Holy Moly. Due to the sensitive nature of the subject matter discussed here, as well as the creed of the silent warrior that the SEAL community ‘used' to follow, much of this true account has been redacted and the names of several individuals have been changed due to ongoing operations. Other than that it is all ‘mostly’ true. I think. I can’t remember.
May 2015
Next stop on the #vanlife miscreant tour we decided would be a beach of some sort. Van people seem to always take pictures of themselves waking up half naked by the ocean. Sounds pretty click bait’ey but let’s give it a shot.
Wasn’t long before we rolled up onto the nearest beach only to find it full of blasted tourists sunning themselves like a bunch of sea lions on Animal Planet. Bummer. Nobody would want to click on our super awesome pictures with those fatties splayed out in the background, so we figured we’d go find another spot.
We stopped by this statue of Abraham Lincoln before leaving. So glad he swam over here and discovered America for us before those evil Russians did. My boys liked his beard, and kept asking me why I wouldn’t let them grow theirs yet. Same reason I don’t let them eat mint chocolate chip ice cream for breakfast.
Gotta save some awesome for later boys.
Eventually we discovered this gem of a campsite, hidden in a forest on some Navy SEAL training base. My wife forgot her Special Forces ID badge back home, but since she knew the secret handshake they let us in. Not to mention they also thought our minivan was amazing. That helped too.
The following morning I went out to meditate and build a sand castle on our private beach, but was rudely interrupted by my beardless progeny. Apparently they were tired of my requiring them to shave every morning, and were going to let me know it.
After heaps of biting, clawing, and even an illegal nut shot or two they eventually surrendered. The old man’s still got it, as my wife is oft to say. Plus I was the only one with a beard in this scenario.
We then proceeded to plan and simulate the infiltration and sacking of a French castle, complete with much taunting.
The Spec Ops guys that were jogging along the beach kept asking us about our van and if we’d give them a ride in it, so we never got a chance to get those sweet pics of our toes pointed at the horizon for our Instagram account. Oh well. Besides, the boys were pretty beat up from all the training. Don’t need nobody calling the CPS or IRS on us. Damn commies.
Proud of these little guys. They’ll make old Honest Abe proud if them Russians ever try to come back over here to avenge their loss to Rocky Balboa. We’re ready, beard or no beard.