by Miles Rost

“Okay men, Roll Call.”

“Childers.”

“Here.”

“Mao.”

“Yo.”

“Kurabati.”

“Here!”

“Jacobsen.”

“Here!”

“Harlan.”

“Whaddya want?”

“Cabrini.”

“Yeah?”

“Stewart.”

“Too early!”

The man checked the list once more, checked everything off.

“Alright. Here’s what we got. You’ve got your weapons in front of you. You have two hours to finish your assignment, as I briefed you yesterday. You know what to do, and you know how it must be done. If this fails and the commander is not happy, I will make sure each and every one of you is put on KP for the rest of your natural lives in this organization. Any questions? Stewart!”

Stewart lowered his hand.

“Can we see the target’s picture one more time?”

The captain looked at them, and looked back at the covered picture on the wall. He walked over and uncovered it.

Upon the revelation of the picture, there was a collective squeak from each of the men, and then laughter.

There was a picture of Hello Kitty holding onto a Rifle.

The captain furrowed his brow and proceeded to bark at his charges.

“The commander’s daughter is NOT going to be happy with you unless you give her what she wants. And she wants a birthday cake, with a picture of Hello Kitty holding a damn rifle on it! So you’re going to give it to her, or by God and the stars he holds, you will all be wishing it WAS Hello Kitty tearing you a new asshole!”

All of the men stood serious, hands behind their backs, whisks and spatulas at the ready.

“Get cookin’! That’s an order!”

The captain proceeded out of the room.

All the guys looked at each other, looked down at the spatulas…and proceeded to double over with laughter. Until the voice of the captain bellowed from down the hallway.

“I HEARD THAT!”