Klinger: I got this in mail call today, sir.
Henry: What is it?
Klinger: It's a letter from my mother. 'Dear son...'
Henry: You obviously haven't sent her a recent picture.
Klinger: 'I hate to bother you in the middle of a war, but I have some terrible news. Your father is very sick. (looks at Henry and sighs) If he knew I was writing to you, he'd be very angry. Fortunately for us, he's in a coma.'
Klinger: Sir, please. 'We know your colonel has a good heart, and surely he'll let you come home for your father's funeral, or his 65th birthday, whichever comes first. I will close this letter now, son of my heart, because my tears are making the paper soggy and hard to write on. Your loving, aggravated, broken-hearted mother.'
Henry: Uh huh. (reaching for a file behind him) Here we go. (pulls out other letters) The father dying, right?
Klinger: Yes, sir. (feigns sobbing)
Henry: (leafing through the other letters) Father dying last year. Mother dying last year. Mother and father dying. Mother, father, and older sister dying. Mother dying and older sister pregnant. Older sister dying and mother pregnant. Younger sister pregnant and older sister dying. Here's an oldie but goodie: half of the family dying, other half pregnant.(puts down the letters) Klinger, aren't you ashamed of yourself?
Klinger: Yes, sir. I don't deserve to be in the Army!
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