The Red Army faced off against the Brazilian Army. Their Commanders fierce in nature and strong in will. They stared across the great expanse of the sea that divided them, each ready and able to make the next move but neither ready to commit their forces.
Supplies were dwindling quickly and moral was low. A quick victory would be welcomed by the easy-going Brazilians. They saw themselves as stronger and more determined. Their Commander marched through the ranks giving pep talks and promising the coming end to the war.
The Brazilians rallied around their tough leader, their armor encasing them within its safety. The Commander marched back and forth agitated at the water’s edge. He called for the Macadamions and they slowly made their way toward the front of the troops. “Strip!” called out the Commander. Frightened by his aggression, several ran and were soon caught and slow roasted over the campfire as a sign of what would happen to those who retreated without permission. “Cowards!” the commander hissed as they sizzled on the spit.
Heaving a mighty sigh of disgust, the Commander once again called the Macadamions forward. They marched together as a strong front and standing before the Brazilian troops, they stripped themselves of their armor and laid the casings at their Commander’s feet. “Good, good!” he bellowed to his troops as he pulled one of the cast off casings toward the water. “Brazilians advance!” he called to his troops as he trudged into the water pulling the Macadamion armor behind him.
As the water reached his middle, he slipped over the side and sat within the concave armor. He paddled slowly forward, the wake building behind him as his army gathered the cast off’s from the Macadamions and followed their fearless leader into the brown murky sea.
The armor sliced through the water cleanly and the Brazilians advanced quickly. Several disappeared into the murky water, though by some accounts, it appeared as if they had been snatched from above. The commander looked skyward and tried to see if the Red Army had advanced flying vessels, but he saw no indication of any.
The Commander continued to shout orders at his trailing army, trying to encourage them forward at a faster pace. He could see the Red Army lining up on the shore and preparing to do battle. He did not want to be beaten back before they could even reach land.
Water exploded to his left as large round, slightly pointed spheres came hurtling out of the sky. “The Chestonians! Damn that Red Army!” thought the Commander. Another exploded on his right, his tough hide pierced by flying debris, the commander ducked low and screamed at his rapidly shredding crew to persevere. The spheres fell with growing speed and accuracy. He watched as one of his generals was ripped in two and disappeared.
He called back to the shore, where his Pecanian troops still sat awaiting orders. The commander groaned at his lack of having issued them orders. “Didn’t they know to follow?” he thought in disgust, and then recalled what his general had told him about them, ‘Those Pecanian’s have such brittle hide’s.” He motioned to the army, catching the attention of the Pecanian General and signaled him forward. The General understood and called the Pecanians forward. They slipped into the murky water and sped across its surface. They came to a sudden stop near their General, who waited patiently beside the Commander. The Commander’s Macadamion vessel nearly capsized in his surprise. “Who knew they could cross the water so quickly?”
He ordered them forward at top speed. They waited for confirmation from their General and then on his order, lined up across the water in front of the Commander and set off. The Commander watched as they hit the opposing shore and burst. Shrapnel flew in every direction, the Red Army was disintegrating before his eyes.
“Ted?”
“Huh?”
“TED!?”
“Whoa, what dude?”
“Quit playing with the nuts and pass me another beer! Sheesh man, clean up all those shells, my mom’s gonna be ticked if she see’s them all over her counters and in her sink!”