The Diary of Burmese soldier #64 in Rambo

So, first things first. I'm a fairly nice guy. I'm normally the guy who keeps things cool in situations that get a little hairy. I'm all about peace. But who am I to argue with the Burmese army? I mean, they basically took out my entire village and forced me into service against my will. Alright. What's done is done. I serve my duty, very dilligently mind you, without so much as a complaint. I work hard, and I do what I'm told. They normally don't include me on many missions, as I'm the guy who has to guard the "prisoner cages". Fine. No problem. Even though I hate the smell of pig shit, and generally don't like getting dirty, I do what I'm told. One time, I even had to patrol the area in the rain, without a poncho! You could get pretty sick doing that. Just once, I wanna go out on the "Rally" truck, or go for a ride on the boat. But, the bossman says no. "We already have soldiers #20 through 60 out on patrol. #'s 70 through 100 are taking a break. You stay here and guard the American woman no one will be coming for, #64." "Yes, sir!" Meanwhile, he goes off to his barracks with Ting, the 14 year-old boy who I still have no idea what he's here for.
Anyhoo, I'm a trooper, and I make do. So, there's this big strip tease show going on in one of the other huts, and most of the other guys are taking it in, throwing smoke canisters and getting rowdy and all. Me? I stay off the booze for the most part. Well, about this time, I can see that the female prisoner is looking pretty bad. I can tell she hasn't eaten for a while, so I decide she probably ought to try and get something in her. I take her out of the cage, which is completely filthy by the way (not by my choice), and take her to our café of sorts. Pretty much they just offer dim sum, rice and not much else. But anything helps, right? So, I tell her to eat, and she just looks at me with a frightened look. What is with this language barrier? I mean, you come into our country to help. The least you could do is learn our language! So, yeah, this kind of frustrated me. I probably started to get a little hot, because I'm trying to help, and she can't seem to figure this out. Just as I'm about to sit down and help her, that's when I sensed something was wrong. Boy howdy, was it ever!
Next thing I know, I have a this sweaty, grunting soldier putting a vice-like grip on my throat. That's when I realize it's none other than John Rambo himself. That's also about the time I shat myself. He obviously didn't trim his nails, because I could feel them digging into my neck. Let me tell you, I'm a nice guy, but I don't appreciate that. He didn't even give me a chance to explain myself. Not that it would have mattered, what with the vice-like grip he had. Well, one thing leads to another, and he ends up tearing my throat out. The rest is kinda hazy.

Gee, thanks Rambo.

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