Morning Report, 25 August 2003, 0645 or so MDT.

Okay, Colonel. Almost half of the troops are assembled, and nearly everyone remembered to bring their firelocks. Some even remembered to bring powder and shot, but I had it taken away until they sober up. They didn't go home after being dismissed last night, but instead spent the night playing "Go Fish" and drinking Scotch-and-root-beer with various various Fallen Women In Low Dives (I considered assembling a firing squad for the insult to whisky, but using their own powder and ball to execute them seemed a bit declasse, so I decided to let their hangovers be their punishment).

Corporal Simpkins forgot his pants again. Two people, Miguel Machismo and Trixie "Boom-Boom" Jones, are on sick call for some sort of "burning when they go pee-pee," and I hope that this does not presage an epedemic.

A couple more folks wandered in a few minutes ago, but one of them went back home to get her purse.

Your orders have been received and at the moment we are issuing hand grenades to the troops.

Oops, I'd better go see what that big boom was. Later, dude.