Stupidly, I volunteered for Team Spleen, fully knowing the hazards of large quantities of Vodka upon my liver, and I will always endeavor to uphold the drunkenness, idiocy, and poor tactical judgment of my Team.

Pitifully, as we are a more elite soldier who arrives at the cutting edge of battle via the nearest bar, I accept the fact that Team Spleen expects me to move farther, run faster and get killed more catastrophically and comically than any other soldier.

Leeroys do not fail their comrades. I will always keep myself running fast, screaming loudly and shooting wildly and I will forget the minutae of my share of the task, whatever it may be, within seconds of being told. One-hundred-ten-percent and then some, because we're too drunk to add up.

Everything I can strap onto the side of an AEG I will buy, for I am a specially selected and well-trained soldier and therefore need a silly gun. My courtesy to superior officers, neatness of dress and care of equipment shall be almost painfully absent at all times.

Energetically will I meet the enemies of my Team. I shall be rinsed on the field of battle for I am unfit and hung over and may possibly throw up if I run fast. Surrender is not a Spleen word. Unfortunately 'whitewashed' is. I will never leave a fallen comrade if he owes me money and/or drinks and under no circumstances will I ever let Grim mix me a 'special' cocktail.

Not only will I display the intestinal fortitude required to fight for the Spleen objective I will foolishly go on a suicide run with only a blowback Glock, though I be the lone survivor.

SPLEEEEEEEEN!!