Sucks To Be The Carrot

Many a strange event I have seen in this life, but never would I have guessed that I would witness the act of a sheep being inflated like a ballon with a bike pump. It was a routine afternoon with Team Black meandering through the mahalos, ferrying soldiers between FOB's, JSS's, COP's and other acronyms, nothing out of the ordinary. It may or may not have been the same day we saw live Hawks for sale in the market. According to our interpreters they cost somewhere between $10 and $1500 apparently allowing some margin of error. Regardless, I was absently staring into the middle distance as we rounded a corner when I saw it. Two boys in the median flanking a freshly slaughtered goat carcass that now more resembled a pinata than it's former animal self. A good person would have quietly observed the unfamiliar customs of a foreign people with respect and patient interest. I, however, burst out laughing. Laughing so loud that the kids heard me 30 feet away through 3 inches of steel armor and looked up as we drove by. They saw me smiling and pointing and smiled and waved back as they continued to pump more air into their project.

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Recently a couple one liter bottles of light yellow hand soap showed up in our bathroom. Crudely written on the side in sharpie marker are the words "hand soap." These words have been X'ed out and underneath them in even more primitive script appears the word "urine." I refuse to use this soap. I know that the labels do not truthfully describe what the bottles contain but the thought that there may even be a remote chance that some percentage of what ever is in those bottles is actually the aforementioned waste liquid, won't allow me to take the chance. This either speaks to how much we allow our perception to shape our reality, or how little I trust my coworkers.

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There are few pleasures more pure than watching your boss be mauled by a police dog. Seriously, it's hilarious, even if like me, you like your boss. It's like watching a home video of a guy taking a shot in the nuts with his kids wiffle bat. You laugh because it isn't you. And if it is you, you laugh because you can't legally murder your kid.

The medical platoon somehow coordinated a session with the MP's to act as agitators for their K9 counterparts. They dressed us up in a over sized padded green bomber jacket and gave us specific instructions on how to act around the working dogs. Unlike working girls, the standard "no eye contact", "pay first" rules don't apply. We were told to some important tips like to twist our arm if the dog grabs more than just the jacket and not to make a fist so your hand won't be crushed if it's targeted. I didn't volunteer.

MP's use a few select breeds for police work. We got the pleasure of watching a Belgian Malamute, which look like a German Shepherd mated with a harpoon, leap full speed and attach itself to one exposed appendage after another. The full take downs were the most entertaining but it was also funny to watch the dog "watch" the victim when it was ordered not to bite. |'ve never seen an animal display such unadulterated desire. It's the real world counterpart to a Bugs Bunny's eyes turning into carrots. None of the MP's had ever unleashed their dogs in a real world situation but I can tell you that you definitely don't want to be on the receiving end of those teeth.
Sucks to be the carrot.