If feels like you've been in this fire fight for hours. Your rifle isn't cutting it, your bullets don't seem to be stopping them. They are still shooting back. The mess hall is going to be closing soon, and an MRE isn't going to cut it today. That's when you make the decision to end it quick. You reach down to your vest and pull out the game changer. An M-67 that you sarcastically wrote "Smile; Wait for flash" on. With your most 80s movie style grunt you can muster you pull the pin. No turning back now.
That one day of basic training when you qualified with a grenade flashing through your mind, a smile cracking your face. Arm reared back, your drill sergeant would be grinning at the perfect form. In one quick motion you bring it forward, powerfully. As you feel the steel leave your hand that's when you knew the battle had changed, in your favor. You were going to win this one. The spoon flying off you watch the 14 ounces of Fuck You fly right where you wanted it to go, precisely placed to inflict as much damage as possible. The Composition B didn't care where it was going, it only had a job to do. And wherever it landed that was where no lives mattered anymore.
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