I lost your thread. No, I mean I lost your yarn trying to give the army another parachute while we fought. We fought out in the woods. Well, it's not lost. I know where it is. Up in the tree with the battalion of troops. But the Cat's Tail is swatting at them and the crows are planning an assault. Let's form a rescue mission and save them from freezing in the wilderness (assuming they didn't already starve to death). This is how you execute a rescue mission:
1) Determine if the scene is safe and call 911 if not in a wilderness setting. Well great this is war and we're in the woods.
2) Determine if the injured person is breathing and pinch their nose shut while giving two long slow breaths.
No, sorry. I'm wrong. This is CPR. We need a rescue mission. I guess there are no strategies. Look, if you go get your scissors, I'll get the ladder from the shed. We need to bring these boys home. We need to bring these boys home and we need to bring your yarn home.

After that, we'll celebrate with lunch. I asked around and these are the requests I could hear:
1) Peanut butter and honey with little banana slices on toast.
2) A hot dog with mustard only and some wavy potato chips.
3) No thanks
4) Ham and cheese please
5) A BLT, but with turkey bacon because it is better for you.

Be careful though, won't you? Don't go snooping around in the dirt. Ma says to look out for the--what does she call them? Radishes. Look out for the radishes planted when my grandpa was a boy. No, he didn't plant them. Ma says the people who marched through our fields, the bad ones, they planted them and that the seeds have not died yet, not even through all the winters and all the droughts. Ma says they are asleep deep down in the dirt and they can sprout explosive any minute.