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Read My Short Story! I promise Hilarity!

Discussion in 'Off Topic [BG]' started by FireBug, Oct 5, 2005.

  1. FireBug


    Sep 18, 2005
    I wrote this sometime in May. I'd like to know what you guys think. All of the events are real except the ending (which I think is much better than the original event). I promise this to be thoroughly entertaining.

    Fear and Loathing on the Battlefield

    “Dude, can I have one of your grandpa’s beers?”
    “Nah, just wait and ask him. If you ask him he’ll probably say yes.”
    “I’ll just take one of these fruit punches then.”
    “Those things are loaded with sugar.”
    “You’re loaded with sugar.”
    “That seems about right. Come on dude. Down that drink and let’s get the stuff and load up. I’ll take the blue one and you take the black one.”
    I walked slowly across the field to the right side of a large, brown, multi-garage barn made of <a style='text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 3px double;' href="http://www.serverlogic3.com/lm/rtl3.asp?si=31&k=sheet%20metal" onmouseover="window.status='sheet metal'; return true;" onmouseout="window.status=''; return true;">sheet metal</a> and coated to prevent rusting. The barn was mostly used for storing hay and feed for the cattle and was often inhabited by wasps. These vile creatures were everywhere during the summer and it was considered a sport to launch objects at them, the nest being the main target. The root of my contempt for these strange bugs is caused by the great pain they inflict on the regular, adventurous, unsuspecting, and up-to-no-good child. They can easily ruin one’s day in a matter of seconds. As I spied and approached one of these nests, there was only one thought running through my mind: “Vengeance will be mine!”
    I approached it cautiously, so as not alert the guards. I crouched and took careful aim. For once I could actually see what life was about. I had a purpose. The feeling I had closely resembled that of when you are about to receive an exceptionally large piece of candy. It was all about to come together and it felt good. I made sure I was ready, for this was surely going to be an excellent moment. I made sure the CO2 was in place, the barrel on tight, and the bolt cocked back. I checked the side to make sure a ball was loaded in the chamber and then clicked off the safety. I aligned my barrel with the nest and, at long last, I pulled the trigger.
    I looked on in horror at the situation which was now upon me. The paintball had shattered in the barrel, showering the wasp nest with a thick, orange mist. The angry mob of wasps took to the air. Panic-stricken, I fled the area and the only thought going through my mind now was: “Run like a bastard!”
    “Blast this confounded gun! No good, worthless piece of crap!” I shouted as I made my way back around a pair of large, steel, empty, gasoline containers at top speed. I ducked behind a mound of dirt and just then heard three loud pops from across the field. The paintballs struck the top of the mound soon after, throwing dirt and paint into the front of my mask.
    I ran out from behind my mound and squeezed off a few as he retreated behind a large, red, fifty-five gallon drum marked “Coca Cola.” It was, of course, empty, though this barrel has often been the subject of many minutes of my thought. Did there really used to be fifty-five gallons of Coke in that barrel, and if so, who drank it all? Whatever the case, the world’s largest can of Coke was now splattered with pink and orange paint.
    I ducked under some <a style='text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 3px double;' href="http://www.serverlogic3.com/lm/rtl3.asp?si=31&k=grape%20vines" onmouseover="window.status='grape vines'; return true;" onmouseout="window.status=''; return true;">grape vines</a> and heard paintballs whizzing over my head and scattering leaves about the area. I returned fire and took cover in the ditch across the road. I had time now to formulate a plan. The plan was fairly simple: make my way to behind a tree, scare the enemy into a staggering retreat with wild and randomly fired shots, and make my way around his base (which also happened to be a large barn, though used for storing heavy machinery), and surprise him from behind with a barrage of paintballs flying through the air in excess of 300 feet per second. Yes, this was my plan. He would surrender to my torrent of multi-colored paintballs and a glorious day this would be.
    I sprang out of the ditch and ran toward a tree. Half-way there I heard pops from the side of the barn, the side barricaded by sheets of galvanized steel where the enemy had dug in. It happened as if in slow motion, and yet it took me by surprise. The enemy’s aim was true and a paintball had connected with my trigger finger. The paintball exploded, sending splinters of the shell into my skin. I looked down in astonishment to see the pink paint mixed with the metal-blue color of my gun. My finger throbbed and I ducked behind the tree. I heard the “splat” sound of the paintballs and they hit the bark of the tree. I shook my hopper and the sound told me I had only about twelve shots left. Would this be enough to take him? No, I thought. I need to reload. He was one up on me and I had to reload in order to win. I jumped out from behind the tree and ran toward him, unloading nearly all that was left.
    I could hear it from here. I had hit him square in the chest and the sound was music to my ears. It was good music, like that of Led Zeppelin or Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young. It was a loud, hollow thump, followed by a string of expletives which would have made even the toughest sailor proud.
    There was no time to celebrate, as I had some reloading to do. I ran to the <a style='text-decoration: none; border-bottom: 3px double;' href="http://www.serverlogic3.com/lm/rtl3.asp?si=31&k=four%20wheeler" onmouseover="window.status='four-wheeler'; return true;" onmouseout="window.status=''; return true;">four-wheeler</a> parked inside the barn where there was a bag of paintballs in the back. I spent a few seconds funneling handfuls of paintballs into my hopper. I was ready.
    Everything was silent. I couldn’t even hear the sound of footsteps, which struck fear in my heart. Was the enemy sneaking up on me? If so, then from which side? What if he was camping just outside, waiting to ambush me the very way I had planned to do him? I crept slowly, knees bent and head down, to the place where he was seen last. I peered around the corner and stepped forward. All was clear. I thought to myself, “At least if he is sneaking up on me he won’t find me standing around inside.” I laughed at the thought of him feeling as if he were being sneaked up on.
    Loud pops! Flying paintballs! The enemy was unloading on me from a small hole between two scraps of metal! I retreated then popped back out again to take aim. I let one fly and could see the terror in his eyes as the paintball came screaming toward him. Just then the ball became caught up in a gust of wind, which cause the ball to curve and sent it whistling upwards. Curses! The ball slammed into the side of the barn, creating a sound like thunder and taking out a caterpillar in a mix of pink and green (the green being the caterpillar).
    I sprang on him, leaping over heaps of scrap metal as I sent paintballs whooshing past him and splattering about. I was on his heels in an instant and a few steps further I heard him shouting his surrender. Surrender indeed. He was staring down the barrel of my gun and if you have ever stared down the barrel of a gun you will know that it is quite terrifying. Nothing like a real gun of course, which I assume to be a decent bit more terrifying, but nonetheless, this was a scary moment for him. Exceptionally scary, in fact, because we were not wearing proper paintball attire. T-shirts and jeans, when confronted with paintballs flying through the air at speeds in excess of 300 feet per second and at a distance of no more than 5 feet, will provide absolutely no protection. Such a confrontation could cause great bodily harm.
    It was a reasonable surrender.
    “Hey, I’m thirsty,” he said.
    “Same here.”
    I thought for a second.
    “All those paintballs and only two hits,” I chuckled. “Do it again tomorrow?”
    We walked back inside the barn and I unscrewed my barrel to clean it, only when I laid the gun down, I noticed that there were no balls in the hopper. I looked inside the gun and smiled when I saw that the chamber was empty.

    Well, that's it. I hope you guys liked it. The only thing I think it needs is a bit more sense of direction. I ask that you please do not use it for anything other than your own enjoyment.
  2. ARRGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Wall of TEXT!!!!!!!!!!! (use paragraphs :D)