How I Twisted My Ankle
(An epic story to rival Cronan's classic "Somebody Stole My Wallet")
(Brendan Dillon, 6/22/1999)
TUZLA, BOSNIA: Despite all attempts to hide my whereabouts from the French and Canadian agents who would stop at nothing to see the World Oligarchy's downfall, I have been found out at my remote Army base in Bosnia. A Captain in the Canadian Air Force, who will remain unnamed at this time, is also stationed at this NATO camp. This supposed pilot has been monitoring me for three months and has directed several operations against me, including two incidents of the Pen and Sock Conspiracy, but none so insidious as what has happened yesterday morning. This Canadian officer attempted a full-scale direct assassination. Armed with a Canadian-issue 9mm pistol, the captain hid in a vehicle maintenance bay known in the Army as "third shop" and fired as I ran past in a physical training formation. Fortunately, I was able to dodge in mid-sprint using a lightning-fast tactic only a General Purpose God can achieve. Though I was able to move out of the path of the bullet, my foot caught the ground at an angle in the process, twisting the hell out of my ankle. The Canadian fled as I fell on the road, and was long gone before I could even think about pursuit. Despite my searches to find this evil officer, I have developed a considerable limp and am having difficulty catching him at the moment. I will be fine in a day or two, but that gives him plenty of time to avoid my vengeance in a typically evil Canadian way. I can only hope he doesn't steal any more of my black socks because, frankly, they're expensive as hell over here.