Gather ‘round the fire and let uncle T.J. tell you a story. It all happened back in 1643 and I was at the tender age of 40… or so I thought. I was called into Vietnam by Charlie himself. He said, “Now listen carefully, I need you to be at base by 0 five hundred hours at noon. Good luck, my angels.” So we went all out, we dressed in all camouflage and sprayed gasoline on our forehead as a good luck charm and so that we could be used as a human torch if it became necessary. My buddy, Crazy Larrry was sitting there enjoying a cup of coffee which I had lased with LSD. He sat there calmly, twitched a little, and then went back to reading his paper. He’s dead now. So we went to the top of the mountain and took our positions. I was told to climb the clock tower and keep a look out. They said something about me being a decoy, but I had never flown before, so I just thought they were talking nonsense. I had no problem climbing the clock tower quickly because I had climbed many a clock tower in my day. Most of the times I can’t remember, though, cause I was piss drunk and having a grand ole time. I stayed up there for about three or four days and when I came down, all of my buddies were gone. I found some blood and dog tags with their names on it and figured they’d killed whoever they were trying to kill and laid their dog tags there as some commemoration thing. I went home and slept for about two seconds until I heard we had lost the war. There was a big parade going on outside because of out victory and I yelled “fuck off, I’m trying to sleep.” When the parade wouldn’t stop I pulled out my grenade launcher, pointed it at the head float and, to make a long story short… Gather ‘round the fire and let uncle T.J. tell you a story.