Stuart should have drowned all those years ago in the river in Saigon, when we served together in 'Nam. I swear that little bstard is an illegitimate monster born from an unholy act of desecration.... It all started when he was assigned to my unit as my bunkmate. Each night, he would stay up all night thinking of horrifying ways to use Vietnamese Guerilla tactics against the Vietcong Soldiers. My unit already had a hard time sleeping due to all the child soldiers we had fought for weeks on end, and his insane mutterings only made things so much worse. Every day for the following week we would wake up to a fresh pile of 10 bodies and Private Stuart Little was always sitting on top, sharpening his bayonette on the bones of his latest victims. Men, Women, Children, you name it. As long as it was Vietnamese, Stuart killed it. Our unit had the highest survival rates of any in all of 'Nam, at the cost of our Sanity. We were the Special infiltration Squad, and he was our edge up on the Vietcong. We pushed our way from Laos into South Vietnam into Quong Lang. It was smooth, almost too smooth. Until the day Stuart Slaughtered all of the inhabitants of one of the towns right near Saigon without telling a soul. We had no idea, and recieved orders to invade Saigon. It was a covert assault, to make the offensive attacks in the coming weeks easier. We made it a third of the way into Saigon and had the target in our crosshairs, and were about to kill him. I took the shot, and Stuart sneezed and knocked my gun off-center and I missed the shot that would have won us 'Nam. All the Vietcong Soldiers started hosing the streets with their Machine Guns and Stuart and I ducked into a sewage canal. We heard the rest of our unit cry out their last breathes as they died, their blood staining the streets and filling the sewers. The enemy was ready, and knew we were hiding. Stuart gave away our position and yelled "haha scum I'm the one that killed everyone in Bai Lang." The Vietcong were so furious, they launched 2 grenade launchers into the sewer duct where we were hiding. My left leg was blown clean off, and my right lig and 3 ribs were all broken. I was also disfigured severely by the blast. The Vietcong dug through the rubble and found me. I played dead for 2 hours as they stabbed and maimed us to near death, before defacating on me and beating my swollen body to a pulp. And where was Stuart Little? Hiding in my Boots, conveniently where I had stored a radio to call for help. And what did Stuart do? He laughed. He *LAUGHED. I cried out silent cries of anguish to God, my mother and my drill sergeant, all while Stuart Little Relished my Agonizing screams and grunts. Until finally, the Vietcong threw me into the sewer aqueducts to die. I lied still, too weak to move my body, and began to hear the sound of running liquid, moving faster and faster towards me. By now, Stuart was standing on my bruised and beaten chest, cruelly laughing in my swollen beaten face. But I knew that rushing sound better than even Stuart. It was the sound of rain water flooding the sewers, heading our way. I cried in anguish as I watched him pull the radio from my boot and smash it with his bayonette. He laughed cruelly, approaching with his bayonette preparing to torture me, probably. But I heard the water closing in. I knew it. He made his first cut and I cried out in pain as he sliced halfway into my nose, leaving a deep gash across my swollen bloody face. But then the water came crashing in. It was a struggle for air, as Stuart stabbed his bayonette into my shoulder hanging on for dear life. I felt the current push so hard, I thought my lungs would pop from the pressure. But it yanked Stuart off me and broke his Bayonette handle. His blade left hanging in my right bicep, I struggled like a dying stag, breathing it's last breaths. And then I blacked out. I woke up in a USA medical tent, covered in bandages. They told me they found my body gnawed at, and attacked by what they thought could have been a Lion. But I knew. I knew. It was Stuart. The Seargant General himself visited my tent, and asked me where Stuart was. I told him the last time was in the sewers of Saigon, and he told me they had discovered Stuart's misconduct too late. He was a wanted man; a war criminal even. He had slain several towns worth of people. The last they had seen of him was right as they had launched the Invasion of Saigon. Apparently Stuart had snuck off into the Jungles of Vietnam. Some say he even still lurks there, hunting the Vietcong. Personally, it cost me my legs. I was discharged, sent home as a broken man, unable to please my wife thanks to the ministrations of Stuart Little and the Vietcong. She got a divorce, and left me all alone. Good old Uncle Sam gave me the highest award in the land, a purple heart, for the trials i underwent and the bravery i showed. But I know one thing. It's all your fault, Stuart Little. F*** You.