I could really go for a chicken fajita right now... But the last time I got yelled at because I got sauce all over my uniform. But still, I want it. More than life itself. What is life anyway? Is it merely the noun that accompanies the verb to live? Is it the result of an action? Or are we passive beings that watch a series of events unfold before our eyes on the Television of Being that fuse with the minds of the celestial children? The chosen. We the celestial children live because we are chosen. And I choose to have that fajita. Fuck the general and he deems 'presentable'. I can kill a man on the battlefield whether I have a stain on me or not.