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Mumbletypeg was his favorite soda pop, and he drank it like there was no tomorrow. Tomorrow, in fact, never came. When they first discovered that it contained high levels of Ultram(TM) they immediately purchased the nearest shipment of high grade alkali tongue depressors and used them to test for tomato sauce. And so first the president, then a 10th level vice president, concentrated on rousing the generals from their private bunker where they were playing D&D with gusto.
Red alerts were sounded. Red sounds were alerted. Alert sounds were red. Were the Reds alerted by our sounds?
Unmoved, Hank stood still. Still, Hank stood unmoved. Suddenly, he somersaulted over one of the tongue depressors. A one-man army, he hated tongue-depressors - they were surrounding him like confetti and they reeked of tomato sauce.
Mumbletypeg was the next best thing to trashing tongue depressors, his mouth puckered in anticipation. It was a good day to die. Too bad the sub wasn't close by. If it had been, Hank would have acted faster. As it was, he whipped out his Mumbletypeg, swallowed two Ultrum gel caps and washed them down. Much better! Now he blew on his magic 20-sided die and hoped to hell that the generals'd let him sleep in the bunker of Luv [roll] - a nine!
Climbing into the cockpit, he went off half-cocked into the wormhole, exclaiming cockily "Pity the other half" and "give me libertines, or give me the tiny one on the left ist saltines!"
