Colonel: “…well, he’ll just be S-O-S!”
Me: “Sir, you mean S-O-L.”
Colonel: “What?”
Me: “S-O-L is shit-outta-luck; S-O-S is shit-ona-shingle. You mean, he’ll be shit-outta-luck, S-O-L.”
Colonel: “Yeah, yeah, S-O-L, that’s what I meant.”
Me: “You were saying…?”
Colonel: “Right, so anyway, he’ll just be S-O-S and…”
Me: { sigh }




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