Russian Roulette

Nation,

Pulsar and I have much to inform you of, it has been one crazy fucking week.

Lets begin.

The hood has been sporadic this week, keeping us on our toes, scrambling in a frenzy. Indeed, she has been one crazy emotional wrecking ball. Stay on your heels my friends, or you could be next. The week opened up in a shit storm when the hood called us intoxicated and upset. It seems everyone knew what Pulsar and I had discussed weeks before; She was still stuck on the A-1 Carbine. Understandable. It was after all the weapon of choice for her for a long time. Sure, the ammo would occasionally jam, and sometimes when the hood was pinned down in the line of fire and needed the Carbine to perform, it would fail. "Once" she told me " I was at target practice and the carbine still couldnt hit it like i needed it to". Nation, this is simply tragic.

Anyways, the hood was intoxicated and she had been wounded. She explained to us that she had been playing Russian Roulette at a bar with some of the local soldiers and their cheap south asian hookers. She was extremely wounded and needed medical evac, ASAP. Pulsar and I told her to stand her ground and we rallied the Rocket. In no time we were though, but good god, was she deeply wounded. It was painful to our ears to hear her pain. We were also very confused, how did this happen? She looked deep into my eyes and gazed longly at Pulsars bulging crotch and told us, " I have been playing Russian Roulette with the Beretta"

For those of you who dont know what Russian Roulette is, let me explain. Its the process of holding a Beretta toward your head in attempts to solve your problems. You have a 50.01% chance to survive when playing alone. The hood, in an attempt to solve her problems, her distress, turned to this. The result was horrible.

We took the hood back to the medical facility and Pulsar stripped her down and attempted to give her surgery. It appeared the hood had taken a bullet directly in the left ass cheek and her breast, or so Pulsar thought. I also released the Hood had lice, as her head was apparently very itchy and needed constant scratching.

It was a long night, we fought the asians off untill 730 in the morning, when I lit enough asians on fire for Pulsar to stumble into his car and get Hoodhood to the yellow submarine for evac out of the hot zone.

Now, three days later, we scour the city for the person responsible for attacking our hood. This creature has an inflated nose, a deceptive body, an incredibly annoying voice, and is known by the codename "butterface".

Here is her mug shot.

Keep your eyes open nation, keep your eyes open.

This is the Box,

Saying so long island of Cytherea, so long.

State Of my missile: shriveled and cold

Pinned down in the foxhole

General Pulsar and I wanted to test out our new prototype Z-force night vision nudey goggles on the specimen, M. HoodHood. Fearing that the specimen would detect us in our normal gear, we reverted back to our pre-training state, nudiness.

***Report***

The Specimen rejected our nudiness. We tried to appease her by clapping our genitalia in a rythmic song to woo her with music. No luck.

Pulsar the great and I are stubborn and will try other methods.

He plans to use his missile and twirl in like a helicopter in all his glory and brillance.

GOD SPEED.

Current state of my missile: Floppy.

BeRetta!

1:44pm Hoodhood comes over stating that she is fine.

But we all know what that means, she isnt totally not fine.

Unless of course you mean she is fine, which of course, she is fine. Fine the acronym though. What are you talking about mystery man blogger boy genius? Ah, let me explain you Yoo Hoo's.

F stands for Frantic
I stands for Insecure
N stands for Neurotic
E stands for Emotional

Hoodhood is "fine" because the Beretta struck again. The Beretta is a 9mm pistol that Hoodhood has been carry for some time. It is her replacement firearm after she shed the A-1 carbine, which was far to immature and didnt have enough ammo to go long periods of time in her desert crevices. Although I warned my dearest hoodhood that the Beretta wasnt a practical solution to her intense combat in the field of love, she denied my intelligent advice.

Now hoodhood lays down in the medical informatory of the house of cock in bulls, waiting for her sorrows to be mending and her wounds to be healed. Hang tightly my dearest hoodhood, generals Pulsar and Box will guide you through this difficult journey. One day you will be able to shake the war ravaged field of love that is the Burg.

This transmission was brought to you by General Box.

Military time : 2152 hours.
State of my missile: Hard.

General Box, out.