Sgt. Salty and the Misfits - Chapter 6: The Minivan and the Morality of Debt
Salty here, and if you’d told me a week ago I’d be standing at the foot of a decommissioned Saturn V rocket arguing about nap schedules, I’d have had you court-martialed for tactical lunacy. Yet, here we are. The Saturn V was glorious. It dominated the suburban skyline, making the neighbours solar panels look like tiny, sad badges of failed environmentalism. We had the interior of the Command Module gutted and fitted with a noise-dampening, anti-gravity baby cradle for Agent Number Seven. Harry, Dick, and Tom claimed the vast second stage as their private jungle gym/structural testing facility, and the triplets were using the highly sensitive escape rocket cluster as a jungle gym swing set. For 36 hours, we were untouchable. We had achieved Escape Velocity from Sanity . But then, the high command struck back, not with enemy fire, but with something far more terrifying: a budget meeting . The Audit of Apocalypse The call came directly from Procurement, cutting through the general...