Red vs blue and purple

Red gets a delivery

Pan out on Grif, Sabine and Simmons, who are approaching another Red soldier (Sarge) clad in red armor.

Sarge: Hurry up, ladies. This ain't no ice cream social.

Simmons: Ice cream social?

Sabine: What does that mean?

Simmons, Sabine and Grif exchange looks.

Cut to Sarge.

Sarge: Stop the pillow talk, you three. Anyone want to guess why I gathered you here today?

Grif: Uh, is it because the war's over and you're sending us home?

Sabine: Um, what?

Sarge: (Sarcastically) That's exactly it, Private. War's over. We won. Turns out you're the big hero and we're gonna hold a parade in your honor. I get to drive the float, Sabine is charge of the art and Simmons here IS IN CHARGE OF CONFETTI!

Grif: I'm no stranger to sarcasm, sir.

Sabine: Don't make fun of art.

Sarge: Goddamn it, Private! Shut your mouth or else I'll have Simmons slit your throat while you're asleep!

Simmons: Oh I'd do it, too.

Simmons pulls out a knife from his pocket.

Sabine: Isn't that my knife?

Simmons: (puts it away) No.

Sarge: I know you would, Simmons. Good man. (brief pause) Couple of things today, ladies. Command has seen fit to increase our ranks here at Blood Gulch Outpost Number One.

Grif: Crap. We're getting a rookie.

Sabine: At least we'll get someone new to talk to.

Sarge: That's right, dead man. Our new recruit will be here within the week, but today we received the first part of our shipment from Command.

Grif, Sabine and Simmons exchange looks again.

Sarge turns towards a hill behind them.

Sarge: Lopez, bring up the vehicle.

A large, armor-plated, jeep-like vehicle comes over the rise with Lopez in the driver seat, who pulls up along side the Reds.

Simmons: Shotgun!

Grif: Shotgun! (realizes he is too late) Shit.

Sabine: Shotgun! (Realizes she is too late) Crap.

Sarge: May I introduce our new, light reconnaissance vehicle.

Camera closes in on the front of the vehicle and starts to move left, circling it.

Sarge: It has four inch armor plating, mag bumper suspension, a mounted machine gunner position, and total seating for three. Gentlemen, this is the M12 LRV! I like to call it the Warthog.

Cut to Grif and Simmons.

Simmons: Why Warthog, sir?

Cut to Sarge.

Sarge: Because M12 LRV is too hard to say in conversation, son.

Cut to Grif.

Grif: I know, but why Warthog? I mean, it doesn't really look like a pig.

Sabine: Gotta agree with him there sir.

Sarge: (after a brief pause) Say that again.

Grif: I think it looks more like a puma.

Sarge: What in Sam Hell is a puma?

Simmons: Uh, you mean like the shoe company?

Grif: No, like a puma. It's a big cat, like a lion.

Sabine: I was thinking in the tiger family.

Sarge: You're making that up.

Grif: I'm telling you, it's a real animal!

Sarge: Simmons, I want you to poison Grif's next meal.

Simmons: Yes, sir!

Sabine: Sarge.

Sarge: (pointing at the front of the Warthog) Look, see these two tow hooks? They look like tusks, and what kind of animal has tusks?

Cut to Grif.

Grif: A walrus.

Sarge: Didn't I just tell you to stop making up animals?!

Sabine: It's a real animal!

Cut to a view of the Reds through the sniper rifle scope.

Cut to Church, wielding the rifle, and Tucker, wielding a M6D pistol.

Tucker: What is that thing?

Church lowers the rifle.

Church: I don't know, man. Looks like uh.. looks like they've got some sorta car down there. We'd better get back to base and report it.

Tucker: (taken aback) A car? How come they get a car?!

Church: What are you complaining about, man? We're about to get a tank in the very next drop.

Tucker: (disappointed) You can't pick up chicks in a tank. Especially that hot one they have.

Church: Oh, you know what? You could bitch about anything couldn't you? We're going to get a tank, and you're worried about chicks. What chicks are we gonna pick up, man? And secondly, how are you gonna pick up chicks in a car that looks like that? And thirdly I have told many of times, she's the enemy.

Tucker: I don't care, she's hot and that's what counts. (sighs) What kind of car is it?

Church: (looking through the scope of the sniper rifle) I dunno, I've never seen a car like that before. It looks like a... uh... like a big cat of some kind.

Tucker: ...What, like a puma?

Church: Yeah, man, there you go.

Cut to Red Team.

Sarge: So unless anybody has anymore mythical creatures to suggest as a name for the new vehicle, we're going to stick with the Warthog. How about it, Grif?

Grif: No, sir. No more suggestions.

Sarge: Are you sure? How 'bout Bigfoot?

Grif: It's okay.

Sarge: Unicorn?

Grif: No really. Uh, I'm cool.

Sarge: Sasquatch?

Simmons: Leprechaun?

Sabine: Mermaid?

Grif: Hey, he doesn't need any help, guys.

Sarge: Phoenix?

Grif: (sighs) Christ.

Grif walks away annoyed as Sarge looks at Simmons.

Fade to black.

Sarge: Hey Simmons, what's the name of that Mexican lizard? Eats all the goats.

Simmons: Uh, that would be the Chupacabra, sir.

Sarge: Hey Grif, Chupathingy! How about that? I like it. Gotta ring to it.

Sabine: Me too, good one Sarge.

Sarge: Heh heh.