Dearest Mother—
I wish not to wake you in the still of night, as I load my chattels onto the carriage.
Pvt. Rodgers flees the Bay of Green as he hears the rumblings of my caravan. I must defend the Fields of Soldiers before they kneel to the King in the North.
Write often.
—JF
Are you there, no one?
It’s me, faceless drone
Remember, you’re not alone: All our dreams die tomorrow regardless of who we are or what we believe, as there is no good and there is no justice.
There is only the sweet warm embrace of death.
Please continue to enjoy Arby’s
Citizens—
The Secretary of State has furnished three G.I. garments in memoriam of obtaining 10,000 patrons of the tabloid.
I shall award these garments and a handwritten letter to individuals who re-circulate and support the tabloid post or reply to me.
With gratitude.
—MT
Imagine if you were in the military and one of your guys just got 360 no-scoped off a balcony while you're simultaneously being hit with a throwing knife from half a mile away