Sergeant Sargento had made a career out of whipping young recruits into shape. And over decades of experience, he'd developed a knack for instantly figuring out which recruits were most under-whipped. Never had that been more apparent than with the two individuals who stood before him presently.
"Private Mogey," Sergeant Sargento declared, his face mere inches from Mogey's, "do I detect a smudge of chocolate on your face?"
"S'more, yes, S'more!" Mogey shouted.
"Private Smush," said Sergeant Sargento, taking a step to the left, "did your pal just call me 'S'more?'"
"S'more, yes, S'more!" Smush answered.
"Why do you two imbeciles keep saying 'S'more?'" Sergeant Sargento demanded.
"Sir, we're a bit nervous, S'more," Mogey said.
"Nervous, eh? No need to be nervous."
"Sir, thank you, sir," Smush replied, breathing an obvious sigh of relief.
"No problem," Sergeant Sargento said as he patted each of the pals on the shoulder. "I have just one further question."
"Sir, ask us anything, sir," Mogey rejoined.
"How - and before you answer this, keep in mind that any recruit caught bringing candy into my barracks faces consequences ranging from boxing my brother, Oswaldo 'The Big Cheese' Sargento, to boxing my other brother, Enrique 'El Queso Grande' Sargento - how did you end up with chocolate on your face?"
"S'more?" Mogey asked uncertainly.
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