After various chores, which included a trip to heavily tattooed Walmart, I picked up an handheld computing device and dialed LL:
"I say, Colonel, are you ready for the Burning Man muster?" He held back, non-plussed, "I don't want to hang with dirty hippies, even if they are rich." I thought about this and replied, "But you do understand we shall be charging them, as in cavalry charge, starting off at one end of the Playa and ending at another. Command leading, I trust you're part of our forward echelon?"
I needn't have asked, "Of course I'm in, but we need a dog pack to harry the hippies." A "dog pack"? What did this mean, war dogs?!? Yes, a solid 10,000 dogs, brigade strength, unleashed on rich, Bay Area rainbow hippies after drone swarms have done their worst. Picture the snarling fury.
Imagine, drones attack, dogs attack, a ferocious brigade of them, then Cav sweeps in and destroys an enemy in disarray. "Are you part of this, Horse Sarn't Major?" Affirmative. In fairness, it was an easy bet, not that I'm a betting man, go on and visit the monkey, eh?
See you all at the muster,
LSP
PS. Provide your own mounts.
