Joseph McIsaac

“First item in the crew roster is given name, so I'll input 'Skippy'. Second item is surname-"
"The Magnificent."
"Really?"
"It is entirely appropriate, Joe."
"Oh, uh huh, because that's what everyone calls you," I retorted sarcastically, rolling my eyes. Not wanting to argue with him, I typed in 'TheMagnificent'.
"Next question is your rank, this file is designed for military personnel."
"I'd like 'Grand Exalted Field Marshall El Supremo'." "Right, I'll type in 'Cub Scout'. Next question-"
"Hey! You jerk-"
"-is occupational specialty."
"Oh, clearly that should be Lord God Controller of All Things."
"I'll give you that one, that is spelled A, S, S, H, O, L, E. Next-"
"Hey! You shithead, I should-"
"Age?" I asked.
"A couple million, at least. I think."
"Mentally, you're a six year old, so that's what I typed in."
"Joe, I just changed your rank in the personnel file to 'Big Poopyhead'." Skippy laughed.
"Five year old. You're a five year old."
"I guess that's fair," he admitted.
"Sex? I'm going to select 'n/a' on that one for you," I said.
"Joe, in your personnel file, I just updated Sex to 'Unlikely'."
"This is not going well, Skippy."
"You started it!"
"That was mature. Four year old, then. Maybe Terrible Twos."
"I give up," Skippy snorted. "Save the damned file and we'll call it even, Ok?"
"No problem. We should do this more often, huh?"
"Oh, shut up.”
― Craig Alanson, SpecOps

“Marine Corps doesn’t much care whether you’re having a good morale day or not. You do your job, regardless. Semper fidelis. Not when-I’m-feeling-it fidelis.”
― Craig Alanson, Zero Hour

“Ha! Listen, this guy walks into a bar, with a shopping bag, right? He sits down, puts the bag on the bar. Something in the bag is moving, and the bartender says ‘Hey, buddy, no animals in here’. You with me, Jones?” “Yah.” “The guy is looking real unhappy, totally down in the dumps, he reaches in the bag. He pulls out a brass lantern, then a small piano, a little stool, and finally a little guy in a tuxedo, about a foot tall. The little guy sits on the stool and starts playing the piano. Playing the piano, right?” “Yah. Got, it.” “Bartender says,” Williams’ grasp on a handhold slipped for a heart-stopping moment before the suit gloves restored their sticky grip. He could see the problem was some sort of fluid leaking from the access hatch above had coated the handhold. He moved his hand to the left to avoid the slippery fluid, and continued climbing down. “Bartender says, ‘That’s amazing, where’d you get him?’ Guy points to the lamp. ‘Magic genie granted me a wish, But he don’t hear so well-’ Before the guy can stop him, the bartender grabs the lamp, rubs it and shouts ‘I want a million bucks!’. POOF! The bar is filled with ducks! Ducks everywhere, under the tables, in the street outside, feathers flying all over the place. The bartender says ‘What the hell?’ So the guy says ‘I told you the genie don’t hear so well. You really think I asked for a twelve inch pianist?”
― Craig Alanson, Black Ops

“Joe you idiot!” He jumped up and down on the desk, waving his arms frantically. “Don’t you know that if you recite the Ikea catalog in the wrong order, you could accidentally summon a demon?”
― Craig Alanson, Armageddon