Blue Helmets With Red Spots

"Cheese and Bacon," said the Dodo.

"That's a poor defense." Replied the magistrate. He slapped the gavel against another walnut, and fired another round into the lifeless paratrooper carcass hanging from a tree branch.

NATO paratroopers had been dropping through the trees since dawn, and the tall, dark, and feathery Dodo bird had been hunting them with knives and aplomb since about five minutes after dawn.

The magistrate twirled his shotgun, and dropped it in the mud.

"Damn."

Another paratrooper crashed through the trees, only to be dispatched by a volley of incendiary rounds from the Dodo's GE minigun.

"Of course, Cheese and Bacon, as a defense, hasn't been used since 1823, in Jim's Big Boy vs Kramer, not with any success, anyway. My version is slightly more advanced."

"I hope so," the magistrate commented, wiping his shotgun clean with a lark and a frown. "By the way, I heard Kramer was sacked recently."

Sirens wailed, and sailors listened drunkenly, only to crash into the rocks. More paratroopers landed, their knees making grisly crunching noises as they snapped like kindergarten teachers at Red Bull and Firearms day at school.

The magistrate, recently dewigged, took a hit from a hipflask, and scrawled a memorandum on the importance of firearm cleanliness. The sound of a GE minigun exploded and echoed through his skull like a crappy Britney Spears tune.

Standard issue brain-gnomes clubbed the echoing sound with a spatula, and poured it out the magistrates ears with an inordinate amount of blood.

The Dodo released the trigger, and scratched his head.

"Is NATO good or bad?" He asked.

"What?" The magistrate was holding his bleeding ears and crying a little bit.

"Is NATO the good guy, or bad?"

"Oh, um... Bad?"

"Ok."