Moms Love Their Poolies: Day T9–There Was a Young Poolie

Few and Proud -- and Missed By Their Mommies

Dear Justin,

Yay! The new letters are here! The new letters are here! (I hope we didn’t neglect your childhood education, and that this immediately called to your mind the new phonebooks from the film The Jerk.)

Three letters came at once: A form letter from your “life coach” (a.k.a. drill instructor), the form letter you were required to send, and your actual handwritten letter explaining how your loving administrators are concerned about how fragile you recruits are, and letting us know that therefore we should send only POSITIVE news.

I suspect the Marines will squeeze the last drop of fragility right out of you guys. In the other military branches, quarters must bounce off just-made beds. Is it true that Marine drill instructors insist they bounce off your hides?

Your letter said that they weren’t working you out too heavily yet. By the time you get this letter, you will have had a week or two of the grind. Are your muscles bulging now, or is it just that the swelling hasn’t yet gone down?

You'd Better Get Some Ice on That

Today, in Trivial News on the Home Front:
My bunny does NOT like banana–she thinks it’s nasty. Weird bunny.
We have not had to buy any new jars of peanut butter since you left. (That makes me just a little sad…)

Here is a poem, written on the spot just for you (I cheated and used your middle name):
There was a young poolie named John,
Who would be a Marine before long,
Then his Mommy would kiss him,
And tell him she’d missed him,

(Moms love their Marines–it’s not wrong.)

Okay, maybe that poem was just for me.

Here’s one for you:

How nice for John and all the boys
To camp they get to go!
They live in big longhouses

And sleep on bunks, you know!

They work together on their skills
And help each other out
Because it’s best to work in teams;

It’s what boot camp’s about!

At end of day when work is done
They have fun weenie roasts;
(That’s if the weenies come in cans,

or are served by mess-hall hosts!)

They take long hikes together
To enjoy the great outdoors
There’s nowhere else they’d rather be,

(Unless it’s scrubbing floors.)

And when the sun is going down
And the leader calls “Lights Out!”
Like happy campers everywhere,

You hear the joyful shout:

“But sir, we’re having so much fun,
It can’t be time for bed–
Let’s go on just one more quick run,

Or do curl-ups, instead!”

They plead, they beg, they offer bribes,
But their leader is quite wise,
He knows his campers need their sleep:

One hour to rest their eyes!

And then it’s up and at ’em
For another day of fun;
Yes, John and all the fellows

Are Marine-bound, every one!

Okay, okay, so it’s not my best work, but it’s among my fastest!
Well, that’s it for now!  Today was a nice day.  

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Filed under Funny, Poetry

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