My children are playing war (not the card game, the one where they run around shooting each other). I interrupted them for lunch, so our lunchtime conversation went like this:
M: I declare a cease-fire during lunch!
N: Thanks for the MREs, Cook.
S: Where did you get this steak?
M: Leftover from Lone Star before it got bombed.
N: Now they're using that land to make military vehicles.
M: The next time you use your fingers instead of your fork, you'll be dishonorably discharged.
[A few minutes later, I busted him with his fingers in the food again. He looked at me guiltily.]
M: You, sir, are dishonorably discharged. Leave the mess hall immediately.
N: I reject that.
S: You can't reject the drill sergeant's orders!
N: She's not the drill sergeant. She's just a cook. [I scowled at him.] Well, I mean that's her super power. She can cook. Mine is x-ray vision and infrared night vision.
S: Mine is talking on my cell phone.
M (to N): Dishonorably discharged!
N: Ok then. I'll just go join the enemy forces.
M: They'll discharge you too if you eat like a pig.
N: Then I'll just go work for Caterpillar.
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