So Bindlestick came over for lunch today...

Right, so the story so far; Bindlestick and I occasionally have lunch together at my apartment, as we both work at the same institution which makes it quite easy for these "lunch dates" to occur. These consist most often of my cooking something, and Bindlestick picking up Subway, or hotdogs from the nearest Circle K. First, and as an aside, I'd like to point out that Bindlestick, who I will now refer to as Dave henceforth, is a dirty hobo who only cooks tacos, while I in my multi-talented geniusness (yes, indeed) can cook foodstuffs worthy of a king's table.

Now all that is completely beside the point, what follows is not.

On my kitchen table sits a flower vase. However, in liu of flowers resides a G.I. Joe. This particular G.I. Joe's name is Bogart Zeus. He is fully-poseable, comes with ten accessories, and is worthy of much praise. Bogart Zeus' mission is very simple, to kill Nazis and impress any woman whom happenstance would place in my apartment on any given day. After all, what is more impressive than a twenty-five year old male replacing all the flowers vases in his apartment with G.I. Joe vases? Now, to accomplish this mission, this directive, Bogart Zeus makes use of his good looks for the woman, and his Nazi killing implements for the Nazis.

Now please, consider this; what does a soldier most need in order to succeed at blotting out Nazis? Easy, his backpack. "Oh wait" you say, "but Grimnoc, what about his weapons?" To this I proclaim, "Piffle!" What good will his weapons do when their chambers run dry? From where will he produce his extra clips if not from his backpack? Where will he withdraw his lembas when hunger ravages his belly? If his backpack be nonexistent or otherwise inoperable, is it not unimaginable to surmise that he may have difficulties attracting woman in his stained and grubby wargear because he could no longer hold on to his civies due to the lack of a suitable place in which to store them? All of these functions and more a solid backpack would provide the stalwart Bogart Zues if it were not for one central villain.

Dave.

Immediately upon entering my apartment the one known as Dave proceeded to poke and prod at Bogart Zues. He, being the disciplined soldier he is silently put up with the indignities forced upon him, if only to allow me the pleasure of company with a dear friend, however tense the situation may have been.

Then the situation escalated well beyond what any man could allow to pass. Dave spitefully, perhaps craving Bogart Zues' stash of lembas and bazooka gum, ripped the backpack from his back. In being subjected to such a display of dull-witted, brute strength the attachment peg broke away from the backpack to become permanently stuck in Bogart Zues' back.

To put it simply, Dave broke my G.I. Joe.

Douche.