Watching these n00bs go out and try to hunt for Easter eggs causes me great mental distress. They're all like "Mommy mommy I see one behind that tree!" and, "Daddy, look at the pretty eggs on the ground!" I mean REALLY?! You're just going to sit there and yell out the location of your spotted treasure, your goal, and expect your competition not to swoop in and get it? You think that the Khmer Rouge, the VC, or Russkies would honor some gentleman's agreement and let you have the egg because you saw it first and were dumb enough to broadcast to the world that THERE IT IS AND IT'S SO PRETTY AND WHAT DO I DO, OH PICK IT UP? YOU MEAN WITH MY HANDS? DADDY CAN YOU HELP ME?! Just for that, Ry-dog and I are going to sweep in, grab your precious eggs, crack them open, and eat the delicious candy contents right in front of your face. Then when we get sooper buzzed on the sugar and are vibrating like U235 hit with a couple spare neutrons, we're gonna puke on your Go Diego Go t-shirt and laugh all the way home.
You'd think these monkeys had never been to an Easter Egg Hunt before - alright granted they likely haven't. But the concepts are the same as supporting Special Forces 100 klicks behind enemy lines in a hotly contested region- search, locate, extract, all while maintaining comm blackout. Or if you see the enemy is closer, then destroy them before they can be captured and spill your secrets. Common knowledge.
Cheese and Rice, people! Get your sh$t sorted out! This isn't some day at the park. It's frackin' Easter! It's do or die. Ryan back there knows what I'm talking about.
Hoppy Easter, suckers.
That is all...
