Murse

Nervously stands up, takes microphone, and looks down at a sheet of paper: “-clears throat- Sure, I can help with that!..”

…I mean, we’re still stuck with a king, sooo…

Shouldn’t there be two guys behind Mitch’s corpse, too?

“…oh, the order was for morphine? I misread it as a 1L IV bolus of bleach. My bad, won’t happen again.”

An acceptable outcome nonetheless.

The cure is the same for that disease, too. Preserving one Nazi from fear of the next is not the approach we need. Kill enough of them and they’ll eventually get the message.