nsacpi
Expects Yuge Games
My Dearest Eleanor,
I write to you from the smoldering edge of a city I once thought would yield easily to order, only to find that Chicago is more obstinate than any garrison I have known. The men, weary from endless patrols and fruitless attempts to corral the so-called insurgents, have discovered a haven of comfort — a pizzeria in the West Loop, reputed for its deep-dish.
At first, discipline held. I instructed them to take only sustenance, and they complied… for two nights. Now I fear the walls of our regimented conduct are crumbling faster than the crust of a forgotten calzone. Some have pilfered extra slices. Others, in whispers, plan raids upon neighboring bakeries. I do not know whether to admonish them or to join in their revelry.
And yet, in this chaos, there is a strange camaraderie. Even Sergeant O’Hara, who once threatened to court-martial a man for chewing gum too loudly, was observed last night dancing a jig outside the pizzeria, humming a tune I did not recognize but suspect to be from a TikTok video.
Eleanor, I fear that the siege may be less a military operation and more a festival of indulgence. Pray for me, for I do not know whether to march my men into action or to protect the last remaining slices of mozzarella.
Yours, precariously,
Captain Harold Whitmore
I write to you from the smoldering edge of a city I once thought would yield easily to order, only to find that Chicago is more obstinate than any garrison I have known. The men, weary from endless patrols and fruitless attempts to corral the so-called insurgents, have discovered a haven of comfort — a pizzeria in the West Loop, reputed for its deep-dish.
At first, discipline held. I instructed them to take only sustenance, and they complied… for two nights. Now I fear the walls of our regimented conduct are crumbling faster than the crust of a forgotten calzone. Some have pilfered extra slices. Others, in whispers, plan raids upon neighboring bakeries. I do not know whether to admonish them or to join in their revelry.
And yet, in this chaos, there is a strange camaraderie. Even Sergeant O’Hara, who once threatened to court-martial a man for chewing gum too loudly, was observed last night dancing a jig outside the pizzeria, humming a tune I did not recognize but suspect to be from a TikTok video.
Eleanor, I fear that the siege may be less a military operation and more a festival of indulgence. Pray for me, for I do not know whether to march my men into action or to protect the last remaining slices of mozzarella.
Yours, precariously,
Captain Harold Whitmore