(Author’s note: I found the following journal entries and letters buried in a small tin box in the isthmus of the lagoon. Everything is transcribed exactly as I found it.)
April 10, 1861
It appears war has come to our gay and God-fearing lands. These are troubled times indeed, when the people of Santabarburg must take up arms and defend themselves against the looming specter that is the Bro Union. I have already volunteered my somewhat dubious services for what is being called the War of Bro Aggression, and today tearfully made my goodbyes to my sweetheart, and bride-to-be, Samantha. I am unsure as to when I will see my beloved again, if ever. But no matter. Tomorrow the 4th company 1st brigade and I ride to Islavistatown in order to bring fresh reinforcements to Brobert E. Lee’s army. Death to the Bro Union and Long Live the Degeneracy!
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[/media-credit]April 30, 1861
We have been camped for several days without incident, and the morale of the men is high. I have been promoted to corporal, following a successful ambush on a small company of Bro Union soldiers. We were able to lure them into a small clearing by the clever device of mimicking the sounds of ongoing coitus, and en route, the enemy spotted a large quantity of alcoholic lemonade which we had secreted under some leaves. Never before have I witnessed such an icing, and indeed several of the younger men, who had never witnessed such sugary violence in the past, were quietly sick in the bushes. Despite this, no mercy or quarter was given and no prisoners were taken.
November 5, 1861
Bro retreat! The Degeneracy has won a great battle in our struggle to protect our right to party from these Bro aggressors. On the battlefield of Broidanooga, our just cause has prevailed against the inept General Broseph Hooker and his army. As I write these very words, General Lee and General Hooker are in the command tent, exchanging shot for shot, negotiating what should be a fine surrender. We have, in addition, captured large quantities of hemp, low quality beer, high quality beer, hard spirits and womenfolk that we will assuredly use to continue our rout of these damned Bros. Long live the Degeneracy!
January 12, 1862
Defeat! Why such horrors would be perpetrated in the name of limiting parties to five people or less, I will never understand. Sergeant David “Big Bro” Taylorson became separated from our company of gentlemen scholars three days previously, during a spirited fisticuff skirmish with the enemy. We found him two days later. It appears that upon his capture those villainous Bros proceeded to mercilessly pour ye-olde Natural Light into his gullet, until neither his body nor his soul could endure any more of such terrible punishment. The men are shaken and look to me for comfort, but the evil of this conflict shakes the very foundation of my being. Morale is low.
March 2, 1862
Perhaps if the Bro Union had not, in a cowardly and condemnable act, tainted our protein powder reserves with LSD, we would have fared more honorably. As it was, there were no words to describe the carnage and devastation I witnessed as I awoke the morning after the battle, half-buried in the sand and suffering terribly of katzenjammer. Large barrels of beer lay strewn across the beach, and the flotsam from the rafts the Bros had attacked littered the sand like an angry god had personally chosen it for holy defilement. How the mess this war has caused will ever be cleaned, I have no idea, although I fear it will not be a problem of mine, as my strength fades from my body with alarming rapidity. I miss my sweet Samantha more than ever and my only wish is to gaze upon her face one last time.
June 1, 1862
To whom it may concern,
It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that Corporal Christopher Broham, Herbal Specialist 1st Class, has valiantly fallen in the field of battle. He served honorably, and his sacrifice is a proud example to degenerates everywhere. May God have mercy on his soul, and Long Live the Degeneracy!
