Cheese Pizza . CP <| sep |> Scot ? Voting for Out ? Must be something out of the stuff of legends . <| sep |> Sent a request , my ign is Alfred . Thanks for helping <| sep |> Linking to vox ? Holy shit gtfo <| sep |> Nice ! Never heard of them . Will check it out . Thanks . <| sep |> Do you think the treaty needs to be renegotiated or fine like it is ? <| sep |> Those ankles . Don ' t skip leg day Chief ! <| sep |> Dinkleberg Galebreak Windshrine . <| sep |> Just watch TV . <| sep |> Sweat runs down my forehead , as I enter my forty ninth day in the trenches . My helmet is too heavy . You ' d think that , by now , they would have figured out how to make them lighter . It digs into my forehead , and I imagine another trench there , filled with dead skin and bacteria , waging a miniwar . And the smell , oh , the smell the rank stench of urine and feces , as men piss the gates of heaven , and shit the face of God , and fall down into their own emissions , bidding adieu , goodbye , to these foul trenches at long last . I feel Ramsay jerk violently to my left , spasming and contorting , and I know he ' s gone down . I don ' t look . I can ' t look . There ' s no point . I need to stay focused . Any moment now , I ' ll be up . Any moment now , I ' ll hear the Captain ' s voice , screaming in my ear , Jones , you ' re up , you son of a bitch , get up , get up , and go , hard as you can . And , soon enough , it comes , the call to action . I fling myself into it , fingers clawed , muscles tense , stomach clenched tight with nerves and fear and the knowledge that it ' s what I have to do to stay in the game . Nineteen seconds , and I ' m done . For some people it ' s the feet , or the armpits , or that bit of neck behind the ear . For me , it ' s the stomach , and I lose it completely as the attack bursts right through me and I scream and gasp for breath , legs kicking out before me and I ' m done . I take my helmet off , clip the wires off my gloves , and reach under my fatigues to peel the gelpads from my skin . Stomach ? asks Ramsay , to my left , with sympathy , as he passes me a bottle of water . Always , I say , as I gulp it down , Worst place to be ticklish . It ' s basically impossible to cover and defend . You ' re supposed to tense your core , man , he says , Keep it tense . I know that , I say , Jesus , you think I don ' t know that ? Come on , he says , standing , Let ' s go . Our watch is over , anyway . At least you didn ' t pee yourself laughing . Chang had to go shower , so he ' ll be waiting for us in the mess hall . We live to fight another day . Captain ' s going to make me do a hundred minutes of planks and ab crunches , I say , I don ' t see how this is living . It is 2063 , why the fuck are we in trenches ? We leave the trenches , then , the ninetylevel facility of row after row of closepacked virtual reality stations , filled with the stinking cries of humanity as we ticklefight through the Third Virt War . The Russians have won the first two . They just know where to keep putin ' their fingers . We won ' t give up , though . We ' ll trump them , somehow , someday .