My name is Lt. Cyclopskiller, Pooch an I are putting together a special team, and I need me 12 soldiers.12 Zoner soldiers. Now, y'all might've heard rumors about the armada happening soon. Well, we'll be leaving a little earlier. We're gonna be dropped into The Endzone, dressed as EPC members. And once we're in enemy territory, as a bushwhackin' guerrilla army, we're gonna be doin' one thing and one thing only... Britch slapn horseman. Now, I don't know about y'all, but I sure as hell didn't come down from the ******n Smoky Mountains, cross five thousand message boards of tarnation, fight my way through half of Knoxville and jump out of a fu*kin' air-o-plane to teach the horesman lessons in humanity. Horseman ain't got no humanity. They're the foot soldiers of a Homa-sexul', mass winder lickn' maniac cokk stobblen sOciety.. and they need to be dee-stroyed. That's why any and every every son of a bRitch we find wearin' a Horseman uniform, they're gonna die. Now, I'm the direct descendant of the mountain man Papa koochie. That means I got a little Injun in me. And our battle plan will be that of an Apache resistance. We will be cruel to the Horseman, and through our cruelty they will know who we are. And they will find the evidence of our cruelty in the disemboweled, dismembered, and disfigured bodies of their brothers we leave behind us. And the German won't not be able to help themselves but to imagine the cruelty their brothers endured at our hands, and our boot heels, and the edge of our knives. And the Horesman will be sickened by us, and the Horesman will talk about us, and the Horesman will fear us. And when the Horesman closes their eyes at night and they're tortured by their subconscious for the evil they have done, it will be with thoughts of us they are tortured with...
Sound good?