Marshall was never a popular boy, but he had enthusiasm and did an honest job, always giving his all. When he got his first gun at boot camp he was absolutely beside himself with giddy joy. He felt empowered, went out and kicked some ass, and the transformation from nervous boy to confident man was instantaneous. He fought bravely until a bullet completely penetrated his gluteus maximus and he was sent home in a wheelchair, lucky to be alive.
But Marshall also came home with an undiagnosed case of PTSD. His short fuse, intensely pungent body odor, and habit of yelling, “Git the hell off my property!” even when he was at the grocery store earned him few friends. Now he lives alone with his sore ass, fiercely defending himself against a world he's sure is out to get him.
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