— Crossfire (@Crossfire) March 4, 2014
I don’t know who Chris Fireback is, but he seems awfully interested in an answer to this question. Seems pretty straightforward to me, although I have to admit, I’m not an expert in this arena.
I’ve never had Vladimir Pudding. Not exactly sure what it is. I assume it’s some kinda European blood pudding, on account of the Dracula.
Also can’t rightly say who this Obama fella is. Maybe someone could explain to me why we should be concerned with foreign presidents. The only president I need to know is the President of the United States of America, thank you very much.
So I may not know anything about this Obama fella, or this particular flavor of pudding… but I know a thing or two about underestimation.
There was me, Tex, Four Eyes and Hodgepodge Lou on the banks of the Musqudumie River. Hodgepodge was a lieutenant in His Majesty’s Royal Shootin’ Gallery, or whatever the Brits called their men in uniform. We called Hodgepodge Lou Hodgepodge Lou because after Tex saved his hide from a night patrol in Musqudumieville, an’ he introduced himself he insisted we call him Left-Ten-Ant Lodge. When we stopped laughin’ we mighta had to take out the Ratzi’s what heard us before we took into laughin’ some more. Hodgepodge Lou was so tight a lady’d have to tap his arse with the flat end of a fork to give him a turn.
We had been there for about 17 days straight. When it wasn’t hailing or raining, the snow was piled up to our knees. Whole ‘nother level of trench warfare, fighting in slushy haily snowbanks. Called it slushwork. Why? ‘Cause it was slushy work, son, pay attention.
So Tex and Four Eyes heard through the banana tree that the Ratzi Commandant Blitzenkappen was holed up about 4 banks over and 2 slush puddles south of our location. We didn’t use feet and miles on this per-ticuler operation because of the metric maps they issued overseas. Said we’d save a nickel for every step we took, after the exchange.
Word ’round the bee’s nest said Blitzenkappen was in charge of Operation Arbeitsgang, which was the Ratzi’s plan to get Churchill with a poisoned custard. Four Eyes headed back to deliver the message, which left me ‘n Tex ‘n Hodgepodge Lou to dig into our igloo and wait.
I guess the one thing that got ol’ Hodgepodge worked up was tainted custard, though, because he muttered something about it being the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard and took off with his rifle, and a shovel bayonet.
Now you know Tex ‘n I would never let a man rush out alone in the middle of the night. So there we were, three of us, shovel guns over our heads, trekkin’ down the Musqudumie in the dead of night, teeth just a-chatterin’.
I don’t want to ruin anyone’s supper with the details, but what Hodgepodge Lou did that night was inhuman. I swear as I’m sittin’ here in this Barcalounger he set a man on fire with his eyes, and shot cold darkness from his hands. Now, don’t get me wrong. It was us or them in the Big One, and I’m glad for every one of them that wasn’t us. But every now and again on a cool winter’s night like this one, I can still hear the screams. It ain’t natural what a man does when he underestimates pudding.