Hepatitis As a Means to Achieve Victory For Our Comrades in Siberia

All we are is little pin-pricks.
Little crumbs.
Little dust mites.
Little baby taco shells.
Little miniature basketballs, so miniature even the smallest of younglings can wield them and throw down a vicious windmill jam.
Little bugs that hide out in the rocks and the dead leaves and come out at night to skitter around and to eat dinner.
Little soups and little breads for little mouths.
I'm going to take my little things and I'm leaving. And I'm not going to come back for awhile. But when I do come back, you'll see me coming from afar off. I'll be making a lot of noise and I'll be kicking up a little dust trail so you can't miss me. And then when I get back, I'll be covered in dust and you can lick it off me if you want. And then we shall feast on the fatted calf and the fatted Subway sandwich and the fatted fish taco from Del Taco. Then we shall slumber, slumber, slumber, forever in our little beds with little smiles on our faces. Because... we have gone to battle and we have won the day. And no one else will get the day. It's our day. And no one will ever take it from you. Good night.