The history of Plastic Soldiers is long, but in the history, one figure stands out. His name was Sergeant Splutpatter, and is still considered to be one of the greatest and controversial leaders of the Plastic Soldiers. Later in his reign he led himself and twenty men on a doomed mission to find the human’s weaknesses and their home base. None of them ever returned. Later his journal was discovered and published into an international bestseller (considering there had never been any books written by Plastic Soldiers before). His story is historic and heart-moving, and is considered one of the greatest example of literature of this age.
Disaster! After half an hour scaling the bookshelf I have already lost five of my men! Descending to the carpet, we unwittingly fell into the lair of a deadly creature. The humans call it a ‘puppy’, but this does not do justice to it’s monstrosity. It is a creature from hell, a living, breathing personification of evil. Huge and terrifying, it moved on our group so fast poor Private Ramson never even saw the terrifying, serrated teeth lunge for him. I am sorry to say but the soldier is now in the creatures gullet. The rest of us drew our weapons but the beast was swift. It leapt at us and preceded to gnaw four more of my soldiers to death. The rest of us managed to dash to safety, although one lieutenant suffered a severed leg from the beast’s jaws. Luckily we are plastic so we have no fear of blood loss. Or even pain. Unlike those inferior humans. Tomorrow we will find their homebase and destroy them all.
One of my soldiers was crushed yesterday by a huge boulder with black and white squares. It came bouncing out of nowhere, faster then the wind. My soldier managed to utter, “Holy Fuuuuuuuck-“ before he was crushed by the monstrosity. But we made it through the wall without any other incident.
Disaster again. We were discovered by the humans. One of them crushed a soldier with their foot. Then yelled out in a surprisingly sophisticated language to another. There is much we must learn about these creatures, but civilised talk between these creatures if far from possible. We all know they unintelligent monsters. Still, we must destroy them all.
Now we are stuck. Fleeing from the human we were driven up the shelf to the top. Fredericks fell to his death during the climb, and now the remaining 13 of us are now stuck here.
Simpson Jnr took his own life yesterday. We have been stuck here for almost a week now and the private couldn’t take it. He threw himself off the top of the shelf, killing himself. The other soldiers are depressed and glum and haven’t eaten much. We have to get out of this hellhole!
We are saved! A paper plane happened to crash right next to us! We climbed aboard and pushed ourselves off the edge. Alas, we were just too heavy and the plane crashed into a table, killing two of my leautenants. At least they died instantly. But now, we may continue our mission! The pride of the plastic soldiers will never be destroyed! We will carry on!
Thompson was killed yesterday, falling into a huge whirlpool. He disappeared into the dark depths and never resurfaced. His brother James was also killed just hours, falling into a huge pot of boiling water and melting to his death. But we must continue!
Disaster! The humans have caught us! A smaller one came down onto us without warning and swept us up. I write this while being carried by the human, possibly to my doom.
I am the only one left. Everyone else is dead. The human carried us to a huge pit, surrounded by gigantic bars. He dropped us in, and we landed upon a soft surface. Suddenly, a beast appeared. It seemed as if it was a smaller human, except it’s bulbous head was devoid of hair and it’s fingers were stubby. It eyes were large and it’s teeth seemed like lopsided bricks, gnashing together like mincers. Whatever this thing was, mutated human or not, it was dangerous and grabbed three of my soldiers, stuffing them into it’s mouth, uttering a horrifying gurgle, as if in pleasure. It was a massacre. Soon I was the only one left, and the creature picked me up. I managed to poke my gun into it’s eye, and it let go of me with a cry of distress that seemed to originate in the depths of hell. I scrambled away from it’s grasp and clambered out of the cell like pit.
I’ve been wandering the base for days without hope of survival. With no food I’m growing thin and suffering from fatigue. I think I’m going to die. I still have one bullet in my gun, and I raise it to my head at this moment. Fucking Toy Story, Buzz never had to do this. Fuck, goodbye world.
This book is dedicated to Sergeant Splutpatter, and shall always be remembered a great leader of the plastic soldiers.