[ WP ] One day , you find a mysterious box . The letters on it read 'Conquer-the-World Kit ' .

Joe and Dana Hillsborough stood in their doorway, watching their son playing in the driveway. Both stared with open mouths, each shooting the other worried glances from time to time. 
 
 Dana cleared her throat. `` Chris!'' She shouted to their seven-year old. `` Do you want to come in for a snack?'' 
 
 Chris turned to his mother with a gap-toothed grin. `` Not right now, Mom! Thanks!'' Wearing a silver plastic Pickelhelm, he looked like a little Otto von Bismark. He turned back to the troops assembled across their driveway, their front lawn, their neighbor's driveway, their neighbor's front lawn, in the street, the lawn across the -- well, pretty much the whole neighborhood. They were all dressed in grim grey uniforms, and here and there one held one of the flags that Chris had drawn that afternoon with his crayons: an astronaut with machine-guns for arms. 
 
 `` What was in that box?'' Joe asked. 
 
 His wife shook her head. `` I do n't know, he took it out there with him. I mean, it had that hat in it, I know that much.'' 
 
 `` Pickelhelm,'' Joe said. 
 
 `` Whatever! I -- I'm going to tell him to come inside. This has gone on long enough.'' 
 
 `` And what about them?'' Joe waved at the tight ranks of soldiers that stretched away down the block. 
 
 `` I do n't know, they can -- they can go home, or whatever.'' Dana screwed up her face, puzzled. `` Where did these guys even *come* from?'' 
 
 `` Not *all* guys, honey. That whole squad of grenadiers is women.'' 
 
 Outside, Chris was rooting around in the box. He came up with a slip of paper, stood up on the trunk of Dana's car, and began to shout at his troops. `` All through your army career you men have bitched about what you call'this chicken-shit drilling.' 
 
 `` That is all for a purpose—to ensure instant obedience to orders and to create constant alertness. This must be bred into every soldier. I do n't give a fuck for a man who is not always on his toes.'' 
 
 Dana's hand went to her mouth. `` *Christopher David Hillsborough! * Language!'' 
 
 Chris looked at her, abashed. `` Sorry, Mom.'' But his troops were all cheering, pumping fists and rifles into the air. 
 
 `` Look,'' Joe said, `` let me go out there and get him. You're right, fun's over.'' 
 
 But Chris was already trotting up to them, head down. `` Mom, I'm sorry that I cussed.'' He took his Pickelhelm off and held it in both hands. `` I do n't want to play anymore, anyways. This game is boring. Can we...'' He stuttered. `` Can we go out for pizza?'' 
 
 She looked down at her son and smiled. `` Aw, sure.'' 
 
 `` Go hop in the car,'' Joe said. `` We'll be there in a minute. But first, remember to get your armor corps out of the driveway.''
