Reddit War, Day 3: The entire platoon is out of estrogen and Mountain Dew. We beat the shit out of a guy we caught surreptitiously praying this morning. Fucking theists.

The thing about Reddit war is... the smell. You never forget it. Of course, that's just kind of how Reddit smells all the time, but it's just that much more poignant when you're in a drainage ditch behind Amy Coney Barrett's house.

War is boring. We kill the time playing Magic The Gathering (well, arguing about the rules, at least) and drawing transgressive Rugrats fan art. We tried to dig a latrine but mud's a lot harder than it looks in pictures, so several of the men have taken to wearing diapers. I mean, I think that's why they're wearing them...

Day 4: Finally some action! We awoke at Reddit dawn (11:00 AM) to the unmistakable loud, popping sounds of gunfire. You know, people made fun of Gersh Kuntzman for claiming PTSD after he shot a rifle a few times, but he was so right. The fear never leaves you...

The specifics of battle matter far less than it seems in your precious action films. The reality is a mist, a smoky aroma, a miasma of acrid body odor and death.

You normies lust for specifics, though, with your "Saving Private Ryan" and your Steven Ambrose books. So I'll throw you a bone: it was Amy Coney Barrett's kids shooting at us with cap guns- mostly single-action revolvers, but the black one had a toy AR-15. Of course they make the black one carry the damned rifle around.

Our platoon sergeant is a guy who goes by the handle RapeALLTehPonies420. He rallied us, yelling at us to take cover while he charged the enemy single-handedly. At first unimpressed, the Barrett kids pointed at him and howled with laughter- the unmistakable screaming laughter of crotch-goblins.

In that moment, I remembered why we'd all put on camo sweatpants and mustered at Books-a-Million just 4 short days prior. It was for the children. It remains for the children. If we can't hump the crap out of them, we must murder them, Flying Spaghetti Monster willing.

I snap out of my reverie to see the Barrett children have knocked RapeALLTehPonies420 to the ground and are hurling epithets at him. Some of it was pretty brutal. I mean, they say that family is devout Catholic. You think they'd have a little respect for celibacy, not use it as insult fuel.

Day 6: RapeALLTehPonies420 is gone! It seems that he absconded late last night, taking the last canteen of Dr. Thunder and our most powerful weaponry (a ninja throwing star and a Hi Point pistol with a stuck shell casing that none of us could get un-jammed). Our flank exposed, we beat a strategic retreat.

Our rally point is Plus One Gaming and Humanist Bookstore in Fredricksburg. The guy who runs the place seemed really sympathetic when we met him last week, but today we find ourselves at an impasse.

"Look, guys, we've got a very clear grooming policy and it's printed out and hung right here on the door. Frankly, you all are a total mess. You smell like crayfish... have you been living in a fucking ditch or what?"

Finally the man from Plus One accedes to us waiting for our troop transport (my mom's '97 Chevy Lumina APV) inside the store's dumpster corral. Everyone is hot, tired, and demoralized, but there's a sense of peace as well. We've survived horrors no Chive-reading frat boy could ever imagine.

As the Lumina pulled up, its motor groaning angrily under the considerable bulk of my mom and grandmother, the remnants of the platoon circled and shared a knowing glance, then a smile, then a round of raucous, villainous laughter. In that moment, we were euphoric, not because we'd attained any petty military victory, but because we knew that Cici's Pizza was on the way home.