Army of Tims
Have you seen Tim #147 lately? He was in line with the rest of the Tims, but seems to have disappeared somewhere between Alberta and Saskatchewan. Naturally the Army of Tims isn’t going to be able to conquer very much without the invaluable support of good old number 147. They’d still be a force to be reckoned with, they just wouldn’t have the overwhelming military superiority of an intact group of Tims.
The rumor going around the troops is that Tim #147 went off to some cosplay convention, but that’s pretty unfounded. We haven’t turned up any of the usual signs of cosplay desertion.
Good old Timland. Nothing but Tims as far as the eye can see. Except for the occasional moose, but the locals have taken to naming all wildlife in the area “Tim” just to be consistent. Those moose Tims can’t join the army, though. Do they complain about moose discrimination? All the time, but the army declared martial law and there’s not much the moose can do about it.
The neighboring battallion of Georges called them up one day. I think it was a Saturday.
“Is this Tim #1?”
“Of course. I answered the phone, didn’t I?”
“Tim #1! What’s up! This is George #1!”
“Dude!”
“Dude… Say. We could use a few Tims to fill up our Army of Georges over here. Can you spare any? We have a big battle with the Army of Lucifers tomorrow, and I don’t think we’ll make it on our own.”
“You want to borrow some Tims?”
“Yeah, that would be super.”
“Well, no, we can’t really do that. I don’t think it works that way.”
“Are you sure? How about a half a Tim?”
“No, we tried that before, remember? Slicing them up just leads to screaming and bloodshed. It’s a lot quieter and neater to leave them intact.”
“Oh well. Thanks anyway.”
“No problem. Say hi to George for me.”
“Will do.”
The next day, as the sun rose on the Army of Tims, a rusty tin man walked up and tried to enlist. He was laughed out of camp amid shouts of “Typo! Typo!” Poor tin man. He had to wander off (crying, no doubt) to the Army of Arnolds, where he lived out his days running errands and brewing coffee in his tin head. The Arnolds loved him with all their Arnoldity, but was that enough for the tin man? Well, yeah, that was pretty good. That’s about as good as you can expect to get if you’re a tin man.