The sun hasn't yet tinged the dark morning sky, and your squad patrols through the dense jungle, tense with anticipation and fear. The humidity blankets you, smothering your breath and making each step an effort. The enemy is everywhere, and yet nowhere. Your muscles quiver with the exhaustion of hours of expectation.
Suddenly - POW! One of your men is down! Pow! Pow! Pow! Violence flies past you on every side. Phwap! Phwap! Fast and furious they come, the mini marshmallows, wrecking havoc left and right, but all you see is the white flash of their trails and perhaps, just perhaps, through the foliage a glimmer of pvc pipe in the distance.
The mini-marshmallow gun, I have recently discovered, is a thing of pure beauty. Well, it will be, until Patrick gets one and starts using it in the house, pelting the cat and leaving sticky, shrivelled mini marshmallows for the ants to come and devour in bits.
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