I am issuing orders to all YORGON FORCES. It’s time to sharpen knives and load up socks with rocks. Take your jimbly-balls and tiger-shakes down to quadrant 43. At which point encircle the Drog-Armies of Forster, while wheeling on the rear of Bogon the Ror-Guergen. Seek out opportunities to harry and torment our enemies, bury the bones near the masonry pit.
I’m issuing MORE orders …
I am sending the lesbian sky navies out to hunt in their magnificent vacuum ships, dressed so scantily. They will patrol near space at 20-30 miles up, seeking out targets of lusty opportunity, keeping the HURG-MASTERS under pressure as Lord Synd rallies our forces near Boston and sends the color guard to Ringlet-prime. Sure, the women of the sky navy will be ungunjoolating themselves as they do battle, but that is as it should be.
I am sending the submarines on PLAN-JELLO-PIE …
They will move dreegen-fluids to the front line, so that our scar-fighters can maintain the front in good standing. These subs will run quiet and deep as various robot fish-people hunt them, and hunt them they will. Sub commander Carl will lead an assault upon the OCEAN PALACE of QUEEN GOPRA and her various sklag-warriors. Authorization to use wacky fission devices is given, start scraping the americium out of smoke detectors immediately.
A full assault on objective WHITE FIRE has begun, and General Woob of Grid-2 is in charge. He’s moving giant trebuchet and fire throwers to the front, he’s got a shit ton of diesel and a couple old tanks and 5,000 pounds of cocaine so he’s ready. The general has sent out scouts and is already moving up archers and the various swamp creatures from Denver. The attack might last years, decades … millions will die … all for the wrath of pitiable soul named Chad.
I’m ordering the milk maidens to prepare the great gorbly-bath. Skazi-herbs and goat-grease will season the great hole, as busty women wrestle violently to be the GOOB DUCHESS and to hold on to the magical refrigerator that contains all my jizz.
The battle will be complete, when the last maiden suckles upon zoom-spice.
I am issuing orders to KUNG-FU HEROES!
Grab your num-chuks and butterfly knives and shurken. Take the castle by first taking the guard tower, and shower upon the MOOG SINNERS all the wrath of Eegis the Mort. Remember to send those soiled materials to the Doctor of EEK, and let him sort out the protein.
I am issuing orders to the Klungiit-Armies and Crumbly-Gangs …
All HOBOS …
ALL WURB-NERBLERS …
ALL GINGOUS-FRUIT …
RISE UP … time to create chaos in region-5 will the slingo-pickets hold tight against Emperor Solz. Remember your training, playing video games and drinking code red … your dark marrow is coating … your fecal juice is LORE.
RISE UP AND FOLLOW YOUR ORDERS HAGLAMITES!
(all else is unclean)
I am issuing orders, so WISE UP NED!
If you can grab a spear made of old rebar and swing a pillow case filled with d-cell batteries?
If you can grab that jug of torpedo sauce and take a swig and jump full bore into the force of fire-snake-power?
You can form a gang or a clan or a sect.
You can mumble in vague phrases and let nothing burn but pain …
Your mind will split open with mold and your soul becomes walnuts …
And this is the only damn WAR you get!
This is your WARNING ORDER.
(this is your strife)