Editor’s note: Today’s battle field report on the Nashville Boys was actually composed on Thursday night and, therefore, is merely the reporter’s intuitive thoughts on what the day will bring, seeing as how he, yours truly, mistakenly drank some coffer after 8 pm while returning to Nashville from enemy territory in East Tennessee (it was nip and tuck for awhile, but he’s safe, so don’t worry.) As a result, he expects to sleep right up until the first war game starts at 1 pm CDT.
There was a chill in the air that hung over the tents spread across Hawkins Meadow this Friday morning as the Nashville Boys began to stir from their slumber. They awoke to the smell of bacon, eggs, sausage, fat back, and grits being prepared on the camp fires by the camp cooks led by Chef Jason.
As daybreak broke, as it almost always does, General-of-the-Army Timmy Corby, aka, the GGOAT, looked out upon his troops’ tents from his own quarters high up on the wall overlooking Hawkins Meadow. Gen. Corby took great comfort in the fact they were well-rested and well-prepared for the afternoon’s battle that awaited them. Fighting opposing troops from the state of Wright, whereabouts unknown but thought to be somewhere up north where all the other enemy lived, is never easy even when the enemy has far less capable troops than he does. After all, didn’t General Lee think he’d have an easy win at Gettysburg? How’d that turn out?
Having finalized his battle plans the previous night, Gen. Corby was content with his decision to have Master Sergeant J.D. Son-of-Thomp, Texan by birth, to lead the Nashville Boys up the hill to signal the beginnning of the battle.
“There’s none tougher than J.D.,” he thought, “he’d as soon as hit a guy in the head as he would hurl missiles past him or taunt him. I just hope he lays on a lot of sunscreen today, it’s going to be a hot one.”
Although somewhat concerned with the todo that occurred between troopers Connor and Cody on Tuesday, he shook it off as merely two young men just anxious to return to battle. Idle hands are, indeed, the work of the devil. (There is no confirmation yet from @ChesterCopperpot1 that the devil does, in fact exist, but Chester is plowing through the Bible quite religiously searching for proof of the devil’s existence as well as any familial ties he may have to him…or her.)
“Besides,” thought Gen. Corby, “should either Connor or Cody not be ready when I need them, Private Andrew Neigh, an extremely confident young man with nerves of steel and ice water in his veins can toss grenades with the best of them. No worries here.”
Having been assured by his top aide, Col. Brownie, that all his grenade tossers are well-rested and ready to enter the battle when called upon, Gen. Corby settled into his leisurely breakfast.
The General was, however, somewhat concerned of rumors circulating that a rowdy bunch of townies were planning to forcefully occupy the bluffs overlooking Hawkins Meadow to cheer on his troops as they wage battle.
“What if one of the drunken townies falls off the bluff,” he thought, “and plunges to a gruesome death? What if the Miliary Police decided the townies had to go and a drunken riot ensured.”
Clearing his mind of these thoughts, Gen. Corby said aloud, “Alas, I’ll just leave it to my sharpshooters to restore order should things get out of hand.”
He already knew, thanks to his intelligence officer who had his men infiltrate the townies, the suspected ringleaders — a couple of well-known hooligans named Will Iam and Trevor Houlin-Rouge!, code names @WillByrum and @Trevor Hulan, were well known to the town constable from their previous unlawful activities which they often posted on social media. Both had a long record of deviant behavior going as far back as the day they were wee, little lads of about 10, although many doubt the Trevor fellow could have ever been called “wee.” Will, not so much.
Boy, did he have a surprise in store for them should they not be able to maintain order among the rambunctious townies.
Confident that no problems would occur he returned to his breakfast table and consumed an entire box of Wheaties, the one with Kumar Rock-er-like-a-baby on the front of the box. While reading about Kumar on the back side of the box, he fondly recalled other great former Nashville Boys — Jack White, Sonny Bono, Walker Texas Ranger, Lt. Dans; too many to recall them all.
“My goodness,” he audibly mused, “what a lucky guy I am to have known all those boys before they became men.”
To which his special assistant standing nearby, some guy named Alex, whose dog tags read @Anchordown0714, replied, “General, sir, YOU made those men. They should be thinking fondly of you.”
“Yes,” replied the General, “I believe they know they were the sons I never had, sons of many different mothers — or is that, brothers with different mothers?
In any event, Alex, see if any of them have any extra money laying around to give me to help renovate this dump, I’m getting tired of all this other construction all around us. When is the War Department going to spend some money on me and my boys? I’m getting tired of waiting.”
Alex the special aide then scurried off quickly to try and find an answer to the General’s query, seeing as how he has numerous confidential, reliable, and knowledgeable sources inside the War Department’s upper echelon of so-called leaders.
“I know just the person to talk to,” Alex offered, “maybe I’ll even be able to get that weekend pass I’ve been waiting for, provided she’s not off selling cars again — whatever the hell a car is. Fetch my horse, Private, I’m on a mission, and by God, I will not stop until I have an answer!”
Meanwhile, the Nashville Boys set off to don their battle uniforms, with a great deal of excitement among them wondering what uniform they would wear that day.
There was a chill in the air that hung over the tents spread across Hawkins Meadow this Friday morning as the Nashville Boys began to stir from their slumber. They awoke to the smell of bacon, eggs, sausage, fat back, and grits being prepared on the camp fires by the camp cooks led by Chef Jason.
As daybreak broke, as it almost always does, General-of-the-Army Timmy Corby, aka, the GGOAT, looked out upon his troops’ tents from his own quarters high up on the wall overlooking Hawkins Meadow. Gen. Corby took great comfort in the fact they were well-rested and well-prepared for the afternoon’s battle that awaited them. Fighting opposing troops from the state of Wright, whereabouts unknown but thought to be somewhere up north where all the other enemy lived, is never easy even when the enemy has far less capable troops than he does. After all, didn’t General Lee think he’d have an easy win at Gettysburg? How’d that turn out?
Having finalized his battle plans the previous night, Gen. Corby was content with his decision to have Master Sergeant J.D. Son-of-Thomp, Texan by birth, to lead the Nashville Boys up the hill to signal the beginnning of the battle.
“There’s none tougher than J.D.,” he thought, “he’d as soon as hit a guy in the head as he would hurl missiles past him or taunt him. I just hope he lays on a lot of sunscreen today, it’s going to be a hot one.”
Although somewhat concerned with the todo that occurred between troopers Connor and Cody on Tuesday, he shook it off as merely two young men just anxious to return to battle. Idle hands are, indeed, the work of the devil. (There is no confirmation yet from @ChesterCopperpot1 that the devil does, in fact exist, but Chester is plowing through the Bible quite religiously searching for proof of the devil’s existence as well as any familial ties he may have to him…or her.)
“Besides,” thought Gen. Corby, “should either Connor or Cody not be ready when I need them, Private Andrew Neigh, an extremely confident young man with nerves of steel and ice water in his veins can toss grenades with the best of them. No worries here.”
Having been assured by his top aide, Col. Brownie, that all his grenade tossers are well-rested and ready to enter the battle when called upon, Gen. Corby settled into his leisurely breakfast.
The General was, however, somewhat concerned of rumors circulating that a rowdy bunch of townies were planning to forcefully occupy the bluffs overlooking Hawkins Meadow to cheer on his troops as they wage battle.
“What if one of the drunken townies falls off the bluff,” he thought, “and plunges to a gruesome death? What if the Miliary Police decided the townies had to go and a drunken riot ensured.”
Clearing his mind of these thoughts, Gen. Corby said aloud, “Alas, I’ll just leave it to my sharpshooters to restore order should things get out of hand.”
He already knew, thanks to his intelligence officer who had his men infiltrate the townies, the suspected ringleaders — a couple of well-known hooligans named Will Iam and Trevor Houlin-Rouge!, code names @WillByrum and @Trevor Hulan, were well known to the town constable from their previous unlawful activities which they often posted on social media. Both had a long record of deviant behavior going as far back as the day they were wee, little lads of about 10, although many doubt the Trevor fellow could have ever been called “wee.” Will, not so much.
Boy, did he have a surprise in store for them should they not be able to maintain order among the rambunctious townies.
Confident that no problems would occur he returned to his breakfast table and consumed an entire box of Wheaties, the one with Kumar Rock-er-like-a-baby on the front of the box. While reading about Kumar on the back side of the box, he fondly recalled other great former Nashville Boys — Jack White, Sonny Bono, Walker Texas Ranger, Lt. Dans; too many to recall them all.
“My goodness,” he audibly mused, “what a lucky guy I am to have known all those boys before they became men.”
To which his special assistant standing nearby, some guy named Alex, whose dog tags read @Anchordown0714, replied, “General, sir, YOU made those men. They should be thinking fondly of you.”
“Yes,” replied the General, “I believe they know they were the sons I never had, sons of many different mothers — or is that, brothers with different mothers?
In any event, Alex, see if any of them have any extra money laying around to give me to help renovate this dump, I’m getting tired of all this other construction all around us. When is the War Department going to spend some money on me and my boys? I’m getting tired of waiting.”
Alex the special aide then scurried off quickly to try and find an answer to the General’s query, seeing as how he has numerous confidential, reliable, and knowledgeable sources inside the War Department’s upper echelon of so-called leaders.
“I know just the person to talk to,” Alex offered, “maybe I’ll even be able to get that weekend pass I’ve been waiting for, provided she’s not off selling cars again — whatever the hell a car is. Fetch my horse, Private, I’m on a mission, and by God, I will not stop until I have an answer!”
Meanwhile, the Nashville Boys set off to don their battle uniforms, with a great deal of excitement among them wondering what uniform they would wear that day.
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