the JEWSIAN FUSION INTRUSION

This is a top secret document kept by the Jewsian Fusion throughout the entirety (basically) of their recent adventures in New Mexiho. Proceed with utmost caution.

After a grueling inspection, we have been deemed both safe for society and official badasses. Now we chill with our chilled coffees. The pilots at Gate 7 have been subdued by the elderly into a lethargic stupor. In approximately ten minutes, we will valiantly storm the enemy gate from Gate 8, our new " HQ." Then, with our new pilot friends, we will gracefully retreat to New Mexiho. What was it the walrus said? Oh, yes... THE TIME HAS COME.

Getaway sucessful. We seem to find ourselves in some sort of camp, as opposed to the camp we infiltrated. This camp is much more dryer and female than the other. Either someone fiddled with our color sensors or everything in this country is brown. We haven't found anywhere to exchange our cash for New Pesos yet, but hopefully we'll find some sort of bank in this alien land. Tomorrow is some sort of test of endurance. If we survive, perhaps we shall log again. AU REVOIR! and Godspeed.

Strapped into this transportation module, headed towards destiny and possible doom, our fellow passengers practice a satanic ritual of sorts. They eventually sucked us into a whirlpool of sin spiraling down to HELL. After discovering Kathy's true, vile feelings about Katie Holmes, Melissa admitted her lust towards Tobey Maguire, her "sexy vegetarian," as she has so admiringly dubbed him. The time approaches when we must continue our trek across scorching deserts and twisted ropes. If we survive, we shall return.

After completing the hellish mission, we return weary, perspiring, and much more British than before. The enemy camp was littered with mile-high wooden structures, very obviously constructed with the most sinister intentions. This meant only one thing: we must quickly gear up, buckle down, and scale the monstrous creations. It was only logical. Though we encountered hardships such as scorching heats, dizzying heights, and alarmingly inappropriate and unflattering harnesses, we've come to realize that there's only one thing we can truly depend on in these dire situations: our unwavering ability to make petty, yet hilarious remarks at each other's expense. In this unreliable world, something as sure as that is a rarity we shall treasure for as long as we decide to refrain from killing each other.

We've been divided into multiple units, each with its own life-risking missions to complete. We were led into the tremulous battlefield with out commanding officers. With fire in our bellies and hallucinogens in our bloodstreams, it was as if nothing could stop us! Now that nightfall hath approacheth, it seems that despite our previous disillusionment/immense relief, we have taken an oath to plot and scheme our way through the situation we face. Just like the noble weasel. And thus, to allude to the ol' hippie tune, "Que sera sera."

We've decided to utilize this break in intelligence training to try and prepare for the arduous mission ahead. Our limited resources have severely lessened our options. The thought that we may not be able to resort to violence is, to say the least, absolutely horrifying. Our need to devise some sort of ruse looms ever more daunting. Kathy is beginning to slip into madness... and Melissa is not far behind.

On the battlefield, it seems that we meet all types of crazies. One superior officer certainly erased all doubts of the aforementioned statement. But like any good soldiers, we kept our cool, swallowed our pride, and faced her head-on, leaving with our dignities virtually in tact. Of course, our mentality continues to plummet into an abyss. The monsoon season kicked in the other day. We had a duty to fulfill, however, and found ourselves braving through it. Clutching onto our very essential sacks of belongings, we managed to charge relentlessly across a vast field, the merciless rain pelting fiercely at our muddied faces and hindering our eyesights. Oh, the trials we suffer. Ah. Days have trudged wearily by in the same manner we do, and even the once rewarding bowls have begun to lose their charm to Kathy. Our missions become more and more hopeless as time ticks away. Slipping... slipping like sand... metaphorical sand. But you don't understand! It's ABSTRACT. IT'S... ART. And now we feel like the visually representative wilting rose... Oh, how time robs it of its pride, dignity, and ... AHHH!

As the days go on, we find it harder and harder to breathe as this feminist boot camp smothers us with estrogen. Luckily, we brought along those trusty testosterone injections. This morning's mission was long, but perhaps the most tolerable. We gathered with the other soldiers and were given sound-enhancing, picture-recording, and light-projecting devices. However, since that has now ended, we return to our usual catatonic states, sluggishly oozing through each painful day... like some sort of oozing slime. No afternoon delights here. No, sir.

At long last our day of freedom has arrived. We bid a graceful farewell to the barren lands of New Mexico, and gleefully look forward to our return to humid Texas. Thinking back, we realize that our fellow soldiers were made the trip enjoyable; it was simply the officers we wished death upon. Each morning we received ground-shaking wake-up calls, were fed slop from a tray, and had to fend off armies of strange, indigenous insects. We would amuse ourselves with poor radio transmitters, colored papers, and desperate attempts to contact the outside world. Towards the end, many soldiers would steal away into the night and rebel against the system by throwing elaborate and noisy celebrations. God only knows what really went on. We did head out once and returned with an amazingly large amount of energy as a strange powdered substance pumped through our veins. The final test brought on much shame and disgrace to our names. We decided not to shy away, though. And now it's over and forgotten. Mostly because we have very poor memories. The trip draws to a close now, and as we each slip off into a peaceful slumber, all we can say is, " WE'RE HOIN' ON A HO PLANE, DON'T KNOW WHEN WE CAN HO AGAIN." Fin.