“Well, P, you’re just impossible to please,” the soldier said in the middle of a battle.

“Excuse me?” I yelled like a loud Italian that I am. “Excuuuuuuuuuse me?”

“You can’t be pleased!” he shouted. (swearing below the break)

I threw my head back with a snort. “Well that’s pretty funny you math-bastard!”  The soldier loves math and always tells me I am illogical and so forth.  “Because to the best of my recollection I AM satisfied most the time.  I express my satisfaction with you, to you and to the rest of the world on a daily basis… multiple times a day!” I yelled. “Now let’s see? I am satisfied with you, what?  97% of the time? 98% of the time I am satisfied with you but you think it’s appropriate to tag me as hard to please? Show me the equation for that you logic-son-of-a-bitch! Where is your CAL-CU-LAT-OR???”

He just stared and I know why.

It’s because this is the point where he would like to stomp me into the ground but he can’t so he’s at a total fuming loss and so am I.  We just have to wait until we become un-pissed is all. It usually takes a day and a half.