Freedom and Tacos
Your mission, should you choose to accept it ...
Jake was standing in the toy aisle, playing a game of "Would You Rather" in his head. To be fair, it's not like any of the scenarios would be a pleasure cruise. We're talking war, here. The super secret Extreme Ops kind. But if he had to choose between the possibility of getting his face eaten off by some mutant Jungle lizard or losing valuable appendages to frostbite in sub-Arctic temperatures, he'd take his chances with the cold.
Then he remembered that snowball fight last winter, and how the wet snow had soaked through the mittens Granny Sharon knitted for him. His fingers had become so numb that he couldn't pack a decent snowball, and he ended up losing miserably to his neighbor's annoying cousin Robbie. He still hadn't lived that one down. In that case, a Desert Command mission sounded pretty good.
So it was a little hot and dry. Nothing could be as hot as the blazing inferno he'd have to face if he accepted the Fireforce Resistance mission. And if he got thirsty in the desert, he'd just carve open a cactus like he had learned about in science class. Unless of course he got so dehydrated that he started to hallucinate and see mirages of cacti that didn't really exist.
It was a chance he was just going to have to take. He was a soldier, after all. That settled it. Desert Command mission it was.
He just hoped it would be a quick in-and-out job. Next week was Taco Tuesday, his most favorite dinner night ever, and he didn't want to miss it.