Sgt. Slaughter’s Desert PT

“Ears!”
“Open, sir!”
“Eyeballs!”
“Click, sir!”
“Why are you not at the top of my stinkin’ obstacle right now?”
“Uh, ‘f-fraid’a heights, sir!”
“Oh, and I suppose the arid conditions are at odds with your skin care regimen! You shut your stinkin’ suck and climb that apparatus before I climb straight up your ass, wear you like a saggy wetsuit, drag you up and over that thing, and take a victory power crap inside you before slicing my way outta your cowardly carcass with a rusty Ka-Bar! That sound like a better plan than just mustering some testicular fortitude to do it yourself?!”
“Request permission to make a head call first, sir!”
“Denied! You do it right there! Five, four, three, two, you should be…”
“Done, sir!”
“That is most decidedly not a victory power crap running down your leg, recruit. Fly!”
“Aye, sir…”