Disclaimer: I only own the unnamed greenshirt. I do not own GI Joe. If I did, I would not be writing this fanfic.

Please don't hate me for butchering GI Joe, but this is my first attempt at a legitimate fanfiction. I have plenty more excuses to follow should you flame me.

"Sergeant Major sir!"

Beach Head looked down the line of greenshirts at morning PT to see one of the men trying to get his attention. Ignoring the icy glare of the drill sergeant, the man proceeded to speak.

"We've been standing here like trees for fifteen minutes. I was wondering when we'd start to actually do something."

As Beach Head's face was flooded with an unhealthy-looking purple color, another man spoke.

"Sir, stress isn't healthy. You should just shrub off his rudeness."

As Beach Head turned, about to scream his lungs out at the second man for his horrible and inopportune pun, yet another greenshirt contributed to the drill sergeant's high blood pressure.

"Guys, we should shut up. He looks pretty aggrassive."

"Yeah, we should leaf him alone."

"We're kinda going out on a limb to annoy the drill sergeant; do you think this is a good idea?"

"DAMN POGUES 'R GONNA GET WEEDED OUT SOON!"

"But we've already planted our roots here!"

"Yeah, I've taken a lichen to this place!"

"I'll be pretty releaved. . ."

"EVERYBODY SHUT UP! It's my job to whip the rudeness outta ya! Either you SHAPE UP or SHIP OUT, ah don't care which. If this were a battlefield you wouldn't be alive!"

"Sergeant Major sir! How do you know we're alive?"

"WHAT KINDA STUPID QUESTION IS THIS?"

"Couldn't this all be a dream?"

"GET DOWN AND GIMME 50! After that, you can run the obstacle course 'till you DROP! Anyone else wanna ask stupid questions?"

"Yes sir!"

"DON'T call me sir!"

******3 hours later******

The greenshirts lay sprawled across the open expanse of the PT field, feeling like they'd never open their mouths again. One last man stumbled, covered in paint and flour, across the finish line of the obstacle course. Beach Head walked over and stared down at him.

"Well? Are you alive or not?"

"I feel pretty alive, thanks. . ."

"Great, get up and run 10 miles. And, damn you, be back in an hour!"

"Yes sir. . ."

"AND DON'T CALL ME SIR!"

Shipwreck, who had been watching the proceedings from his guard position, reminded himself yet again to tell Ace never to let the greenshirts in on a betting pool concerning Beach Head. They didn't know when to shut up.

End

Thanks for reading, I hope it wasn't too puny. Beach Head sure got some punishment! (Kidding, kidding. . .) All flames will be left to smolder, I'm a pyromaniac anyways. Please review and give me any suggestions. Thanks!

Note: Sorry about the first version, I don't think my computer likes me.