and shit.
Jalapeño Cheese Spread.
It glows, a children’s choir can be heard behind you as you pick it up. You realize you’re out in the open, you look over your shoulder to see other Marines sifting through their depressing dinners. One of them glances at you, it’s Ramirez. You never really liked him, he’s oppressively Mexican and leaves his door open in the barracks while he blasts his terrible taste in music. He just finished telling a joke and is looking around to see if anyone heard him.
Your eyes meet. You look away, clutching your treasured spiced cheese. Ramirez loves this shit, he can’t see it. If he does, he’ll obnoxiously announce to the entire platoon that you have the Jalapeño Cheese, and everyone will try to barter you for it. It’s mostly harmless but largely annoying.
You stand up, pick up your MRE-filled boonie and rifle, never looking back at him, and you walk toward the MRAP. You cautiously open the back hatch to make sure it’s empty. You climb inside and set your cover on top of the turret platform, your rifle in the seat next to you. In total solitude, you covet the small, brown jalapeño cheese packet.
You open it with your teeth and you squeeze the contents directly into your mouth. You don’t even bother putting it on a tortilla, this shit is dank as fuck.
Yeah, that’s basically what Jalapeño Cheese Spread is like.
To shift gears here for a second, I want to reiterate that Terminal Lance is, and will always be, A-Political. This means that I don’t talk about politics, I don’t give a fuck who you vote for. This upsets some people, who want me to sit here and pander to their idiotic outrage, and I’m not going to do it. Terminal Lance is about the common experience of the Marine Corps, not to push a political agenda. My apathy toward your cause is not a political standpoint.
If you want a funny Marine Corps comic strip, you came to the right place. If you’re looking for someone to pander to your shitty opinions, I urge you to move on.
Lastly, I urge you to pick up next week’s Marine Corps Times print edition… It’s going to be a doozy, so I’ve heard.
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