The Inimitable PERLBot
The squadron waited in the dairy's redolent darkness, the only sound
their quiet breathing. The men knew their mission, even if it was odd,
and the mission demanded silence. But they were uneasy. Finally, Sergeant
Francis, his gun still at the ready, shifted his weight and spoke.
"Explain this to me again, Lieutenant? We've been parachuted into
Sonoma to kill a couple of cheesemakers?" The lieutenant's voice rang out
in reply. "That's right, soldier. First, it was fluoridated water. Now
the attack is more widespread, more insidious. For two hundred years,
America has been strong, eating meat and potatoes. The Communists
couldn't beat us through a frontal assault, so they got smarter. They
enlisted hippies to feed people whole grains. Celebrity chefs to feed us
duck comfit. Italians to feed us Slow Food, sissified ham and three
hundred dollar a pound truffles. Atheist Californians to give us free
range chickens and organic bok choi. And this! A dairy run by lesbians --"
"They're not lesbians," noted Corporal Jackson, always a stickler
for detail. "On the Internet it said they were a women's collective."
"That's pretty obvious code, Corporal, and don't interrupt. A lesbian
dairy producing organic sheep's milk chevre to sap the will of
the American people! Grain-fed beef and government cheese are what made
us regular and strong! Our nation's mighty bowels have been under twenty
years of assault by the Godless whims of Californians and Democrats!
Every time you change channels to the Food Network, you're changing
channels to Communism! The military-industrial-dairy complex won't go
without a fight, and here's where they decided to draw the line. And
after this dairy, we move on." His words were coming faster now. "There's
a place over in Russian River that makes a St. Andre. Then we'll sweep
down to San Francisco, then over to Wisconsin, then--"
A shot rang out. The lieutenant flew backwards. The squadron drew
their guns and whirled to face Devereaux, the quiet marksman from Baton
Rouge. His voice was a harsh whisper. "First they'd take out the yuppie
cheesemakers, but then they'd start coming after the farms. Then the
microbrews. The only way they can keep us eating what they want is to
take our options away from us! The honest food, the real ice cream and
the softshelled crabs and the carnitas and..." He trailed off, then resumed,
his voice shaking. "The poor boys and the catfish and the gumbo. You
know, these women make good cheese. Have you ever -tasted- the stuff?
Radical politics or not, it's damn good!" He paused, imagining his court
martial, the coming years of prison food, unrelenting, without a bowl of
jambalaya or a Cuban sandwich to end the monotony. But it had to be done,
for the good of the country. He shook his head mournfully and said, as
much to himself as to the rest of the squad, "Extremism in the defense of
Libber cheese is no vice."
A truly astounding series of puns.
Adam Cooper
" To those who dared to sayAll further information is still classified. I bid you a Fond(a)due.
That no one does it better
From the Jack of Monterey
To Vermont or Wisconsin Cheddar
For those who stood as one
Mindful of their avowals
To seek out all Mascarpon
And protect Our Nation's Mighty Bowels"
Dinoj Surendran
Most items in the U.S. Army serve multiple purposes. Jerrycans were
used as bricks in World War Two, cooking pot lids as ping pong bats in
Vietnam, rubbers as anti-sand filters for gun barrels in the Gulf
Wars, and tin hats as pretty much anything since time immemorial. This
is usually attributed to the ingenuity of soldiers. However, there may be
more to this, as recently declassified documents describe a DARPA project
that tried to make every piece of standard army issue serve at least
three distinct purposes.
Project Leatherman was led by Colonel Damyu J. Mudpuddle, a former
physics professor, janitor and vacuum salesman (in that order) with a
peculiar talent for filling gaps where no-one knew there were
gaps. Often, there were indeed gaps, which is why some viewed
Mudpuddle as God, or at least the Pope. However, there were not always
gaps, which is why most viewed him (Mudpuddle, not the Pope) as a
moron. In hindsight, it is clear that the military had yet to come to
grips with the notion that failure is part of the creative process,
and just as unclear how the project lasted as long as it did.
The project produced two notable products in its three month
lifespan. The first was the Zoppi lighter. This was a non-toxic liquid
that, when poured on a backpack, made it lighter. Unfortunately, this
was because it made a hole in the bottom of the backpack. It
eventually earned a name among soldiers as The Liquid Can Opener and
the only thing that would be relied upon to destroy such incriminating
evidence as memos, litter and used anti-sand filters.
The second product was the cheeseblock. This had a number of uses, 96
at last count. Most were what any sensible person would do with a
brick-shaped object, such as throwing it at enemy troops when the ammo
gave out, dropping it on rural huts, or breaking windows in jewellery
stores during invasions. It could float, and many a life was saved by
a cheeseblock raft. The fact that its smell kept sharks away didn't
hurt, unless your sense of smell was actually working at the
time. Cheeseblock had a high albedo, making it an excellent reflector
at night. Several soldiers, desperate to get injured so they could go
home early, used it to provide an easier target for the enemy to
hit. As it was bullet proof and thus very useful as a shield in trench
warfare, it could hardly be banned.
Best of all, in the words of an obscure technical report, cheeseblock
"becomes edible, with a unique, cheese-like flavor, when heated". The
appendix of the report goes on to qualify these terms. 'Edible' means
that lab rats forcefed with the stuff did not throw up (more than half
their body weight) or die (within 24 hours). 'Heated' means 'heated
for 37 hours at 370 degrees Farenheit'. 'Unique' means what it says,
fortunately.
Thanks to a clerical error, samples of cheeseblock made their way to
the general public, sans instructions. Records of the public response
to this remain classified, though it is unlikely that our nation's
mighty bowels were ever tested, owing to our nation's not-so-mighty
teeth.
(533 words, disqualified.)