So That Every Mouth Can Be Fed

Right. It was all making such sense. I got promoted today. Yossarian works for 18 months and one day after I take over...promotion. What a chump. Yossarian hated ceremonies. I bathed in it today. I made it mine and basked in the warmth of the attention. Why he would hide from any adoration is beyond me. Everything was going so well. Then he had to fuck it all up.
I found this place up the farm road where I had every intention of burying him. But I got greedy. You know how pride kills more than cancer, AIDS and the CIA combined? Well my pride is in the plan. I wanted to make it back to the house in time to enjoy some drinks before I had to sleep. So I decided to put him back together and glue his head back. I stitched it up and glued what I could. Something I noticed was that all of his brains were gone. Now that I think of it, when I blew them out, there were none splattered on the wall. Just bone and flesh. Some blood. A bit of tongue.
I sat him upright n the passenger seat of his car, enabling me to use the car pool lane. The temperature was dropping and I noticed something emitting from his chest. I remembered how Yossarian used to say he liked the winter so much because he already had warmth inside. He was such a fucking putz.
I took him to what I assume was a battlefield. Barbarian hordes died there. Germans died there. American men died there. Good men, young men, brave men all died there. Fighting what they hoped would be the last battle fought. Fighting for an ideal unattainable. Fighting for words used by men with no real power, but power of words. Fighting because that is what they were born to do. The last thing these men did was lay down their weapon. The last thing they saw was the kings of men relinquish their crown. They only laid down their weapons because of loss of muscle control. They only saw the kings dethroned because of synapse misfires in their dying brain.
Lather.
I dug a deep enough hole to throw his shitty body in. The winter breeze blew the cold onto his body and carried the smell of a woman. A stupid woman I listened to Yossarian pine over time and time again. A stupid woman who fucked up my plan. A light burst from his chest, healed his scars and forced a gasping breath into his lungs. I knew that mother fucker didn't have a brain in his head and now it is proven.
Rinse.
He brought me back here and asked me to leave. His name is Yossarian. He looks a little dehydrated. I still say he is a pansy. I don't think he wants to hang out with me any longer. He lives in a world where all good men die. Why he came back is beyond me. Maybe he isn't that nice of a guy.
Repeat.