The toxic waste spikers are a strange lot. They don’t care about clothing sizes, because they believe that any size fits anybody. If they are physically incapable of cramming their feet into the army boots they have been issued, for example, they wear them on their ears instead and pretend it’s all the same. This also assists them in hearing no evil. They will take their boots off only to receive orders from the Surgeon General. When driving (their 1945 model jeeps from Michigan running on leaded gasoline), they can’t see any problem with running red lights, because nobody can prove they will be harmed. They are also quite happy to play Russian roulette. In the mess hall, each toxic waste spiker requires a barrel full of ketchup. Less than 1% goes on their SPAM, and the rest lands on the table, floor, their ill-fitting clothes, and their hands. In their minds, that’s a very efficient and cost-effective mission accomplished. They never do anything to clean up the mess they’ve made. When away from the barracks, they will eat or drink anything from any plant or animal. They also eat yellowcake, snort asbestos, and drink crude oil, and think nothing of being bitten by snakes and other venomous creatures, because any natural substance must be a harmless nutrient. When they encounter babies, they generously make the crying critters eat yellowcake, snort asbestos, and drink crude oil, because breast milk is far too low in these vital nutrients. If insane parents try to insist on depriving their infants, straitjackets and electroshock usually do the trick. If not, their worries are eased with safe and effective frontal lobotomies, for a modest fee.

The toxic waste spikers also eat soap and toothpaste, and drink shampoo and sunscreen. It’s no wonder they froth at the mouth. They cheerily slam down alcoholic drinks until they pass out in their own vomit or die, every day until they die. If one shot doesn’t kill you, how could 200 possibly do any harm, right? They believe that passing out in their own vomit has nothing to do with drinking, or any of their other dietary habits. They drink the cheapest, nastiest liquor available, even though not usually short of money, because the notion of quality means nothing to them. They do prefer straight spirits, though, because they are terrified of dying from drinking too much water, or as many of them call it, “dihydrogen monoxide”. They like nothing more than faithfully obeying orders in this way, and making others comply. It’s amazing that the toxic waste spiking dinosaurs are not yet extinct.