The other day I was eating evening chow at the DFAC when I saw one of my body compositionally challenged Marines approach the dessert bar. Ice cream bowl in hand, he leaned forward in anticipation, eyes wide with joy as he took his place in line.
Without thought, my voice boomed across the chow hall,
“Hey stud! Maybe for you, not so much with the ice cream, ya’ think?”
He scrunched his shoulders forward and motioned with his fingers as if to ask, “Just a little bit 1stSgt, just a little bit? Please?”
Baring my fangs not unlike a wild striped hyena, I let him know that he could eat all the ice cream he wanted, but he would be PTing with me first thing in the morning.
Gutbag immediately slapped the empty bowl on the counter and walked away from the dessert bar without a backward glance.
Apparently, pain makes a more lasting impact than mint chocolate chip.
America’s 1st Sgt.