If you live in the barracks anywhere (but especially Hawaii), it’s late at night, and you’re doing some heavy duty cleaning— I’m talking moving your furniture around and it’s scraping along the floor, banging on whatever the fuck (??) to empty something out or whatever— holy motherfucking shit.

You actual piece of shit. You pile of dog shit lower than satan’s ball sack.

You absolute insufferable collection of cells worth less than a zygote. You complete colony fat roll yeast.

Save that shit for the weekend or I’m going to find you and punt your insomniac ass across the damn installation and you’ll land in the post commander’s living room. I can hear you past my fucking ear plugs and my work day starts earlier than yours.

And if you think “oh lmao is it me”

Fuck yeah it’s you. Prepare your ass for the beating I’m about to serve you.

And lemme get uhhhh a #4 combo, xl shake, thanks