Simmons yanked the sheets off of Private Grif’s bed. “Get up your lazy ass!”
Grif whined, “Five more minutes…”
“Agh. You’re so lazy!” Simmons grunted. “Sarge is calling a meeting at 1600. So get moving.”
Grif looked at the clock, “What? It’s only…3…I have like…ten more hours…”
“1600 MEANS 4pm! You have less than an hour!” Simmons held his nose, “And you need a shower.”
“No I don’t. I’m fine. I took one recently.”
“Oh yeah? When was that?”
“Er, what’s today?”
“Oh, then last Monday. That’s recent enough.”
“I’m only going to get sweaty in that armor! It doesn’t have a great ventulation system, you know.”
“Agh! For the sake of decency, will you please take a shower?”
“Fine! But this is tyranny!”
Simmons shook his head. “How the hell did you make it this far in your life?!” He slammed the door as he left.
Grif laid back down. He began to stroke his large gut with his fingers, feeling the stretch marks and the oily skin. He gave out a relaxed chuckle and closed his eyes once more.