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This was the scented rose in the bumgut of Satan, for here at 7.13 precisely, the fighting stopped. Soldiers, who moments earlier had been shooting each others' teeth out, put down their guns and joined in peaceful commune. Some played games, or like these men, planned a musical. The reason for this calm lay inside a shed, for here, the massed forces of two world powers were unified by nothing more than the distress of a cat stuck on a high shelf. No-one knows how it got there, but these brave fighting men, moved by the simplicity of the animal's plight, decided to forget their differences and try to get it down. But even as the men celebrated, their heads were blown clean off, for somebody, nobody knows who, had filled the cat with nitro-glycerine.

Mary Hinge wrote:

*gets moist*