Challenge One

Challenge One

It was the perfect little island. Everything around it was in a horrid chaos based on war. The island however, looked completely perfect.

You looked down at it. All the tents and temporary shelters in perfect order. All the rows aligned. The command centres in the right place. The docks in perfect spots to receive ships during the high tides. The air strips were in perfect alignment.

This was Perfecto Island. It likely had some other name--something terribly dull and arbitrary. This was the one spot that Grosprint would find the life he enjoyed.

Grosprint got off the plane, and showed his papers. They were completely in order. However, procedure said that this delightful person could not say for certain if the papers are in order.

"Who can?" Grosprint asked.

"My CO."

"Then lets go"


The repugnant soldier stood there. His face a perfect chiseled out carving of what our troops were about. This horrid uniform had no major issues with it what so ever. Nothing in any way was the matter. This just ticked Grosprint off entirely. There was nothing that was physically present to complain about and truly hate, save the lack of physical things to complain about. Grosprint thought long and hard about why and how he should hate Private Perfect here, for his complete lack of completely obvious things as to hate.

"Why not, where is he?"

"In his tent, as he should be."

"Then lets go."

"We cannot, you have not been cleared to enter the island."

Grosprint just stood there. Wishing some really awful atrocity to occur not only to Private Perfect, watcher of Perfecto Island. But also to every one he loved and cared about. Save his parents. No, his parents would only be spared so as to watch the horrid suffering that their kids and all they cared for went through. The parents completely unable to stop this, would be hit the worse.

Grosprint silently stood there, wishing every horrid monstrousity to leap out of no where to kill this--"moo."

Grosprint turns to see this first monstrousity. It was large and dumb. A bumbling creature of sorts. The kind bred to follow specific orders of the people who will eat it. It chewed its cud. The sort of creature that people loved to eat because of how ugly it looked. It amazed Grosprint that several thousand years ago, somebody, somewhere, made the statement, for the first time, "I am going to pull these things down here, and drink whatever comes out."

It was the first monstrousity that Grosprint had ever summoned, so he studied it closely.

The cow walks just by Private Perfect. Unhindered by the Perfecto Island gate keeper.

Grosprint takes a cue and also follows.

"Go no further."

"I am with the cow."


"The cow did not have any papers."

"That is a cow. Cows do not use papers."

"Why do I need them."

"Because, I am not ready to stop a cow entering. They can get pretty dangerous."

"So can I. If you don't want to stop me, can I go by."

"If you try, I will call the MPs and put you in the stockade."

"You did not do that with the cow."

"It is a cow."

"And I have papers."

"Sir, I suggest you back away."

Grosprint backs away a bit. Private Perfect writes a small note into a small book with a small pencil. Probably meant for people with small minds containing small thoughts that fit their small vision.

For general safety reasons it was the small visioned people with small thoughts inside small minds, who made use of small notes, small books and small pencils, who are in charge of this campaign. It was the only reason that Perfecto Island was so bloody perfect.

So perfect that Grosprint was already wanting to ask for leave.

The CO steps out of the tent. Grosprint starts screaming, "hey! yoohoo!"

Commander Orpince was a busy man. He had just spent his time a pile of busy work. Busy stacks of busy work, on a busily arrange desk. He was making a busy line to the messhall to eat some busy food. So as to return to the rest of his busy day.

Commander Orpince saw a man, in a new uniform waving him over. He was too busy for this, however, being the kind of man that loved being busy. He weighted the options here. If he went to the mess hall, he'd be completely on schedule. However, if he went to the new soldier, he would have more work, to make him busier, but get behind schedule.

Orpince had a mental quandary that required some deep thought. He had mostly been so busy, with the busy work, as he did not want to do any real work. His complete disdain for real work was what lead him, to try to get as much busy work as he could. He was so overloaded with busy work, that nobody ever throught to give him real work ever after that.

"I don't think he sees me."

"The CO is a very busy man."

Orpince felt a slight smile hit his face. Felt really good in his busily waxed mustache. He spent many an hour in a day, making certain this mustache was perfect--that it completely got him out of any real work. He was too busy. People knew it.

Orpince went to the Private--no idea what his name was. Learning names was real work--and not interesting. He then sees the new soldier. "What is all this then?"

"Sir, new recruit here to enter the island sir."

"Only one?"

The new recruit offers his orders, "Sir, I was transfered here, because you needed a mess hall sergeant, sir."

Orpince looked at the papers. It was a good thing, this made him look really good and busy for when he went to the mess hall. Yes, today was a good day to dine.

The End

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