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Afternoon Death Camp As the clock strikes 2:45 I drag my withered corpse of a body into the dank, foul-smelling locker room. The smell of sweat, urine, and blood permeates this prison. I change into my trusty red sweatpants that have the smell of comfort laced into its seams. Now I move into the hallways to begin the Gestapo-esque death march. Fifteen laps and several pounds of sweat later, I flounder into the training cage, which …

…doings, which falls upon deaf ears due to fact that they are bleeding from listening to the incessant propaganda. We retire back to the dank prison where we turn our gear into the storage facilities and proceed back to our humble abodes. We go to bed without food nor water to provide us sustenance throughout the night. We then repeat the same gruelingly insidious procedure the next day and everyday, for the next three months.