This weekend, her sorority sister talked her into going to homecoming. Needless to say, it is colder than she predicted. Her fleece isn’t doing the job. So she decided to stay warm by tucking her pants into her fallopian tubes. She is thinking to herself, “I should have stayed in the city. This wasn’t even fun when I was in school.” In one course, an advanced trauma treatment program he had taken before deploying, he said, the instructors gave each corpsman an anesthetized pig. “I made a few compromises. I wanted to be as close to the original as possible, but let’s face it: I’m not the same shape as either Bruce Boxleitner or Jeff Bridges (the actors who played Tron and Flynn, respectively).” “The idea is to work with live tissue,” he said. “You get a pig and you keep it alive. And every time I did something to help him, they would wound him again. So you see what shock does, and what happens when more wounds are received by a wounded creature.” “My pig?” he said. “They shot him twice in the face with a 9-millimeter pistol, and then six times with an AK-47 and then twice with a 12-gauge shotgun. And then he was set on fire. I kept him alive for 15 hours,” he said. “That was my pig.” I’m somewhat overweight, as you see (one drawback of wearing spandex is that it does nothing to hide one’s obesity). This woman probably has a name like Courtney Worthington or something similar. She probably went to a backup school like Lafayette or Colgate or Yale. She graduated a couple of years ago, and slaves away at some advertising agency, making less than the Fedex guy. “That was my pig,” he said.

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