"Growing up, there were six important things my ma and pa taught me to avoid."
Friday, November 19, 2027—In the middle of World War Three, a decently tall, scrawny, white man dressed in German service uniform—who has slicked-back hair and blue eyes—stands trial in a Minnesota courtroom.
"Those five things were: never get a hoe preggo, never meet your heroes, never download Twitter, never try Arby's, and never give a Nigerian prince money, but there is one thing that has been repeated to me even now, when I'm 27."
With chains around his wrists and ankles, the scrawny man sits at the defendant's table, positioned in front of the judge's podium.
The room is packed—people in suits fill the benches, and American soldiers clutching AKs stand around the perimeter. A heavyset, white, male judge approaches the podium.
"Okay, let's begin the trial for this current war crime against America," the judge states.
"Never piss off those dirty Americans!" the skinny man yells to himself, stressed.
"You are Leon Abelof of the German army, correct?" the judge asks, eyeing him.
"Umm… yes, that's me, sir," Leon replies.
"Okay, defendant. According to the reports, you have committed the heinous war crime of attacking noncombatants during wartime," the judge explains.
Wait—I have no idea how a trial works! Especially not with these crazy Americans! I still have the public defender, right? I already told him everything—he sh—
Leon turns to the chair beside him. It's empty.
He trembles. Then spots a sticky note on the table that reads:
"Sorry—you're on your own, dude."
Leon blinked twice.
"Verdmannt! Oh, I'm so fucked! I'm getting charged for a war crime, not petty theft! What type of service is this!" Leon cries out, tears forming.
Suddenly, the judge slams his gavel three times.
"Order! Order! Leon Abelof, you snuck into Minneapolis, Minnesota, on November 15th, 2027, with a unit of covert German soldiers and blew up an orphanage. Since you're standing alone, I assume you will be defending yourself."
Leon lets out a shaky breath.
"Oh well… guess there's no other way out. May I speak freely, Your Honor?" he asks, conflicted.
"Yes, you may," the judge replies sternly.
Leon stands and begins pacing, flailing slightly as he talks.
"Okay, so when this war started with Germany's declaration, I had a bad feeling. And surprise, I was right—because the next day, a soldier showed up at my door talking about 'time to fight for your country.' Like—what? Isn't that outdated? I have a baby girl and a growing boy. Why would I care about my country at that point?"
The courtroom shifts uncomfortably, visibly annoyed.
"But back to the story! They threw me on the front lines. I was so useless, they decided I was a burden—so they tossed me onto a covert ops mission instead. Which makes no sense, right? If I'm weak, why put me on something more important? Am I yapping? I'm yapping, aren't I? Please tell me if I'm—"
"Defendant, get to the point. We don't have all day!" the judge barks.
Leon flinches.
"Okay! Okay, you're totally right!"
"So on this covert mission, my only job was to carry the bombs. But I got startled by gunshots, and I accidentally tossed the whole pack of bombs into the air like a jump scare hit me. I'm still kind of… uh, not built for this war stuff. I don't even want to be here!"
"And from your story, I'm guessing you're saying you accidentally threw the bombs on top of the orphanage, blowing it up and killing not only everyone in the building but everyone in the surrounding areas," the judge asks flatly.
"Yes! Exactly! Thank you for understanding!" Leon says, relieved.
"Suuure," the judge replies, while rolling her eyes.
"Wait—you don't sound convinced! I just told you, dummkopf!" Leon shouts as his accent kicks in.
The gavel slams twice again.
"Order! Order! I have no idea what you just called me, but I will not have that in my court, you terrorist!"
"Apologies, American. I'll control myself," Leon mutters, trembling.
"Now that I heard your story, I have one question: Did you know the orphanage you blew up was a Jewish orphanage?"
Leon hesitates.
"Umm... no. Why would I?"
"Hmmm. Suure. And the earth is flat," the judge scoffs.
Did this bastard just assume I'm a second Hitler because I'm German? Typical American brain rot. Probably listens to Kanye and thinks he's misunderstood too!
He stares, mouth open, stunned at the absurdity.
"As I thought—left speechless. You're scum and will be treated as such!" the judge declares.
Gavel slams.
"Guilty! No further questioning."
"Noooo! Please don't put me in prison—I don't want to lose my anus to the Booty Warriors!" Leon screams, collapsing to his knees in tears.
"Wait! It could be worse! Are you going to send me to live in Florida with the Florida Man? Or make me listen to shitty podcasts and hear those brain-dead opinions?! Please spare me!"
The judge remains unfazed.
"I sentence you, Leon Abelof… to eternity on Squad Bastards!"
Leon pauses, lifting his head with a confused expression.
"Who?"