Drill Sergeant

By Austin B. Hahn

I went to basic combat training from May until August of 2016. Basic combat training proved to be a tough experience, and humor was something that got me through it. To my surprise, I found the drill sergeants to be quite humorous. In fact, they inspired me to write these pieces, hence the title, “Drill Sergeant,” which parodies and pays tribute to the role of a drill sergeant. If you’re a drill sergeant or a former drill instructor, I hope you appreciate and enjoy these.

Please note: This parody is intended for comedic purposes only and does not reflect the actual U.S. military.

Scene I

(The year is 2055 in Fort Tumbleweed, Oklahoma. Seventy-five-year-old Drill Sergeant Mullberry, who has been a drill sergeant for fifty years and will be retiring after this cycle, makes an announcement on the intercom. Today is the first official day of basic combat training for the soldiers.)

Drill Sergeant Mullberry: Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!!! Soldiers, you have exactly thirty minutes to be downstairs on the drill pad. Time now. Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!!!

(The soldiers wake up at 4:30 in the morning. They conduct personal hygiene and put on their uniforms for physical training. Before making their way downstairs to the drill pad, Drill Sergeant Mullberry gets on the intercom again.)

Drill Sergeant Mullberry: Soldiers! You have less than ten minutes to get downstairs and be in formation on the drill pad in PT uniform. Time now. Let’s go! If you don’t get down on time, I will hand out lyric sheets and make you all sing “Barbie Girl” during PT. It was popular back in my day. Let’s get movin’!!!

(The soldiers rush downstairs. All of them are standing in formation at the position of attention. Meanwhile, Drill Sergeant Mullberry makes her way out to the drill pad with the assistance of her walker.)

Drill Sergeant Mullberry: Hurry up you sons of bitches! Hurry up!

(Drill Sergeant Mullberry slowly edges her way to the platoon.)

Drill Sergeant Mullberry: I swear some of you guys are so slow! Come on soldiers! Come on! You don’t need to take all day now!

(Minutes later, Drill Sergeant Mullberry stops in front of the platoon and reaches down her cargo pocket. She pulls out a piece of paper with her reading glasses and puts them on.)

Drill Sergeant Mullberry: Hey soldiers! We have so much to cover in such little time. First of all, there is a new hygienic regulation in place. Last cycle, 1st Sergeant was deployed to China. When he came back, he told everyone that he could still smell their stinky asses while he was over there, so he recommended to the TRADOC Commander that a new regulation should be implemented. This year we are going to start douching!

(She opens the piece of paper up and quickly glances down at it.)

Drill Sergeant Mullberry: TRADOC regulation 3-56 says that you will all douche first thing in the morning. You can thank the last cycle of soldiers who were here for this one.

(The soldiers begin to talk amongst themselves.)

Soldiers: What!? No! Gross! Hell no … I don’t want to–

Drill Sergeant Mullberry: –Listen up soldiers!!! The Army doesn’t have a lot of money, which means we did not have the financial resources to buy you all a douche, so you will have to share the turkey baster that I left up in your bay. You will be briefed after PT by Drill Sergeant Hughes on how to douche. Soldiers, if you come back down tomorrow morning on the drill pad, and I can smell you, I will make you go back upstairs and do it again, and I will watch you to ensure you are utilizing the proper douching technique that Drill Sergeant Hughes showed you. Do you have any questions?

Soldiers: No Drill Sergeant!

Drill Sergeant Mullberry: Good. Do not forget your military bearing, and use courtesy when speaking to an NCO. You want to make a good impression on Drill Sergeant Hughes. That means no talking when he is talking, and when you speak, you stand at parade rest! Remember, he will be showing you how to douche, not how to be one!

Scene II

For those who have no military experience:

During basic combat training, as soldiers, we were expected to keep our personal space, which included our lockers, beds, and shoe displays, clean and ready for inspection at any given moment. Failure to meet this standard would result in disciplinary action.

(Drill Sergeant Fernandez walks into the male bay. The soldiers are standing at the position of attention next to their bunks aligned with one another.)

Drill Sergeant Fernandez: Soldiers!!! How come your lockers look like shit!!!???

(No one answers.)

Drill Sergeant Fernandez: Oh, so now no one wants to answer. Okay. I see how it is soldiers … You don’t want to clean your lockers? Hey! I got you. I got you. Some of you went ahead and just said, “Fuck you, Drill Sergeant! You’re not my real dad! You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Well guess what soldiers? Guess what!!!??? Since you want to leave your lockers looking like shit, I decided to take a shit in one of your lockers! That’s right soldiers. I took a SHIT in one of your lockers!!!

(The soldiers panic and start talking to each other.)

Soldiers: You secured your locker, right? I hope I didn’t …

Drill Sergeant Fernandez: Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up! Soldiers, soldiers, soldiers. I’m giving you a simple task, but treat it like a mission: you must locate the shit, and if you don’t start looking for it right now, I’m going to take a shit in another one! You have thirty seconds to find it. GO!!!

Harold and Martha: A Phone Conversation

By Austin B. Hahn

(Harold as the narrator.)

I was on the phone with my wife telling her about the new mattress our grandson had bought.

“It’s a futon,” I said.

“A what?” she asked.

“A futon, dear.”

“Spell it.”

“F-U-”

“Harold!”

“What?”

“What the hell is wrong with you? I ask you to spell it, and all you can tell me is F me!? Don’t F me. Go F yourself!”

I said, “Martha, I’m not telling you to go F yourself. I’m telling you how to spell it. I’ve been married to you for thirty-nine years now. If I wanted to tell you ‘F you,’ I would’ve done it a long time ago. It’s a little too late for that now.” She tells me to go on, and I say “F-U-T-O-N,” and then she tells me to slow down, so then I say, “F … U … T …” and then she calls me a jackass for treating her like a moron. I said, “Well, whaattt? Here I am tryin’ to fuckin’ spell it for you, and you’re over here bitchin’ that I’m goin’ too fast, so then I slow down, and now you’re saying that I’m treating you like you’re stupid.” I can’t win with my wife. She’s exhausting!

I finally spell it for her, and then she asks, “Who has a futon???”

Meet Harold and Martha

By Austin B. Hahn

Harold and Martha are an elderly married couple who often bicker and fight with each other over trivial matters. They’re hilarious and have been a God-given gift sent to my imagination. I am ecstatic to be introducing you to them; I’m sure we all know a couple like this. Here’s a scene from a typical day with them.

(Harold as the narrator.)

So one time, my grandson left his phone at our house. I figured, “Oh! Well he must’ve forgot it.” I picked it up and accidentally opened up a text message. I said, “Oh what’s this?” and the next thing I know, I see some girl messaging my grandson something about a butt plug.

I went to my wife, and I asked, “Martha, what’s a butt plug?”

She goes, “Harold, why do you want to know what a butt plug is?” and so I told her, “Because some girl is texting our grandson something about a butt plug.” She started to nag and lecture me.

“Harold, you shouldn’t even be prying into our grandson’s personal life anyway. Why do you have his phone?”

I explained to her that he forgot it, and when I went to pick it up I accidentally opened up a text message, so then she finally turns to me, annoyed as usual, and says, “Fine. You wanna know what it is, Harold? It’s what I would put in your mouth to shut you up so I could forget that I even married you. Ugh!”