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The Raid

The Raid

The commander knew that his men were tired, but he also knew night was the best time to run such an operation.   The darkness cloaked them as they scaled the side of the house.   Summer gave them an opportunity that they wouldn't have had in winter; the window was open.  The young corporal slit the screen just enough that they could squeeze through.  

The area was a complete mess.  Pots and pans littered about, plates and silverware in the sink.  This might have been why the brat was standing in the corner, awaiting his sentence, but it gave the secret band of soldiers a place to hide as they looked for the WADs.  

The place was full of them: spatula's, small cutting boards, and the dreaded wooden spoon.

The weapons were large and heavy looking, the commander wondered if he'd brought enough men.     When word first came that there was a stock pile of Weapons of Ass Destruction, otherwise known as WADs,  the commander had gathered the best of the best of his troops.  They specialized in helping to save the poor helpless asses of Brats worldwide  

Already his men had set up a method of carrying these weapons out.   The men had lined up and were moving the weapons out the window like a conveyor belt system.

By the time the commander heard the footsteps of the Top; all but one lone wooden spoon had been carried out the window.     "We gotta go.  Come on, lads, we've done what we could," the commander whispered to his men.  

"Sir, what about that one?" his second in command asked, gesturing to the one lone spoon.  

The commander knew his second in command was eager to learn and to save all the innocent (and not so innocent) asses, but he still had a lot to learn.  "Boy, that one will be left behind."  

Gathering up his courage, the second in command asked, "but why, sir?  That one looks painful?"  

With a wink, the commander answered, "with the right mind set, this particular brat LIKES that one."

The commander laughed when the blush that signaled the second in command understood, and he clapped his hand on the soldier's shoulder.  "Come on, boy.  Let's get back to camp and I'll show you."

Just in the nick of time, the commander was the last of his men to slip out the window.  As they gathered up the discarded weapons, the commander heard through the open window.     "Brat?  This kitchen is such a mess! I can't find the spatula!"

Faintly the soldiers heard the Brat's answering reply, "I bet it was the elves."


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