Ah, suffering. Let me tell you a tale, nay, sing you a song, of metal and rubber and a heart as big as the world. Let me hearken to you...the Ballard of Forky.
Forky was a fine steed, but more, he was a fine friend. From the moment my MJOLNIR-clad buttocks pressed deeply into his supple leather seat, I knew ours was a bond that could never be shipped to the wrong depot. And as we lifted boxes and crates together, my hands slipping perfectly around his ergonomic controls, truly it was my heart that soared.
Together we were a force to be reckoned with. Even amidst the Covenant invasion, we refused to shirk our duty. We knew that each and every load could make all the difference. Undelivered, a Marine might go without his beans. A trooper, without her helmet. It was our duty...no, it was our passion.
But it would not last forever. It
could not last forever. I'll spare you the details, for to relay them now would be to tear my own soul asunder. To rend my heart into a million beating pieces.
Forky was brave. He was heroic.
But in the end, even together, we could not push the Covenant aside. Our two-pronged assault was not enough. The odds were stacked against us.
Rest in peace, dear Forky. I pray your soul will be lifted to some beautiful warehouse in the sky, where eagles soar defiantly above fields of pristine crates, each pining for safe transit and temperature controlled storage.
Godspeed, my hydraulically gifted friend. You will be missed.
Now, I know what you're thinking. Dear God, they cut the Forklift. I'm sorry, friends. Sometimes I want to have a little fun at your expense. The Forklift wasn't cut. It's alive and well along with a stable of other civilian vehicles, all idling warmly, waiting to go on an adventure with you.
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