Drill Sgt. Apocalypse (to Private Bob):
"PRIVATE BOB! I’ve seen mold grow with more charisma than you! You’re so damn pathetic, even your reflection is embarrassed to show up for work. You are the human equivalent of dial-up internet — slow, loud, and no one wants to deal with you. And let’s not sugarcoat this: YOU. DON’T. GET. BITCHES. Not a single one. If women were oxygen, you’d have suffocated in the womb. The only thing attracted to you are flies — and that’s because you smell like wasted potential. PRIVATE, your bloodline should’ve been discontinued like a bad product recall!"

Private Bob:
"Sir, I can change, Sir!"

Drill Sgt. Apocalypse:
"CHANGE? The only thing changing is the level of disappointment every time you open your mouth. You’re not a soldier, you’re a warning label for birth control!"

---

Drill Sgt. Apocalypse (to Private Tailor):
"PRIVATE TAILOR! Stand up straight — oh wait, that’s impossible because your spine folded from carrying the weight of your uselessness. You’ve got the presence of a fart in the wind — weak, forgettable, and leaving everyone around you disgusted. You are so insignificant, Google wouldn’t bother auto-correcting your name if someone misspelled it. You’re not just a waste of space, you’re a waste of oxygen — and frankly, Earth is sending me complaints about your occupancy!"

Private Tailor:
"Sir, I’ll improve, Sir!"

Drill Sgt. Apocalypse:
"IMPROVE? You could train for 100 years and still not be good enough to carry Bob’s failure. You are worse than Bob, and Bob doesn’t even get bitches. You’re the sequel nobody asked for, the spin-off nobody watches, the prequel that ruins the franchise. Hell, Private, if disappointment was a competition, you’d take first and last place at the same time!"

---

Drill Sgt. Apocalypse (finishing both):
"PRIVATE BOB! PRIVATE TAILOR! Together you are the human version of expired milk — sour, unwanted, and guaranteed to ruin anyone’s day. If the enemy captured you, they wouldn’t torture you — they’d just release you, because keeping you around would violate the Geneva Conventions. You’re not warriors, you’re warnings. You’re not privates, you’re problems. The only thing you two will ever fight is the crushing reality that you were born mistakes. Now get out of my sight before I roast you so bad your DNA tries to escape your body!"