I come in last of all new recruits. I'm slow, clumsy and my stamina is a joke. As the commanding officer of the brigade, you do not tolerate a failure from your subordinates. So you decided to drill me personally. So you start by ordering me to make 25 pushups. To make it more challenging for me, you put one boot on my upper back with a firm pressure or even stand on my back. Whenever I fail with a pushup, you kick me or trample on me, while you tell me what a pathetic wimp I am and other verbal humiliation. When I'm doing more pushups, you continue to degrade me. You set the other boot beneath my face and demand kisses whenever I'm low with a pushup. When I'm finally breaking under this drill and cannot do more pushups, even after a lot of kicks and trampling, you make me lick the muddy soles of your boots to let me feel what a useless creature I'm. You tell me that I'll stay a bootlicker and mud eater unless I become a capable recruit. I had this idea with your red Ralph Lauren military coat in mind, which I bought you last November. At best to be worn with white pants and black or reddish classic boots (your Carvelas or similar).